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ellemj · 5 months

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Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 10 (FINAL PART)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

*Read parts 1-9 first for the full effect!*

Summary: Everything is out in the open between you and Bucky now, but there are two rules for your new secret relationship.

Warnings: unprotected sex, teasing, possessive!Bucky (hehehe), maybe fluff (?), profanity, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: We've finally reached the end. I think I'll miss this version of Bucky and reader but I'm pretty excited about the work that I'm planning on putting out here next. Hopefully everyone's okay with the conclusion of this, I didn't want to have anyone riding off into the sunset or anything, but I also didn't want to have a horribly sad ending, so this felt right. You guys should totally let me know in the comments what kind of things you'd like to see from me soon! I don't know if I'll take specific requests anytime soon, but I'd love to at least find out what might get you all excited. Thanks for the umpteenth time to @littlemiss-yeehaw for being the best cheerleader and warnings-writer out there. She also draws some unbelievable shots of Bucky based on scenes in these fics.

In the shower, on the hotel bed, in the chair by the window, hell, even on the floor when the two of you rolled off of the bed in the heat of the moment. You’d successfully christened every surface of your hotel room before the clock ever struck midnight. You hadn’t meant to go at it like horny teenagers who found themselves home alone for the first time, but that’s what happened. It’s like you were both thinking about how this may not continue once you get back to the compound tomorrow morning, so you fit as much as you could all in one night.

Now, you’re laying side by side in bed. Your most recent tryst involved you on your hands and knees with Bucky doing all of the right things behind you, and it thoroughly winded you both. You listen as your collective breaths fill the air, the two of you each coming down from your post-orgasmic highs.

“Do you think Dr. Raynor will figure this out?” You ask softly, raising a hand and wiping a bit of sweat from your brow. Bucky laughs and turns his head to look at you. He still can’t get past how pretty you look after doing such dirty, animalistic things with him. Even without the super soldier serum decreasing his refractory period to mere minutes, he thinks he’d be recovered and ready for round five just from looking at you like this.

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“It’s on my mind, yeah.” You admit. You’re probably more worried about it than you should be, but deep down, Bucky’s worried too.

“So, how do you want to handle it?” Bucky asks, fully rolling onto his side to face you.

“Maybe we just wait and see what she has to say after observing tonight’s mission and then go from there. I don’t want to say anything first and give her anything to use against us.” He’s listening to your words, honestly, he is. He doesn’t think he could ever miss a word you say. But he can’t stop himself from reaching over and running his fingertips along your flushed cheek. You turn to look at him and he lets his fingers ghost over your lips and down the column of your throat until he reaches the notch between your collarbones. His eyes linger there for a moment. Something’s missing.

“You never gave me my dog tags back.” He whispers. You’re not wearing them, and neither is he. So, where are they?

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure when to give them back.”

“Bullshit, you wanted to keep them.” Bucky teases. You push his hand away from your neck at the accusation, but can’t stop the smile that’s creeping over your features. Fuck, he’s so into you. He closes the distance between the two of you and places his body carefully over yours under the covers, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Even just kissing you sets off fireworks inside of him.

“They’re sitting on my nightstand, back in the compound.” You tell him, hoping it doesn’t make you sound too obsessed. You had planned to give them back all week, but avoiding him made that a little difficult, so instead you left them sitting beside your bed. It was sort of comforting to see his name every night before you fell asleep, and every morning when you woke up.

“Keep them.” He insists, pressing another kiss to your soft, soft lips. You get lost in the moment, focusing on the feeling of his tongue working against yours, his scent enveloping you in the most consuming way, and his weight keeping you pinned to the mattress. You could stay like this forever.

This, of course, is when Bucky’s phone would ring. He groans in annoyance as he breaks the kiss and touches his forehead to yours, looking down into your eyes.

“Tell me not to answer it.” He pleads. You purse your lips, knowing it’s probably someone from the team calling with some kind of update or new order. Bucky groans again before rolling off of you and snatching his phone off of the bedside table. He answers it and puts it on speaker, confirming that it’s someone from the team.

“Hey, sorry to call so late. The threat has been neutralized so you guys can head back now and get some sleep, we’ll debrief in the morning.” Sam sounds tired but calm, so it must have been more of a nuisance situation than a major threat. Bucky closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his vibranium hand.

“Sounds good, we’ll be back soon.” He grumbles. You can tell he’s annoyed that you won’t be staying the night here. When he hangs up the call, he lets out a deep sigh before sitting up on the side of the bed, with the covers gathering around his waist. Without thinking, you crawl up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him from behind. He stiffens as if he didn’t expect your touch, but that just makes you lean into him more, resting your chin on his shoulder. You feel him slowly relax and having that effect on him warms you to the center of your being

“We’re going to go home, get some rest, and debrief in the morning like this was any other mission.” You say, attempting to be reassuring.

“That’s what you want? To pretend like this was any other mission?” He questions, running his hands over where your arms are wrapped around his abs.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant we don’t have to run in and tell everyone that something might be going on between us.”

“Might?” He chuckles. You feel his abs shake beneath your hands as the melodious sound leaves his lips. You never heard him laugh much before, and you didn’t expect to like it as much as you do.

“Hey, I told you that I fell for you, and you said fuck, I’m cumming. How am I supposed to know you feel the same way?” You tease, letting go of him and laying back on the bed, drawing the covers up over your naked body. He turns a bit to face you and starts pulling the covers away from you slowly.

“Y/n…” He says your name with so much genuine feeling that it sends tingles throughout your body. Has he always said your name like that and you just never noticed before? Yes. “I made you wear my dog tags while I fucked you.” What the hell does that have to do with what you just said? He can see the confusion on your face and it brings a smile to his. He slides back under the covers next to you and begins peppering kisses across your shoulder and collarbone.

“Bucky…” Fuck, if you start saying his name again there’s no way either of you will make it back to the compound tonight. He quickly makes his way up to your face, attaching his lips to yours for a moment and then tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. It’s the nicest way anyone has ever shut you up.

“I wanted to be able to pretend like you were mine. I fell way before you did.” He whispers against your lips. Holy shit. He feels the same way. Bucky Barnes feels the same way about you as you feel about him.

You know that you have orders to head back to the compound, and neither of you are the type to disobey orders from above, but how are you supposed to pack up and head out after finding out that you have feelings for each other? You can’t stand the thought of traveling back to the compound tonight knowing that you’ll have to put on a show and pretend like nothing happened here. So, why not delay a bit and take what you want one more time?

That very rational thinking is what inspires you to slide your hand between the two of you and wrap your fist around Bucky’s already-hardening cock. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your small, soft hand wrapping tightly around him, and he wonders how he went so long without having you this way. You’ve been right across the hall from him all of this time. You’ve been going on missions with him for the last two months, giving each other shit nearly every waking moment, and completely missing what had been there the whole time. Love. He won’t say it out loud yet, he doesn’t want to scare you off, but that’s what it is. He’s sure of it. He loves you. He may not say it but he can damn well express it.

That’s how Bucky finds himself, for the fifth time tonight, guiding the tip of his cock inside of your perfect cunt. He’s done this enough times now that he knows as soon as he bottoms out inside of you, you’ll tense up and scrunch your eyes closed, trying your hardest to adjust to his size. He watches as you do just that, and then he feels your entire body relax beneath him and he knows you’re ready. He pulls one of your legs up and over his hip as he begins fucking you into the mattress. When your eyes flutter open to meet his, he has to go completely still inside you so he won’t cum right then and there. You laugh to yourself. You know what eye contact does to him and you love it.

“What’s the matter, James? Keep going.” You taunt, wiggling your hips and forcing his cock to slide into you another inch. He’s only halfway inside of you. He breathes out a slow, calming breath before leaning down and nuzzling his face into your neck, letting his cock sink into you slower than it ever has before.

“You like rushing me, don’t you?” He asks, giving your cunt gentle thrusts. A soft hum leaves your lips at the pleasure that’s beginning to build in your lower stomach. You’re so focused on the feeling that you don’t even acknowledge his question. “Don’t rush me tonight.” He buries himself to the hilt before stilling once more, drawing a whine from your lips. “We’re making love, not fucking, sweetheart.”

---

A few hours later that same morning, a very uneventful debrief took place in the conference room at the compound. You and Bucky turned in your mission reports, leaving out the details of what happened in the hotel room, and then you were dismissed to have a few hours of freedom before having to meet with Dr. Raynor.

Everyone probably assumed that the two of you went off to your respective rooms upstairs, but it took little convincing to get Bucky to sneak over into yours. When he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the first thing he noticed was his dog tags, right where you said they were.

You kick your shoes off by the door and walk over to sit on one of the small gray chairs that you have off to the side of the room, feeling surprisingly nervous that Bucky Barnes is seeing your room for the first time. Nervous. After everything the two of you have done this week? You’re ridiculous. You watch him as he crosses the room and scoops the dog tags off of your nightstand. He stares at them in his palm for a moment, and for a second you worry that he might pocket them. However, when he turns to you with a soft smile and a mischievous glint in his eye, your fears are assuaged.

“Do you have any rules? For this thing that we’ve got going on?” Bucky asks, taking the free chair across from you and setting the dog tags flat on the coffee table that separates the two of you. You tilt your head to the side, studying him closely. You see what he’s doing. The first night, while under the influence of that chemical, you gave him one rule: no kissing. He returned with his own rule: wear his dog tags while he fucks you.

“I have one. We keep this a secret, just between us, for as long as we can.” You respond, letting your eyes trail over his physique. He’s sitting in your chair the same way he sat in the chair in the hotel room last night. The man knows how to demand attention without saying a damn word. You watch as his licks his bottom lip and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Fine. It’s a secret.” He agrees, his gaze briefly lingering on your neck. “But I have one rule too.” He reaches out with his flesh hand and begins sliding the dog tags across the table toward you. “You’ll never take these off again.”

BONUS CHAPTER

TAG LIST:

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut

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sassydefendorflower · 5 months

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I want to talk about something. I want to talk about ableism in fandom. And sexism in fandom. Oh, and racism in fandom.

Mostly though, I wanna talk about how the discussion about these things often gets derailed because people don't understand what trends and typical behaviors actually are.

Whenever a Person of Color, a woman, someone disabled, someone queer (or an intersection of any of these groups) points out that certain fandom trends are bigoted in some shape or form, half the replies seem to be "but they are my comfort character! Maybe people just like them better because they are more interesting!" or even "people are allowed to have headcanons!" - the very daft even go for a "don't bring politics into fandom" which is a personal favorite because nothing exists in a vacuum and nothing is truly apolitical. But alas~

What most of these replies seemingly fail to understand is something very, very simple: it's not about you.

You, as an individual, are just one datapoint in a fandom. You are not the trend. You do not necessarily depict the typical behavior.

When someone points out that there is racism in fandom, that doesn't mean every fan is racist or perpetuating racist ideas*. By constantly mentioning your own lack of racism, quite often, you are actively derailing the conversation away from the problems at hand.

When someone names and describes a trend, they don't mean your headcanon specifically - they mean the accumulated number of headcanons perpetuating a harmful or outdated idea.

I am not saying this to forbid anyone from writing fics about their favorite characters or to keep anyone from having fun headcanons and sharing their theories and thoughts - quite the opposite actually. A critique of a general trend is not a critique of you as an individual - and you're going to have a much better, and more productive, time online if you can internalize that. If you stop growing defensive and instead allow yourself to actually digest the message of what was pointed out.

I am saying this to encourage some critical thinking.

Allow me to offer up some examples:

Case 1: A DC blogger made the daring statement that maybe Tim and Jason were such a popular fanfic focus because they are the only two undeniably white batboys. Immediately someone replied saying "no, it's all the fun traumatic situations we can put them in!". Which is an insane statement to make, considering the same can be said for literally ANY OTHER DC Batman and Batfam character.

The original post wasn't anything groundbreaking, they didn't accuse anyone, didn't name any names... but immediately there was a justification, immediately there was a reason why people might like these characters more. No one stopped to take a second and reflect on the current trends in fanfiction, no one considered that maybe this wasn't a declaration against people who like these characters but a thesis depicting the OVERALL trend of fandom once again focusing on undeniably white (and male) characters.

(don't get me started on the racebending of white characters in media that has a big Cast of Color and the implications of that)

Case 2: A meta posted on Ao3 about ableism in the Criminal Minds fandom caught my attention. A wonderful piece, very thoughtful, analyzing certain characterization choices within the fandom through the lens of an actually autistic person. The conclusion they reached: the writing of Spencer Reid as an autistic character, while often charming and comforting, tended to be incredibly infantilizing and at worst downright ableist. They came to that conclusion while CLEARLY stating that the individual fanfic wasn't the problem, but the general fandom trend in depicting this character.

Once again, looking at the replies seemed to be a mistake: while many comments furthered the discussion, there were quite a few which completely missed the point. Some were downright hostile. Because how dare this author imply that THEY are ableist when they write their favorite character using that specific characterization.

It didn't matter that the author allowed room for personal interpretation. It didn't matter that they noted something concerning about the entire fandom - people still thought they were attacking singular people.

Case 3: I wrote a fic about abortion in the FMA(b) fandom (actually I've written a weird amount of fics about abortion in a lot of fandoms, but alas) and I got hate comments for it. Because of that I addressed the bias in fandom against pro-choice depictions of pregnancies. I pointed out that the utter lack of abortion in many omegaverse stories or even mpreg or het romances, painted the picture of an unconscious bias that hurt people for whom abortion was the only option, the best possible ending. The response on the post itself was mostly positive, but I got anon hate.

(which I can unfortunately not show you since I deleted it in the months since)

And I'm not overly broken up about it, but it also underlines my point: by pointing at a general problem, a typical behavior, a larger trend... people feel personally attacked.

This inability to discuss sexism, ableism, racism, transphobia, etc in fandom without people turning defensive and hurt... well, it damages our ability to have these conversations at all.

Earlier I said YOU are not the problem - well, i think part of this discussion is acknowledging that: sometimes YOU are in fact part of the problem. And that's not the end of the world. But you can only recognize yourself as a cog in the machine, if you can examine your own actions, your own biases, your own preferences critically and without becoming defensive.

And, again, this is not to keep you from finding comfort in your favorite characters and headcanons. This is also not to say that I am free of biases and internalized bigotries - I am also very much a part of the system. A part of the problem.

This is so you can comfortably ask yourself "but why is there no abortion in this universe?" or "why are my favorite black characters always the top in my slash ships?" or "why do I write this disabled character as childish and in need of help?" - and sometimes the answer is "because I am disabled and I want comfort", and that's fine too.

There is no one shoe fits all in fiction. There is not a single trope that captures all members of a group. There is no single stereotype that isn't also someone's comfort. No group is a monolith, no experienced all-encompasing (or entirely unique).

There is never a simple answer.

But that doesn't mean you should stop questioning your own biases, your own ideals.

Especially, if you grow defensive if someone points out that a certain trend you engage in might be racist. Or sexist. Or queerphobic. Or fucking ableist.

*this does not mean negate the general anti-blackness perpetuated by most cultures as a result of colonialism and slavery

#criminal minds #dc #batman #racism #fandom racism #fandom #fandom discourse #sexism #fandom sexism #ableism #fandom ableism #discourse #fma #fmab #abortion #abortion rights #pro choice #opening up a discussion about having discussions

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kana-de · 10 days

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hollow.

⭒ summary: arlecchino comes to your lands in hope of getting your gnosis non-violently. having hidden feelings for the harbinger, you offer a bargain, which she ends up accepting. it hurts both of you in the end.

⭑ cw: suggestive (no nsfw). angst. a lot of angst. angst no comfort (i warned you). hidden feelings. archon!reader. reader and arle both feel, and i mean feel.

⭒ wc: 3.4k.

⭑ a/n: oh wow. hi. this is like, the first fic i've written that was so long. ended up beta reading it with grammarly for two straight days. also tried improving my writing style, hope it looks like it lol. please like and reblog !!

"so, lady arlecchino," you started. your gaze remained cold but calm despite the inner hesitation you were feeling while facing the harbinger. "what business do you have in my lands?"

an unexpexted visit of the fatui delegation along with the fourth harbinger visiting her homeland was quite the news to you this morning. having no other choice than to face them, and you knew precisely why she would visit, hearing the news from the archons of other regions from last months.

it scared you, in some way. but you were expecting they would eventually reach you.

arlecchino slowly lowered herself into her own comfortable chair opposite of you before looking at you again. her face became expressionless again.

"It's a pleasure to see you too, miss [name]," she retorted in the same calm manner, despite her words clearly having a mocking undertone somewhere deep down. her eyes studied you as she continued, hearing you not reacting to her words.

you didn't change much from the last time she saw you. she didn't want you to, anyway. the same eyes, hair, accessories, manners... so on. she remembered every little detail.

"miss [name], do you really think you can rule this region on your own for the rest of eternity?" arlecchino suddenly asked, crossing her legs and arms simultaneously as she leaned back in her seat, seemingly making herself very much comfortable.

you blinked in confusion, head tilting the slightest bit. the woman had the dignity to let a corner of her lips raise upward at your reaction. she knew this "start" of the conversation wasn't what you expected.

"...i'm sorry?" you asked, not quite getting the meaning of the question.

"i'm sure you've already guessed what i'm here for. what i'm getting at is..."

arlecchino leaned forward in her chair, her eyes studying you. her face became expressionless once again, but a dark half-smile was painted on it. her voice became slightly threatening, nearly causing goosebumps to run across your skin. she knew your exterior wouldn't be cracked so easily - you're tough; much tougher than many people she's met in her life. but this was a start.

"...what do you want in exchange for your gnosis?" the question was almost a demand. she simply voiced her intentions - get your gnosis, and it wasn't an invitation of any sort.

your eyes narrowed, eyeing arlecchino. what is this? a negotiation? it does sound like one. but is that really it?

"and when did i mention something about giving up my gnosis, lady arlecchino?" you asked calmly.

"don't pretend you don't understand."

arlecchino's voice now held the slightest hint of threat to it, but her face became a little kinder and she continued in a more calm and friendly tone. or she only intended for it to sound friendly. uh, these diplomat things.

"i think we both know perfectly well what I want to hear from you; a clear answer. why don't we come to an agreeable conclusion and you'll give up your gnosis to me? certainly with no harm, you have my promise," she said, her voice getting a more expectant undertone as she spoke the last words, then looked at you in anticipation of the answer.

you leaned back in your seat, unsure of what to make of this whole 'visit'. it was suspicious, you couldn't deny it, but the pull towards the forbidden was finally getting to you, and your bottled-up for centuries-on-end feeling might be getting outside right at this moment.

this is an opportunity you have once in a life, your heart screamed at you. use it.

despite floating somewhere deep in your thoughts, you could easily feel as if arlecchino kept trying to burn a hole in you. and her eyes - especially the shape and color of her pupils - weren't helping either. she did look intimidating like this, but nonetheless, she was willing to wait. at least for now.

you weren't the type to risk, but...

so, an opportunity.

"now, what was that you said about getting something in exchange?" you inquired, exhaling a soft, quiet breath as you got out of your mind. shouldn't have entered it in the first place, you thought. too much of everything.

arlecchino smiled and her eyes gleamed a strange glint you couldn't quite decipher what meant.

"oh, it's good that you're interested," her voice became inviting again, almost soothing, but behind the façade was clearly a not-so-hidden intention. "i wouldn't want to use force against you if this escalated any more."

"of course i wouldn't just take your gnosis from you. i am a woman of honor and deal, miss [name]. if you'll give your gnosis to me i will, of course, give you something in return," she leaned back in her chair and stared straight into your eyes.

"would you like to hear what i would offer you?"

"no," you instantly replied, dismissing the woman. "i already have something i want to ask of you. but first..." you looked around the room, noticing a few fatui soldiers standing here and there. you didn't need extra ears from here anymore. "i need them to leave us alone."

arlecchino's lips curled slightly upward, resembling a smile.

"i see no problem in that. if you're planning on saying something personal, they don't need to witness this conversation."

she glanced at her soldiers and then turned her gaze back to you. the fatui left the room instantly, with no further words said.

"and now to the important part: what can i offer you in exchange for the gnosis, miss [name]?"

you kept silent for at least a minute. you licked your lips, then let your teeth bite down into her lower lip as you thought. arlecchino already seemed to notice one thing that stood out the most - you hesitated.

a deep inhale and the same deep exhale.

"my offer is..." you started slowly, eyes drawn to the table. you simply just couldn't bring yourself to look the woman in the eyes when saying what you were going to say. "we spend the night. together," you said, knowing that she clearly understands what you're talking about.

"and in the morning, i will grant you my gnosis, and we won't have any more business together after that."

silence.

this was precisely what arlecchino was hoping to hear from you.

she raised an eyebrow after a few moments of processing your words, expecting something like this, but still surprised by such a straightforward proposition. however, she quickly regained her composure, leaning back in her seat.

she knew where you were getting with this. she knew you craved this since you both ever saw each other. this was seemingly what you and her needed, but it was so much more complicated than just that.

she also knew that you would hurt so much the next morning, after giving up that gnosis, if she accepted this deal.

for the first time in a while, arlecchino felt torn by the thought of someone being hurt. surprisingly, it's you she was thinking about at that moment.

"my, my... i must admit such a proposal from you is a shock to me. so bold of you to assume that i would accept your deal so easily," she gave you a look, which held the tiniest bit of sympathy and compassion. she had mixed feelings about this.

"however, i'm indeed sure that you mean no harm, especially to me. so, i'll accept your offer on one condition."

she accepted it, immediately flashed in your mind. she accepted it almost instantly. your heart seemed to take a leap, no, a thousand of those as your eyes widened at the realization.

what was going on between the two of you?

you finally found the courage to look up at the woman. hearing no further elaboration, but wanting to hear it right now, you pried further, "that condition being..?"

arlecchino's eyes found yours, as if trying to read you from the outside, and she leaned in closer to the table separating the two of you.

"we keep this a secret," she said, eyes narrowing slightly and voice becoming nearly a whisper. "from the fatui and from everyone else."

"do we have a deal?"

you nodded. "i thought it's only logical that we keep it a secret. so, of course," you continued, eyes focusing on the woman. you didn't want to look away from her for a second, afraid she might disappear. "we have a deal."

a small smile played on arlecchino's lips as she gave a slight nod of satisfaction in response to the fact that you agreed so eagerly. her voice became slightly louder now, as if to not cause any suspicion if someone were to listen from the outside.

"very well. i accept your terms. and i give you my word to keep this... arrangement, a secret from everyone else," she said. her piercing gaze met yours, but the smile on her lips did not disappear.

"where would you like to meet, miss [name]?"

—

you didn't know how you both made it to your room, but the second the front door was closed and secured with a 'click' of the lock, arlecchino's lips crashed onto yours, as well as you found your back to quickly meet the wall.

there were lips biting one another, hands everywhere, tongues intertwining, your own heartbeat loud in your ears as you kissed, your hand shooting up to grab the back of arlecchino's neck... and you were hoping to forget about the gnosis just for this night. just for the duration of these hours.

just for one night. and then it'll all be over in her morning.

arlecchino's lips felt soft and warm as they pressed against your own. her tongue gently licked your lower lip, teeth tugging at it slightly as her hands roamed all over you. she didn't seem to want to pressure you into something, but she wanted to show you how much she wanted this, too. she then broke the kiss to catch her breath, eyes gleaming with hunger for more, despite the softness in them.

her fingers tangled in your hair as she looked deep into your eyes, "you're even more beautiful than i imagined."

with those words arlecchino pulled you closer, pressing herself against you, as her lips found their way to your neck, kissing her way down to your cleavage, before finding her way back onto your lips.

you felt like you were suffocating; suffocating in arlecchino. in her touch, lips, breath, and in your own sensations of all of the above.

"not here," you managed to whisper out breathily, already panting. you were sure your lips were already red and swollen from all of this. "left door."

arlecchino's lips came back to trailing kisses down your neck, biting softly in some places, but she seemed to obey you. her hands seemed to settle on your waist as she led you to the said left door.

"are you sure?" she whispered in your ear, her lips brushing against the skin there, and you immediately felt shivers crawling down your spine.

"are you sure you want this?"

"are you?" you asked in return, words barely a whisper, brows furrowed a small bit as if you yourself contemplated your choice.

you didn't. not for a single second.

"i am."

with that, arlecchino pulled you closer to herself again and claimed your lips once again. it was a hungry kiss, filled with passion and desire and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of longing.

"i want you," she whispered against your lips before kissing them again. the sound of your heartbeat was so loud that you were sure the woman could almost hear it in her own ears. her hands wandered over to your shoulders, pushing you through the door and into your bedroom, and she pushed the door with her leg to close it.

"all of you... i want all of you," arlecchino murmured, letting her lips detach from yours for a split second, eyes finally meeting yours, seeing all the need and yearning in yours.

she craved this a lot, but she knew you craved it more.

"then have all of me," you whispered in reply, ignoring the fact that the loud pounding of your heart in your ribcage seemed to reach the limit of its loudness, almost drowning out all other sounds. you pulled her along with you, your back falling onto the bed with a soft thud, leaving the woman to settle on your hips and watch you from above.

if arlecchino was sure, then you were also sure. you knew it wasn't how that worked, but you could let yourself forget that just for tonight.

arlecchino seemed like she was about to pounce on you, the hunger and lust in her eyes increasing rapidly as she watched the rise and fall of your chest; the way your breath would increase as she looked in your direction. her eyes wandered over your body, taking in every curve, every muscle, and every movement you made. her own breathing became slightly more ragged and she licked her lips.

"you're so beautiful," came out as a soft whisper, arlecchino's eyes now resembling a newfound tenderness that wasn't there before.

she leaned in closer, warm breath caressing your neck, her scent filling the air around you as her palms settled on your cheeks and jaw, thumbs caressing the skin mindlessly.

"may i?"

gods, she still asked for consent.

you exhaled shakily while realizing that; that she didn't want it to be just a decision in the heat of the moment. it warmed your heart, even if a little bit.

"anything."

arlecchino suddenly felt loved and wanted, and it was almost the same feeling that she always wanted to feel from no one but you.

you were giving herself up to her for one night, and she was going to make it count.

she kissed you like it was the last kiss of her life. she kissed you deeply, heartfeltly, lovingly, and with such intensity that it was like you two were the only people in the world, and both your and her touch screamed please, don't let me go.

—

you awoke just as the sun had begun to rise, the light from it shining through the curtains and onto the bed. the woman beside you shifted, too, seemingly being already awake for a little while.

arlecchino had watched you for a little bit while you slept. it was a sight she couldn't tear her eyes from away even if she wanted to. duties and titles long forgotten, this was what she wanted to see every day.

you blinked as the light found your eyes, rubbing them for a few seconds before focusing your gaze on the woman on the other side of the bed. neither of you spoke, for now.

you sat up on the bed, having the blanket cover up your naked, marked, loved body. arlecchino followed your every move, eyes only once wandering down to your back and back up to your face.

your heart hurt at the realization that it was already morning.

the night had ended.

you didn't want it to be over so fast.

looking down at the woman, you averted your eyes, feeling the need to blink away the sting of tears threatening to find their way out. one of your hands moved up, palm facing upwards. your fingers trembled as you exhaled shakily.

you got lost in your thoughts for a few moments. what if arlecchino won't take the gnosis? was that even possible in a situation like this?

certainly not, you must be daydreaming of some kind of hope.

glowing a soft light, floating up and down over your hand was your gnosis.

you stared at it, not blinking, then stared a little more, and then your hand shifted and offered the gnosis to arlecchino.

it was over. as simple as that.

arlecchino's breath hitched as she sat up to have a look at the small, glimmering chess piece. her hand slowly reached out and she took the gnosis from your hand, her fingers closing around it. she examined it closely, as if making sure it was real. to you, she looked satisfied with your deal.

"thank you very much, miss [name]."

you immediately noticed the change in tone. it became professional in just a few moments, leaving you confused.

she then stood up from the bed and started to put on her clothes. it was the sign that the deal was over and that her mission was complete. she didn't even look back at you, you thought. oh.

"well then... i guess my work here is done."

"...i guess it is," you could only reply quietly, eyes rooted to the woman's back as she got dressed.

you noticed the change in the woman's attitude, in her voice, and your heart basically shattered. it was like there were no kisses shared between you two just hours before, no compliments whispered, no intimate connections made. like the night before never existed.

you were just another mission.

of course it would be like this, you thought. you were the first to suggest that you both will never see each other again after this, and you were the one to fall for all of this.

but it still stung.

"you never meant it," you whispered in the end, realizing those words spoken and whispered so intimately were, apparently, just in a haze of situation. how predictable. you fell for that yet again.

arlecchino paused for a moment before she picked up her remaining clothes and turned to face you. her gaze was cold and emotionless, but she hesitated, before her expression purposefully changed into a more serious expression.

she needed to make you feel like she didn't have any feelings for you. it would be better for both of you. no bonds. no strings attached. she never wanted you to pine for her, as she was certainly not the one you needed to have beside her.

an archon and a harbinger. comical.

"i was agitated," arlecchino replied, voice turning back to previous hardness and flatness, zipping up her pants.

she hated saying the next words.

"you were just a means to an end."

pause.

your chest hurt. your eyes stung.

you wished you'd never heard any of this. you weren't ready to hear any of this. but now, these words will surely be engraved into your memory.

you didn't reply, and thus, there was silence. a loud one at that.

arlecchino felt the said silence like no other. she knew she'd achieved what she wanted just by witnessing your reaction.

you didn't stop looking in the direction where the woman was getting ready. neither did you react, just blinking away the tears from her eyes, preventing them from appearing.

your chest suddenly felt hollow, and not because of the gnosis that was no longer there.

arlecchino finished getting dressed quickly, since the silence in the room was getting more and more uncomfortable. it was a sign of your defeat, and she hated the realization of that.

she wanted to say something. wanted to take it back. to hug you. to kiss you again. to make love to you again. she wanted to tell you that she had fallen in love with you and that she wished everything was different.

but she knew that she would only end up hurting you more if she did so.

"i will be taking my leave."

you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood just trying to hold back your tears. your emotions. you weren't allowed to feel, but you felt, and it was suffocating you, dragging you towards the bottom.

"good job," you could only mutter, voice barely a whisper, gaze shifting back to the blanket.

arlecchino felt so much guilt for the words she had said. she knew how much pain those words were causing you, but she couldn't take them back even if she wanted to. the hurt was necessary.

she wanted nothing more than to go over to you, pull you into her arms, comfort you, and whisper how much she loves and cares for you. she wanted to apologize to you; wanted to tell you how sorry she was for hurting you.

but she didn't. she couldn't, because no one could know about the true feelings she had for you.

not even you.

so she just got dressed in silence, the weight of your gnosis in her pocket feeling heavier with every moment that passed. it's not like she could do anything other than that.

you heard arlecchino's hand placing itself on the door handle, and the woman paused momentarily, eyed wandering over to your form on the bed, scenes of the previous night flashing in front of her eyes as she looked at you.

the door clicked open, and she took one step outside your room before speaking her last words to you.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you, miss [name]."

the door closed.

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lewkwoodnco · 4 months

Text

buy me presents! - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: jealous!lockwood, gift giving (lockwood's version), I like to think I'm funny hehhe, maybe maybe veeery borderline crack fic? this is MY christmas present to myself and I WILL indulge in my favourite tropes so if you saw me kicking my feet like a thirteen-year-old, no u didnt. (I needed a concrete holiday for this so i used christmas but its all the same hehe) I've thrown the schedule out the window, it'll be a christmas miracle if all 12 fics even get written so happy holidays!!!!! wc 2.6k!!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She was sitting at the kitchen table, agonising over the horribly organised financial records of Lockwood & Co. As tedious as it was, she enjoyed the work the most out of the four of them, and had taken on the extra role of being somewhat of an accountant. She had lightly teased him about receiving a boost in her pay until she saw their dismal financial situation. The joke stopped being funny alarmingly quickly after that.

Lucy was hurrying through some last-minute packing, while George was trying to locate their train tickets, sporadically yelling through the house for Lockwood. She didn't have quite the heart to tell him that Lockwood had unfortunately escaped hours ago, winking at her as he had shrugged his coat on while she had been looking particularly ragged in the sea of receipts.

She hears the front door open, and after a minute or two, Lockwood walks into the kitchen, rosy-cheeked from the brisk morning air.

"How are the accounts?"

"Terrible. The only thing more astonishing that these bank statements is the fact that we somehow haven't gone bankrupt..." she presses a few more keys of her calculator. "...yet."

George yells again and they wince in unison.

"How long has that been going on?"

"Long enough. He's going to leave you here if you don't find him soon."

He sighed. The three of them were getting ready to leave for the holidays. Lucy was going back North to visit a friend, Lockwood and George were headed to George's for the holidays. She would have come to, but they were already at the max capacity and she had waved off their worries smoothly, since she had spent most of her Christmases alone as an agent. So, as much of a fuss Lockwood kicked up about it, she'd be celebrating Christmas in a cheery if empty 35 Portland Row.

"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"

"One of us has burnt a house down and it's not me. I like my chances."

"Still. Christmas, all alone?"

George yelled again, his voice entering a new octave.

"Christmas with peace and quiet, more like. You know, maybe they'd have space for me if you weren't bringing your mountain of hair products for you fancy hair."

He pulled his gloves off with a lazy smile.

"You think my hair's fancy?"

She rolled her eyes as Lockwood revealed a small delicate pastry box, sliding into the seat in front of her. She had had a feeling it was coming from the way he had been lingering in the kitchen.

"What's this?"

"Red velvet doughnut with those tiny candy cane sprinkles you like."

She traced the box longingly, feeling torn. "I thought Arif was fully booked with Christmas orders."

"He made an exception for you."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I might have...tipped him extra."

"Lockwood."

"You're going to be alone for the next week. It's the least I could do."

She looked at him sternly. Lockwood had the particularly bad habit of impulsive spending. She had carefully broached the topic of gift-giving with him before; namely, after the time he purchased an ornate decorative set of glass robins which she had casually expressed a vague interest in in passing. She tried to explain how gestures like that made her feel obligated to him, and he tried to explain it was the least he could do, given how much of their accounting work she shoulders. They never reached a satisfactory conclusion, and though he did tone it down afterwards, she would still come across the occasional trinket adorned with a frilly bow in her belongings.

It was this very spirit, in fact, that had inspired her to tediously and secretly work on creating a snow globe of 35 Portland Row for him. She couldn't find anything commensurate to the loving thoughtfulness behind each of his gifts, so the next best thing was one decent, homemade, meaningful present. Even though he was going away, she still wanted him to receive it on Christmas, so she had passed it to George. It had been a bit of a nerve-wracking decision, especially if she was being too forward, and she had a pair of snowmen socks at the ready for a backup, but now the snow globe was tucked safely in George's trunk and there was no going back.

"The least you could do is save your limited funds for things that actually matter." She pointedly flips her notebook close.

He reaches out towards her face but gets interrupted by Lucy yellnig at him from somewhere in the house for blocking the stairs with his bags. He scrambles off apologetically, nearly tripping over himself as her threats grow more vivid.

Their reserved cab, courtesy of George ("flagging down a cab one week before Christmas? In this economy?"), arrives and the four of them start piling way too much luggage in it. Just as they're about to leave, Lockwood hesitates and turns to her.

"It's not too late for me to stay."

She pushes him out the door, waving to the others as Lockwood stumbles clumsily down the steps.

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

"Y/N!"

"Lockwood? Hello?"

"Ho - How have you been?"

"What?"

There's a lot of commotion at the other end of the line. She had been waiting for them to call the past few days, and was eagerly settling down to hear all about the festivities. She can hear a thousand different sounds overlapping and the thuds of footsteps criss-crossing, mixed in with some familiar threats from unfamiliar voices. Huh. Though it did make sense that of all the things George might have inherited from his family, it would be this.

"Just a moment." She hears the kerfuffle die down and the crinkle of the telephone wire shifting. "Sorry, had to find a closet. Now, where were we?"

"Sounds busy."

"Oh, it is. But it's nice, meeting George's family. Had to fight them off with a stick to get to the telephone, though."

He hears the smile in her voice. "I can see that. So what have you been up to?"

"So much. Too much. Y/N, you cannot repeat this to George but...they take Christmas far too seriously."

"Really?"

"We spent an entire day picking out the tree. I am sick of Christmas cookies and it's only my second day here."

She frowned. "I told you to pace yourself."

"My fingers - oh, my poor fingers - worn down to the bone stringing popcorn and cranberries together."

"What's the popcorn for?"

"Hell if I know! They make Christmas look like an extreme sport."

She tried to suppress her smile, putting on a grave voice. "You have my sympathies."

"Good. Though I suppose it hasn’t been all bad. I liked the ornament painting. Plus, Belinda’s been helping me loads.”

“…Belinda?”

“George’s cousin. George’s somehow even busier than I am and I haven’t got a clue what’s going on sometimes, so she’s been a real help.”

“That’s nice,” she says bitterly. An uncomfortable silence follows.

“So, I was just saying, earlier, that I hope you're not feeling too lonely."

She lets him trail off, unhappily aware of how the only life and excitement the house had seen in the past three days was emnating solely from the telephone. She hadn't expected it to be this difficult to have a quiet Christmas.

"Oh, I'm fine." She stares at the Santa Claus figuring opposite her cynically. Saint Nicholas, indeed. "Just having a whale of a time with...Nicholas, here."

"Nicholas?"

An impulse brews in her head. It's a poor one, but she's got nothing to do, and it's Christmas.

"Yeah, Nicholas. I met him at the Christmas market. He's amazing, really."

"...Nicholas."

"Yeah."

"Never heard of him."

"He's a little bit older. I wouldn't expect you to know him."

"Hm."

"Anyway, I've hardly even noticed you've left, since we hang out together so much."

"So, you're spending time...with him?"

"Oh, he's not here right now. He's been a bit busy today at his..." she cast her eyes around wildly, landing on a a porcelain figurine of some grinning elves. "...workshop."

"Workshop?"

"He carves wood. He's a wood carver. You should see some of the ornaments he makes. He's great with his hands."

"I'm sure he is."

Lockwood gets too irritable to continue the conversation much further and they hang up soon after. By the time they were done, the sun had set and the house was in complete darkness: the perfect atmosphere for brooding. So what if he'd rather spend Christmas with girls like Belinda? She didn't care. Good...riddance.

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

A few days later, she collects the mail and finds an envelope addressed to her in Lockwood's narrow, slanted handwriting. She rips it open like a kid on Christmas morning, but her smile twists when she sees the Christmas card inside. There's a picture of George's entire extended family-and-friends, and Lockwood's hunched over in the corner, next to a girl with effortlessly pretty hair. They're wearing matching sweaters. Not the whole family, just the two of them. While she had always reluctantly accepted the occasional gift from him with an appropriate amount of embarrassment, nothing could have prepared her for the sight of undeniable proof that he just might do the same for others. Picking out a present, spending his money, on her? Disgusting.

It's enough to make her jam it forcefully under the telephone. Next to it, she spies the slip of paper with George's personal telephone number jotted down, in case of an emergency. She drums her fingers impatiently while the phone rings, eyeing the clock while she adds in the time difference. She feels so stupid over the snow globe now. What on earth had possessed her? If she's lucky, Lockwood might have gone to bed by now and she just might catch George-

"H'llo?" Lockwood's sleep-roughened voice strains through the static hum.

"Nothing, go back to sleep."

"Y/N?"

"You're dreaming. Hush now. Good night-"

"Y/N." He sounds wide awake now, and she can hear him start to sit up. The plainness in his voice starts to fade as he gets steadily mroe assertive. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine. I didn't realise it would be so late for you. Listen - is George there?"

"He's helping with the caramel apples."

"Ah. Do you think you could tell him to phone me when he has the time?"

"Oh, no worries, I'll see him at dinner later. I can pass the message."

She swears internally. "Oh it's nothing. Just wanted to have a chat, see how he was doing."

"He's doing fine."

There's an awkward silence. She can tell he's barely convinced, and the discomfort from the Christmas card prickles at the back of her neck.

"Get anything in the mail?"

"I haven't checked," she lied, clenching the card in her hand. Stupid, lousy card. It was ridiculously childish but really; her acquired expensive taste was his fault for encouraging it in the first place. "I've just been so busy with Nicholas, you know."

"I see."

"Why? Did you mail something over?"

"Just a Christmas card. No big deal."

"Aw. Thanks." She wants to curl up and die. The snow globe was most definitely overkill. She should have gone with the socks.

"Did Nicholas get you anything?"

"He really only goes by Nick."

She can hear the distaste in his voice. "A nickname. How...quaint."

"We went to see The Nutcracker, and took a walk in the park, if you really must know." It had been more like her sitting alone in the park, miserably tossing the pigeons with small kernels of roasted chestnuts.

"Oh. Did he...get you a gift?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I don't. He just sounds like a..." His voice changes and she can tell he's pulling some kind of face. "...like an interesting person."

"He is."

"Good."

"Great."

"Glad we cleared that up."

They fume at each other through the phone for a while.

"I talked to George, by the way. He doesn't remember a Nicholas either."

"Yes, well, that's because...he doesn't stay here. In London. No, he's part of a, whaddyacallit, travelling group with the, er, Christmas market."

"Like...a circus?"

"...yes."

"Well. As long you're having fun..."

"I am. So much fun." She had a white-knuckle grip on the telephone. Why was she tearing up?

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," he whispers. His voice somehow still manages to sound soft and measured over the telephone, as if he were sitting right next to her. And even through the telephone, he sounds sad.

"Merry Christmas Lockwood."

She pulls the card from under the telephone, staring at the family picture. She flips it and sees a short message scrawled hurriedly at the back.

'Thinking about things that matter. Thinking about you.'

The dial tone reverberates through her skull.

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

She wakes up suddenly the next morning, and she can't figure out why. It's so cold and quiet that it takes her a minute to remember that it's Christmas Eve. She has approximately two seconds to wallow in self-pity before the racket starts back up. Someone's knocking firmly at the door, loud enough to make her head pound, interspersed with some heated yet unintelligible conversation with someone else.

She opens the door and almost immediately gets the wind knocked out of her. It's Lockwood, wearing a ridiculously tinseled Santa hat, hands full of shopping bags. There's also a majorly peeved George standing behind him, carrying their bags and, surprisingly, even more shopping bags.

Lockwood hands her one of the bags, which she numbly takes, before pulling her in for a hug, and it all happens so quick it takes her a minute or two for her mind to catch up with what's happening.

"L-huhh? George? Wha- Aren't you supposed to be -"

"Surprise! Couldn't bear the thought of you having to spend Christmas all alone. Close the door behind the presents, George, you're letting the cold in."

George grumbles something about his mother never letting him live this down and where he can stick the presents. She gapes at the presents in alarm, dizzy at the sight of the avalanche of multicoloured bows.

"These can't all be for me. Right? Right?"

Lockwood bulldozes past her as if she hadn't even said anything. "Unless, of course, Nicholas is here! Is he?"

"Lockwood, wai-"

"I wonder if he got you these many presents. I'm sure he tried his best, of course, poor chap."

"Will you stop, for a minute?"

"That's his jacket, isn't it? He stayed the night, didn't he? Wait." He stops so abruptly and looks so crestfallen that something tugs at her in her chest. "He stayed the night?"

"Lockwood." A lot had happened in the past minute, but she was finally caught up. Even though she knows it's her fault for making him up in the first place, she never meant for it to get this far. "Nicholas isn't here, because there is no Nicholas. It was a joke. I'm spending Christmas all alone, I had to do something. I made him up for kicks.

George throws his head back and starts laughing, dropping the shiny shopping bags around the two of them, laughter fading as he wades his way to the kitchen. Now that he's calmed down, even Lockwood has enough decency to look slightly embarrassed.

"Dear God, don't tell me you came all the way back over Nicholas."

"I...I didn't. I had...all these presents..."

It's a lame excuse, and even he realises it when he looks at her face. He stands there for a very long minute, and then very suddenly walks to his room, leaving her surrounded by the sea of bags and frenzily wrapped presents. He turns stiffly at his bedroom door with a mildly stern, completely unabashed expression on his face. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from grinning.

"Merry Christmas."

TAGLIST: @mischivana @dangelnleif @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @elenianag080 @houseoftwistedspirits

#lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #fanfiction #lockwood & co #fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood imagine #sabrina carpenter #fruitcake #buy me presents #side note i am so obsessed w writing huhhhhhhhhhhh any and every time i can #love tacking on an infinte amount of 'h' at the end #thats how much i have no idea abt whats going on at any time

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sebastianswallows · 11 months

Note

Hello! Could I offer you a prompt? I often see fics about Ominis experiencing sight for the first time, but how about Slytherin!MC being the one afflicted with a temporary blindness, and now having to rely on Ominis for guidance, 'seeing' the world from his perspective? Maybe as a result of some unruly student's potion experiment? Thank you for your time and work!

Hello, nonny!

Thank you so much for an Ominis prompt! I love to write about this sweetest boy. And sorry this took so long, my dear 💚

Oh my though, I guess I don't read fics with him often enough, because I haven't noticed that many where he experiences sight. Not sure how I'd feel about those, because it... takes away from his character, sort of. I don't know.

Anyway! I have a fluffy little fic for you 😘 Hope you enjoy it!

I wrote it that it was all Garreth's fault, because of course.

— PAIRING: Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

She cursed Garreth all the way to the Hospital Wing. The classroom was left in deathly silence after the Gryffindoor’s latest experiment had literally exploded in her face. Professor Sharp seemed… worried, but not very shocked. Clearly, things like that had happened before — especially since Garreth had started studying at Hogwarts. For his part, the boy seemed horribly contrite, or so he sounded as he fretted over her. She suspected at least half of his regret was due to the inevitably harsh detention he had to look forward to — perhaps something even worse, if the damage to her eyes proved permanent.

As she made her way through the castle, leaning on Sebastian and Natty — who both insisted to go with her, the sweethearts — she could think of nothing else. She couldn’t see anything. The last thing she had seen was Garreth’s smouldering cauldron where he was pointing out the way a particular piece of snail shell was melting, and then a great big flash of green, then blackness. She had thought for a moment that she’d fainted, but then she realised her eyes were open. By the time they reached the Nurse, her heart was still pounding at such a frantic rate she thought she was going to be sick.

“Well, she’s blind alright,” said Nurse Blainey after performing a few charms.

“What did you think? That I was lying?!”

“I will wring Garreth’s scrawny little nec—”

“Watch your tongue, Mr Sallow.”

“Can you fix it?” asked Natty in the most politely-frustrated voice she’d ever heard.

There followed a long discussion about what had caused it, which required them to bring Professor Sharp there — who, to his shame, hadn’t exactly been aware of what his students were doing — then Garreth — who also wasn’t sure what had happened with his potion, but he could at least list the ingredients he’d used.

All the while, she waited there in silence, hearing voices all around, footsteps echoing close and far, and tense, worried conversations. The Nurse had placed her in one of the beds in the corner while they decided what to do with her. Natty and Sebastian stayed by her side, quarrelling over what potions they could brew to cure her until she had to tell them to shut up.

By the time classes were done for the day, the Nurse had reached the conclusion that Garreth’s failed experiment, while exceedingly dangerous, would not affect her sight for long. Only a few weeks.

“A few weeks?!”

“Yes, two or three. Four if you’re unlucky.” She could hear the woman shrug.

“What am I supposed to do for three weeks? How can I study? How—”

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re not our only blind student. I’m sure Mr Gaunt can be of some help to you during this time.”

She recoiled at hearing it. “I don’t want to be a burden to—”

“Nonsense,” said Sebastian from somewhere behind her. “Ominis would do it happily!”

“I would,” said the boy. A pause followed as everyone else realised he’d entered the room. From the sound of it, he was standing a few feet in front of her.

The Nurse was happy with this arrangement, which meant fewer responsibilities for her. Professor Sharp breathed a sigh of relief, after which he promised to write to her parents and inform them. Sebastian and Natty, meanwhile, were disgustingly supportive, trying all the while to cheer her up. She shunned all of them, and would only go back to the Common Room with Ominis.

“Do you wish to have dinner first?” he asked quietly as they walked out of the Hospital Wing arm in arm.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbled. “…Wait, are you?”

Ominis chuckled. “Could send Sebastian out to the kitchens to bring us something… He would do it. Careful, stairs.”

They went down step-by-step, and all through the castle, and after what felt like too long they finally made it to the Slytherin Common Room. She knew she was slowing them down, and Ominis didn’t deny it, but he was supportive the whole way — and not in that fretful, exaggerated, compensatory way Sebastian and Natty were, and not in the anxious manner of Garreth…

If Ominis was worried about her condition, he didn’t show it. As cool and calm as the lake, as sturdy as the rock Hogwarts was built on, he was by her side from the first moment.

The first order of business, while Sebastian fetched them a late dinner, was for her to learn the echolocation spell Ominis used to walk around.

“No, don’t hold it pointing down,” he said as he guided her hand. “Straight forward is better.”

“But what if I stumble onto something?”

“The spell will detect it in time.”

“Well I’m not feeling anything yet…”

“Just… try to cast it harder.”

“Cast it harder? You’re terrible at teaching spells. I want Sebastian back.”

“Yes, well, Sebastian can’t cast it,” mumbled Ominis.

“What can’t I cast?” asked the boy as he dashed into the Common Room.

She could already smell ham and cheese and the salty-sweet aroma of cold sausages. Two plates clinked as Sebastian placed them on the table by the fireplace, where she and Ominis were standing.

“My echolocation spell.”

“Ah yes, can’t cast that,” he said, followed by the soft floof of him plopping on the sofa.

They didn’t make much progress on that first night. His wand was far more accustomed to performing it than hers — but the promise of being able to learn it helped her sleep that night, after an hour or so of crying in fear and anger.

Waking up the next day was disorienting. She felt herself wake, she felt her eyes open, but not seeing anything seemed so… unreal. She nearly panicked all over again. Being in the dungeons, there was no sunlight to feel on her skin to let her know whether it was even morning, but then she heard the other girls shuffling around the room.

Imelda led her to the washroom, and later helped her dress — and for once, she didn’t have a snarky thing to say.

“Must be quite a nightmare,” the girl commented in what she perhaps imagined to be a sympathetic tone. “Can’t imagine flying in this state…”

“Yes, well, thanks Imelda, neither can I…”

She was relieved to hear Ominis’ voice again when she came downstairs.

“Over here!”

“How did you know it was me?” she asked, arms stretched in front of her in what she was sure must’ve been comical.

“You have a distinctive magical echo.”

“Do I…?”

“And Sebastian told me.”

“Morning,” the boy grinned from behind his friend.

Still, Ominis must certainly have been good at detecting where she was, because she felt his hand cup hers within seconds.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“Just followed the sound of your voice,” he smiled.

“It all sounds the same to me…”

“You might think it does now, but eventually you’ll find it’s easy to tell distance by sound… The whole castle has very good acoustics for this sort of thing, in fact.”

“You make it seem so easy,” she smiled, her eyes tearing up at the sheer scope of all she had to learn to just survive the next few weeks.

“I promise you’ll find it easy too,” said Ominis, placing his warm hand on top of hers as she held his arm. “Open fields, now that can be an issue. But inside, here? You’ll get used to it in no time.”

Sebastian followed them for breakfast, but walked at a bit of a distance, letting Ominis explain things. Going to the Great Hall was a bit faster today than going to the dungeons had been the day before. She walked a bit more confidently already…

Breakfast was spent learning more about judging distance by sound.

“Here, now you try,” said Ominis, handing her a jug of pumpkin juice and an empty glass.

He’d just demonstrated how easily she could guess when a cup was close to filling by the sound the liquid made as it was poured — from a deep sound to a high one. She filled it just the right amount.

“That’s very good!”

“Really?” she grinned.

Feeling around the plate with the cutlery was done easily enough, but finding out what each pile of food held relied more on her sense of smell…

“Ah, I… wouldn’t recommend that.”

“What did I just pick up in my spoon?”

“What does it smell like to you?” asked Ominis with a little smile.

“Mashed potatoes…?”

“Well, I just hope you like parsnip porridge.”

And getting food onto her plate presented another difficulty… A few sausages rolled away before she gave up and picked them up with her hands rather than the fork, her knife kept slipping and clanging loudly on the plate whenever she cut into something, and her fingers landed in mustard sauce more than once.

After a little trial and error and a bit more cursing, she finally managed to get something she really liked. She moaned with pleasure, but it was cut short by Sebastian’s giggling.

“Whot?” she asked with her mouth full.

“Nothing,” he said with an obvious smile.

“What did you take?” asked Ominis curiously.

“It’s a seed cake,” she said defensively. “Just a little syrupy, that’s all.”

Sebastian laughed into his fist.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he said again. “Just… always thought you hated spotted dick.”

“Ewww!”

By the time breakfast was over, she was more angry than upset. Ominis considered it an improvement — at least she wasn’t on the verge of crying anymore. He supported her elbow with his hand as they walked out together. When the sounds of students passing by got louder, he felt her clinging to him more.

“Don’t be nervous…”

“Oh,” she said, her hand relaxing, “sorry.”

“It’s not just that,” he chuckled. “I could hear your breathing pick up, and your footsteps too, as if you were stomping on the ground.”

“It’s that obvious?!”

“It is,” he nodded. “For instance, how do you think I feel now?”

She sighed, feeling completely at sea as they walked together to class, in a direction she couldn’t tell, surrounded by noisy students — and Ominis was testing her.

“I don’t know… Calm, I suppose.”

“Why is that?”

“Your voice is low, and your arm is steady, and… and I can hear you smiling when you speak.”

“That’s quite good,” he chuckled.

What Ominis didn’t say was that he also felt worried about her, and worried about how useful he could be in these following weeks, how good of a guide or a teacher… He thought that it was obvious from his clipped tone and his lingering silences, but was glad to be proven wrong.

The first class of the day was, predictably, horrible. They had Charms, and the girl could scarcely follow the instructions on wand movements, had no idea whether the egg she was given had been shrunken and enlarged according to instructions, and was left feeling around for it awkwardly in order to tell where it was.

“How do you even know where to point your wand?” she sighed frustratedly.

“That’s where the echolocation spell will come in useful,” said Ominis from beside her. “It’s not just the direction, but the depth as well, how far something is from you.”

“We have to practice that more,” she grumbled, waving her wand uselessly. “Undercroft, after class.”

They ended up spending every break in their schedule that day in their secret room, with Ominis placing random obstacles in front of her while she tried and tried and… finally succeeded in making her wand cast the spell. It was just before they had to go to dinner.

“I did it!”

“Not bad,” said the boy — and she could hear his voice approaching, could hear his steps resounding in tighter and tighter echoes. “The cast is still pretty weak though…” She could tell he had his hand in front of her wand, judging the strength of the pulse for himself.

“It’s such a strange sensation… I can feel the shape of your hand in mine, through the wand, but it’s…”

“It’s a bit blurred, isn’t it?” he smiled.

“Yes, as if… as if through a fog.”

“Well, I’ve never seen fog,” Ominis chuckled, “but I’ll take your word for it.”

They went to dinner together and this time she walked on her own, holding her own wand in front. She grinned at being able to sense Ominis’ own echolocation spell, like rings on the face of a lake meeting each other.

“Can you feel people’s features with this spell?” she asked quietly as they entered the Great Hall.

“Not particularly… The size of someone, perhaps, but it is not so fine as to tell you what somebody looks like.”

“Can you tell the difference between, for instance, Sebastian and Garreth?”

“Naturally,” he laughed. “Garreth smells of toxic fumes. Sebastian smells of Confringo.”

Although that dinner was still speckled with splashes of sauce and spilt pumpkin juice, each meal got easier as the week progressed. Her echolocation spell, as well, got stronger. She wasn’t exactly confident enough to run through Hogwarts’ halls, but she found it easier to avoid running into people — and not get bumped into either, as her hearing became better at picking up all motions around her.

Attending class was easier too. She soon learned how to take notes on her own, although she wasn’t sure when she’d get the chance to read them. Ominis taught her a neat trick of holding onto the inkwell and use her fingers to precisely dip her quill in it. To tell whether she’d taken enough ink, she could test it on her finger first and see if the tip felt wet.

“You’re sure you don’t want a self-writing quill?” he asked.

“I want it,” she said, but first I want to do this on my own.

Ominis smiled. “And keep track of the parchment too. Find something as a placeholder for where you left off. Don’t want to write on top of what you’ve already written.”

With his guidance, she mastered a fairly simple system of holding onto the parchment with one hand, finger poised on her last line, and then cupping the inkwell with the other before dipping her quill.

What she still had trouble with well into the second week was spellcasting.

“How… just… how?” she hissed, smacking her wand up and down during a particularly troublesome Transfigurations class.

She heard a subtle laugh, and knew that it was Ominis. “Having trouble?”

“How am I expected to transform this damned ferret into a feather duster when the damned thing keeps moving?!”

Ominis had mastered the spell quickly, she thought, as she could hear no more animal squeaks from his side. About half the class had finished, judging by the mix of sounds from satisfied students and ferret trills.

She felt a warmth approach her from the side. Ominis took gentle hold of her wrist.

“Here,” he said, “maintain the location spell, and do the motions of the transfiguration spell from your wrist.”

She tried it a few times, his hand constantly around her wrist.

“Listen to where the animal is too, don’t lose track of him in case he runs away.”

She grit her teeth and frowned, ready to give up, but with Ominis’s help, she finally managed to do it just before the class was done.

“Bloody annoying,” she sighed, dropping her wand to the desk and wiping her sweaty palm on her robes. “Thank you, Ominis,” she mumbled. “Doubt I could’ve done it without you…”

“You could have,” she heard him smile. “Just would’ve taken you longer.”

To help calm her nerves, the boy suggested they go for a walk around the lake.

They walked and walked until the sun set. They could feel it as the air cooled all around them, as the evening grew loud with nightbirds, as the grounds became silent with all the other students gone inside the castle…

It felt strange to walk beside Ominis like that, without a word, without a touch, only the quiet sound of his footsteps in the grass. The water of the lake lapped on the shore beside them in lazy little waves, stirred perhaps by the creatures underneath or the light breeze. It set her senses on fire to feel how different it was to have that large, cold body of water on one side, and the warm shape of Ominis on the other — because she could feel it, could feel every detail. Even the wet earth underfoot and the grass, the dead leaves and dry branches, they all had a scent of their own that filled her mind more than the mere image of them ever could. Although she missed her sight very much, she could not deny that she felt more connected to everything around her in this way…

Her hand reached out and took Ominis’s arm — his right one, where he held his wand. Not even needing to ask, he switched it to the other hand and held her palm in his.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, but from his tone, she could tell he wasn’t worried.

“No,” she said. “Just wanted to feel your hand.”

“Well, there it is,” he chuckled. “Bit clammy… Sorry about that. Always gets that way when I hold my wand too long.”

“Mine too,” she smiled.

Their fingers interlinked as they kept their slow walk around the edge of the Black Lake. A thought kept swirling in her head, and she was torn between giving voice to it or keeping it to herself. She didn’t know if Ominis could tell, but —

“What’s on your mind?”

— of course he could.

“How did you know?”

“I swear I can hear you thinking sometimes. It’s the same with Sebastian.”

She laughed, but said nothing.

“So?” he asked again. “What is it?”

Her hand tightened slightly around his. “I was wondering if you might seem to the touch the same way you look. The face, I mean, and all that…”

“Ah,” he said, his tone teetering somewhere between amused and nervous, “you want to try to… ‘see me’ with your hands?”

“Could I?” she asked, her face turning slightly toward him as if she could better detect how he was reacting to all of this.

“Only if I could do the same,” said Ominis with a tight smile.

They reached as far around the lake as the grounds permitted and sat together on one large, smooth rock. Beneath them, they could hear the lapping of the water, quiet and gentle, and owls hooting far off in the woods. It felt almost as if she were floating on air, cross-legged, far from the ground, with nothing surrounding her but the cool night.

They tucked their wands in their pockets and fiddled their thumbs, both too timid to start.

“Well, you asked,” said Ominis after a prolonged nibbling of his lips, “so you go first.”

“Alright,” she sighed, her mouth pulled up into a nervous smile.

She stretched her hands before her gently and was almost startled when they reached his chest. His school uniform was much like hers, a little rough, but well tended to. Moving upwards, she reached his neck, and quickly skipped it until she felt the smooth line of his jaw with both her hands. For no reason at all, her eyes closed. Perhaps it felt more peaceful that way…

His chin was delicate and pointed, leading up in soft angles to his ears. Moving inward, her thumbs traced his high cheekbones, his temples, his arched brows, then dipped delicately over his eyes — his were closed as well. She smiled as she tickled the surface of her fingers with his long lashes.

“Well?” asked Ominis. “Is there a resemblance?”

“I think so,” she smiled. “You look the way you feel.”

“Oddly poetic of you,” he chuckled.

Her hands slid slowly down his face, framing his slightly long nose, falling then to his lips, soft and full. She gasped at feeling them, noting things she never realised before: how delicate they were, how defined, and slightly dry… She traced down to his chin again when she felt them part.

“Yes, I suppose that’s you,” she joked. Her giggles filled the tense air around them. She could feel him smile against her fingertips.

“My turn now,” said Ominis.

She squeezed her hands in her lap as she waited, and then the boy surprised her by cupping her face and slowly bringing them together, covering her like a mask.

He felt her from chin to forehead, taking in the full plains of her features, before he began to touch them each in part. He brushed her eyebrows upward, traced the shape of her eyes, ran his finger delicately down her nose to the tip, and brushed his thumb against her lips while his other hand caressed a broad path from her forehead to her jaw. She felt very thoroughly known after this…

They walked back to the castle in silence, hand-in-hand. As they did, she noticed in herself a feeling of… peace, of not caring anymore that she couldn’t see. She missed the colours of everything around, of course, the beams of light, the peaceful glow of the Slytherin dorms, the star-filled sky at night, but she didn’t feel like she lacked anything anymore.

That made it all the more shocking when, three and a half weeks into her blindness, she began to see vague shapes of light. Ominis’ thin face bloomed into a smile when she told him. She could see it in spite of the cloudiness of her vision.

She still used the echolocation spell to get around, and breakfast became easier, but the blending of shapes and colours so overwhelmed her senses that often she would close her eyes when she wished to concentrate.

It was probably for the best, as she fell behind on her coursework and had never gotten to practice reading Braille with Ominis. Her notes, she now could tell, were atrocious, and her fingers were horribly stained even now.

As the days passed, her vision gradually improved, and by the end of the fourth week, she was almost back to normal. Her eyes teared, unused to all the details.

“Come now, no need to cry over it,” said Ominis with an awkward laugh. They were returning from another visit to the Hospital Wing, where the Nurse had checked her progress.

“I’m not crying,” she sniffled. “How could you tell, anyway?”

“You mean aside from your voice being all choked up and your breathing irregular? Just a lucky guess.”

“I’m just feeling… too much, I think.”

Ominis took her hand in his. “I know,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll miss it too.”

And she didn’t need to ask what he meant.

#sswallow;answers #Ominis Gaunt #Ominis Gaunt fanfiction #Ominis Gaunt imagine #Ominis Gaunt x Reader #Ominis Gaunt x MC #hl #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics

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xxsycamore · 7 months

Text

"I can't have sex with you Arthur, I don't have enough diamonds!!"

Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader • rating: M (MDNI) • tags: Breaking the Fourth Wall; Crack; Implied Sexual Content; Suggestive Themes • wordcount: 580 • masterlist

a/n: I've had this crack fic idea since FOREVER, but I think it's relatable at any given time... Tagging @ikemendood for crack content 👉🏻👈🏻

It has been one of these days, when it feels like you and Arthur have been locked in the universe of some kind of action movie. Bizzare and dramatic things have been happening all day long, some that led to miscommunications between you but quickly got resolved with the power of love...

Naturally, eager as you both are to once again prove your love for each other, things begin to get heated at the end of the day.

And then you gasp panically in realization.

"I don't have enough dia for the epilogue!!"

You find yourself pushed down on the bed, but in the last second you manage to block Arthur with your hands so he can't get on top of you yet.

"Hmm?~What did you say, Luv? You know, I've been waiting to have you sprawled under me allll day..."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out an agonizing whine at having to disobey your own need. You turn to your side and reach for your cellphone that has been charging on the nightstand.

Arthur blinks, still perplexed that you're using this thing at all. While you could charge it just fine, he wondered what you're using it for in this day and age.

Not to mention at a time like that. While he's right there, ready to devour you.

"Dear?"

You appear to be tapping hurriedly on the thing, blue light illuminating your face as some strange music is produced from the bizarre piece of technology. Without looking at your lover, you struggle to mutter an answer.

"It's- You wouldn't understand."

Arthur remains frozen in his place, observing as the screen flashes, your fingers dancing on it. He sees... test tubes aligned on the screen. They're ...filled with different colored liquid?

You rush to sort them by color as if you're being held at gunpoint. Arthur has never been so confused in his life.

"Luv, you're right, I don't understand. But you could just say if you don't feel in the mood for-"

"NO! I MUST GET THE EPILOGUE AND HAVE SEX WITH YOU TONIGHT!"

"...?"

The sultry conclusion, the epilogue of your day spent together, he figures. His writer's vocabulary might be rubbing off on you. That's kind of endearing, but...

Arthur sits down on his haunches perplexed. Is this some strange form of bedroom roleplay you're introducing him to?

"I must have you, Arthur, I even saw the preview and it was so hot-"

"The preview? You're saying you had a naughty dream about us making love and you want to see it come true? Dirty girl..."

Arthur's distracting words make you mess up in your game, and you have to restart the level. Just a few more and the game will give you a reward in diamonds, then all you need to do would be to watch those annoying daily ads and then it should be enough...

Seeing that his dirty talk has no effect on you, Arthur sighs and moves away from his position. Instead, he lies down next to you, becoming your big spoon as he looks over your shoulder at the game you're so consumed in, seeing that you're not going to pay him any attention before you're done with it.

"It's some kind of puzzle game, isn't it? Maybe you should leave it to me, Luv... in the meantime, why don't you tell me more about that 'preview' you saw of our intimate time together, hmm?"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @princess-pray-a Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp crack #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen fanfic #ikemen crack #ikemen #ikemen series #otome #otome fanfic

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pumpkinbxtch · 18 days

Note

*slides into your requests*

Hi hello I'm here to feed my Frank love 💕

I looooove how you write him because he can be so sweet and loving and MWAH

But do you think you can write a fic where it's Reader (doesn't matter the gender to me 😊) where they have the worst time trying to flirt with him so they end up flirting with him via baked goods and stuff? Just the whole "I can't voice my love without being an idiot so here's a plate of spaghetti 🍝" 👀

food is better than pickup lines ✧⁠*⁠。

— frank zhang x fem!reader

summary: you wanted to flirt with frank, The situation is that it turns out that you are not that good at it, so you think of a different way to make him understand your feelings.

warnings: none, maybe language.

a/n: omg, you guuuys *runs and rings a bell* a frank request and it's super cute and amazin ideaaa, livin the dream frfr. thank you for your sweet words and for share me this dream of yours. i hope you like it ): — kisses from mars (tee-hee), maría 🩵

You were determined, you'd make Frank understand that you were terribly in love with him… well, something like that. Actually, you were already doing it, but it wasn't until that moment that you realized you had replaced pickup lines with baked goods. Why?

Man, flirting wasn't your thing. But the terrible part was that you didn't know you were actually so bad at it. You realized it once you had already said such embarrassing, terrible things that there was no doubt you had killed one or several seduction fairies somewhere on the planet.

— Is someone waiting for you, Frank…? — you hinted that time. He looked up from his paperwork and when you saw how his eyebrows slowly came together, you knew you had done it again.

Behind him, Piper covered her mouth and stifled a laugh. Was there anything crueler than a daughter of Aphrodite laughing at your seduction maneuvers?

— Someone waiting for me? — he asked, leaning slightly over the bar that separated them. Frank thought maybe he hadn't heard you right.

Your hands continued working on his tea, but internally you were kicking yourself. To cover it up, you let out a laugh.

— Yeah…— He looked at you closely, scanning, pondering all the possibilities of that comment. Apparently reaching a conclusion, his lips curved into a smile.

— Sometimes I don't know when you're joking.— He reached out to pat your head and ruffled your hair gently. That time, you blessed Frank's innocence and swore you'd never use phrases-to-seduce-your-crush.com again.

Gods, what about that time when Piper tried to help you by pushing you towards him? You said something about him being too tall, and in an attempt to turn it into an opportunity to say something cute, you ended up calling him Giraffrank. GI-RA-FFRANK. You wished you could steal that memory and bury it in the deepest recesses of Tartarus.

No, you simply couldn't go on with that, or you'd end up confessing to him in an even more embarrassing way (if that was possible).

In your despair, you grabbed some ingredients from the cafeteria and let your woes turn into nothing less than strawberry-filled mochis. You lifted them to appreciate their fluffiness and felt a touch on your shoulder. You almost forgotten Piper was there.

—That? — She looked at the tray and raised her eyebrows playfully. — Can I try?

— Sure, take them — you said listlessly, sliding the tray across the marble table to your friend. Piper ignored it upon noticing your bad mood and hugged you.

— Frank is really hard to catch, girl. He's so… clueless. — Your friend pressed her lips together and stroked your hair. At least you had her.

— You're not going to tell me it's my lack of skills in saying charming things?— Piper looked away, trying to avoid answering, and you shrugged.

Her consolation to you was interrupted by the doorbell. Both of you looked up. It was late.

— We're closing!— Piper shouted, approaching the counter while you stood at the back. Seeing her stop abruptly and shoot you a sparkling glance, you moved closer. As soon as you saw the purple shirt, you wanted to bury yourself in the pile of dishes you had to wash, but before you could do it, Frank smiled at the sight of you.

— Ladies...— The guy bowed. Despite his apparent diplomacy, your friend had a playful smile adorning his face. — I was passing by and saw the lights on. It's about time you were at the camp, and I remind you that you're only working here for your spring break, so I can't allow you to be out longer than permitted.

— Well, it's our good Frank playing preator — Piper joked while giving you a look. You forced a smile and nodded.

— While you're here, you're my responsibility. Camp Half-Blood would never forgive us if anything happened to you.

— Believe me, Frank, they don't care as long as we come back in one piece — Piper said disdainfully. She cleaned the nearest table and offered the Roman a seat, which he accepted with an excuse.

— Is something wrong? —The guy asked, giving you a concerned look.

Unconsciously, you had stayed behind the counter in complete silence. Piper gestured to you, but you were so afraid of messing things up that you didn't want to even speak. You just shook your head and forced another fake smile.

Piper made a gesture of annoyance without Frank noticing and signaled to you again, which you still didn't understand. She realized she had to act, or you would never get anywhere.

— In fact, she's tired of making the new cafeteria dessert, right? — You frowned, not understanding Piper's movement. This time, she pointed at the mochis, and you widened your eyes.

— Yeaaah, and I don't think you want to try them. It's the first time I've made them, and I don't want to poison you.

— Oh, come on, we know you're good at this! — Your friend insisted, making faces and signals for you to seize that opportunity.

— That's true — Frank said, giving you a radiant and confident smile.

Without much enthusiasm, you went to put a few on a plate and left them in front of him. Immediately, the guy examined them with surprise.

— Mochis?

Your cheeks burned. Stupid Chinese dessert.

Frank widened his smile and eagerly took one into his mouth. The sound of enjoyment he made churned your stomach nervously. Apparently, you did something good that day.

Frank's eyes locked onto yours with a sparkle, and he smiled at you again in that way only he knew and the same one that kept you awake at night. — Delicious!

“am I so in love with him?” you wondered, and with just that word, you regained your humor and motivation. Your mind thought that would be the best way to express your feelings to Frank. You walked to the counter where the others were and packed them in a bakery box with the cafeteria logo. When you returned, you gave it to him.

— For me? — He said, amazed, with a curious look.

— Yes, for you.

And you knew it was the best way to express it. "Show, don't tell," you thought.

Despite being happy with your approach, Piper lamented in the depths of the kitchen as she washed the dishes. She should have tried one of those desserts before speaking.

And that's how things went. Maybe for you, it was almost like a vacation, but Frank had to keep being a praetor, training, and attending to his responsibilities, which consumed most of his days, so you provided him with some food. From that day on, you never stopped cooking for him.

— Frank! — Seeing him covered in sweat with a spear in hand, you felt nervous, but you approached him anyway, handing him the dish.

—Spaghetti. I know you guys have your own magical kitchen, but...

You nervously smiled as he took it as something precious, and the corners of his lips lifted. Your breath seemed to catch as you admired how impressive his beauty was to you, the breadth of his shoulders and the strength he seemed to possess. It seemed counterproductive how someone with his appearance was actually such a kind, gentle, and adorable person.

— You don't have to bother — his velvety voice snapped you out of the trance. Still, he held the dish against his chest and smiled sweetly.—Thanks, do you mind if...? — A whistle interrupted him, and his expression seemed to harden, he was annoyed. Without wanting to interrupt his duties, you gestured for him to go, and he walked away from you because he had no other choice. At that moment, Frank hated being a praetor, but you felt relieved not to have to talk to him, taking risks.

The following days were like the ABCs of love... with dishes.

L - for Lasagna

O - for an Omelet

V - for Vegetable Soup

E - for Enchiladas

Each one adapted to lactose intolerance. Sometimes in the middle of the process, you felt your cheeks burning, the embarrassment overwhelming, almost stupid, but you really wanted to let Frank know that you cared about him, and it seemed like you did. It better be that way.

Piper entered through the back door, and after sniffing the aroma of tomato pasta, she groaned.

— Damn it, Frank! — She exclaimed as she put on an apron. —I'll help, but he gets the best part

You laughed as you cleaned the counter and headed to the microwave, where you took out a plate already served. You approached your friend and handed it to her. —Thanks, Pipes.

She accepted your thanks with a mouthful and praised your culinary skills.

— Frank... has he said anything to you? — Piper asked once she swallowed the bite, noticing that strange tone, you glanced at her sideways.

—About what? — Anxiety rushed through your thoughts, and you turned quickly. — He doesn't like the food? Have I already annoyed him? Gods, I knew I looked weird doing it.

Piper shook her head and took a sip of water.

— None of that. I'm just asking... — That strange look again. You noticed her eyes changed from amber to green.

—No — you murmured, running your hand along the edge of the counter, feeling a certain heaviness in your stomach as you noticed the direction the conversation was heading. You didn't want to hear it, so you changed your gaze to Piper for a more upbeat one. — But it's okay like this. It's better if things are at ease, maybe after all, we shouldn't be anything more than friends.

Piper wanted to smack you on the head, she couldn't believe how blind you were. Nevertheless, she knew she had to let things work out on their own. The brunette approached you and caressed your cheek tenderly.

—Go give this to Frank before I snatch it and devour it all.

You let out a chuckle, releasing the tension that had built up in your body.

— Stay away from my macaroni — you scolded, and grabbed the dish. At the door frame, Piper called out to you, you looked at her as she stood on tiptoe and raised her fist encouragingly.

— He's going to love it! — She shouted, and you left the cafeteria in search of Frank.

As you approached the camp area, your steps quickened along with your pulse. Every time you saw him, it felt like walking on a tightrope with lions waiting below to catch you with their sharp teeth. Being with Frank was an explosion of emotions that were held back from being too obvious, the only demonstration of those was the stupid pasta you held.

You scanned your eyes for the boy, while also wanting to close them and pretend you hadn't found him, then Piper could devour the food. Now that you thought about it, in that circumstance, everyone would win. But as soon as you turned towards the Field of Mars, you saw him, and before you could run away, he noticed you too.

You mocked yourself.

Your legs began to weaken, but it wasn't a problem because Frank was already heading towards you with that charming smile that melted you like honey. You remembered a pickup line that would have been very good if only you weren't so bad with words.

—Uber Eats? — He teased mockingly. This time, he was in armor and his cape. "What a damned gem," you thought.

— I think you know it — you tried to respond in the same tone, but a stutter escaped your lips. The faster you delivered it, the better.

Frank's face changed completely, clearly noticing something in your attitude that afternoon. You extended the food, and he received it, momentarily touching your hands. The sensation made you shiver, but you controlled that feeling.

— Good luck, I'll see you later.

He grabbed your shoulder before you could turn away. His brown eyes remained open, filled with motivation.

— You give me this, but you never stay.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to understand both the words and the change in attitude. Frank let go of you and cleared his throat.

— What I mean is that I always end up with something you've cooked for me — he reaffirmed his grip on the dish and looked at it carefully before returning his eyes to yours, his mind trying to choose the right words, hoping not to ruin everything.— But I never get to share it with you. If we could, it would make me happy.

His cheeks turned pink, and you wanted to rub your eyes to make sure of what you were experiencing, but as soon as you considered the possibility, a wave of insecurity washed over your chest.

— I have to... go back to the cafeteria — you took a step back, and he grabbed your arm again. Frank was tired of letting you go and promised himself he wouldn't let it happen this time.

— You can't. You have a matter to discuss with the praetor.

That sentence surprised you as much as it did him.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, and the way Frank held that determined appearance made it impossible for you not to draw a smile. Although you weren't sure if it was out of nerves or because of how funny the situation seemed, maybe both.

— Oh, really? — You challenged. If he didn't let go willingly, maybe throwing him a bad flirtatious line would make him give up, although you weren't sure why you would want to waste something like that.

— Yes. Let's go or the conversation will go cold — he said, taking your hand and ignoring your desire to ruin the moment.

He dragged you to the common dining hall. At that hour it would be occupied only by the two of you.

Frank was a son of Mars. He was good at conspiring strategies against the enemy, and for some time now, he had decided that you were the enemy in this story. Approaching halfway, leaving him out of the game, now he wouldn't allow it, and finally, he could make his next move to you.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#frank zhang #frank zhang x y/n #frank zhang x reader #frank zhang x you #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #pjo #percy jackson

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kiwisbell · 6 months

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Las Mañanas || Chapter 8 (conclusion) [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, so much fluff, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, unprotected piv (you should get it at this point), oral sex (m and f receiving), anal play, car sex, this shit is sappy as fuck okay, gimme a break, married bliss, face-fucking, lingerie, reader is #1 javi supporter forever, fingering, descriptions of bombing, blood and injury, anxiety, fear, extremely protective!javi, feral!javi, pregnancy, happy ending (obvi who do you think you're working with)

word count: ~ 11.4k (as a treat bc it's over)

a/n: we've reached the end!! thank you all so much for your patience as i've worked on cross-posting this fic. your support is unreal and i love all of you so very dearly xoxo

chapter eight: siempre

It’s noon. The clock is grating in his ears, and he's tempted to take out the batteries. The paperwork is tall as his head, and it's going to be a late night. There are a number of things he would rather be doing. A person he'd rather be seeing.

Chris Feistl pokes his head in the doorway. "Got a lady here to see you, boss."

Javier already sees his girl just outside the door, bent over Cindy's desk, chatting away. Well, he can mostly just see her ass—it's facing him, for God's sake. He admires it for a moment, then turns back to his work without looking at Feistl. "The lady's my wife. Show some respect."

He's busting his balls (for the most part), but Feistl ducks his head out. "Got it, sir."

When she gets to the door, she's all smiles. "Hi, handsome."

Javier gets up, twists all the blinds in his office closed, and pulls her into a kiss. "Hey, baby," he mumbles, dragging his mouth along her jaw. "You look beautiful."

She's wearing a pale blue sweater and a floral-patterned skirt that swishes around her thighs, and her sneakers are blinding white. It's springtime in Bogotá.

Her soft gasp melts his bones, sucks the tension in his shoulders away. "They'll think you're trying to fuck me, Javi," she whispers, but she doesn't sound like she cares all that much.

"Don't care." He smiles into her cheek when she giggles, ticklish from his breath. "Maybe I am."

She laughs again, cupping his face and turning it toward her. "How about lunch first?" she suggests. "That way, you can have me for dessert."

He shakes his head and pulls her in again just so he can cover her face with kisses. "I fucking love you."

She digs around in her purse and brings out a plastic container. He's hit with the smell of empanadas, and suddenly he remembers he didn't eat breakfast. "C'mon," he says, picking her up around the waist and setting her down on his desk. She crosses her legs and hands him the bag, grabbing him one last time to kiss him on the lips. He watches her skirt slip up her thigh and rests his hand there, where her hip meets her leg. He rubs small circles with his thumb over her soft skin and toys with the waistband of her panties. He won't fuck her here, not really. Too much risk of someone walking in, and nobody sees her naked but him. Still, it calms him to touch her.

"You've got nosy employees," she says. "Cindy's the only one who hasn't asked me about the nature of my relationship with the boss."

His jaw ticks. "Pendejos."

"Hey, it's okay." He fingers trail up his arm. Her smile is coy, but he knows exactly what that look means. "I like them knowing it's me you come home to."

Javier brushes a knuckle across her chin. "Fuckin' right, baby," he says, leaning in and nipping at her lip. She chases his mouth like she's starving. "All yours. Todo tuyo."

She reaches around and pinches his ass. "And you're not my boss."

Javier nods vehemently, already kissing her on the lips. "Yes, ma'am."

"Eat, honey." She pulls away but he keeps leaning in, cradling the back of her head with the hand that isn't squeezing the flesh of her thigh. She laughs into his mouth at his eagerness. "You gotta eat, Javi."

"Okay. Okay." He stops kissing her and squeezes her hip. "Okay."

"Insaciable," she whispers.

“How's the new desk?” he asks her, settling in with his lunch. “Bigger than mine?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She reaches across his desk to pour some coffee from his Thermos into his corny World’s Best Husband mug. She takes a sip and then offers him one. He drinks. “I’ve got a corner spot.”

He frowns. “They put you in the corner?”

She looks at him fondly. “It's got a window, my love. It's perfectly fine.”

When they returned to Colombia, she began to poke around for new jobs. I don't want to smell like coffee all day, she said with a pout. And Jorge called the other day—he’s retiring. The café will go to his son.

You aren't worried about the money, are you, baby? he asked her.

Do I need to be?

He shook his head vehemently. No.

Then I’m not worried about the money. She grinned into his mouth when she kissed him. I’ll still make you coffee.

She found a position at the Universidad Nacional de Colombia as a counsellor’s receptionist. It's a starting position, but given experience in her teenage and college years as a peer mentor, lifeguard, tutor, and babysitter (among other things) helped her secure the job with ease. Besides, everyone she meets falls in love with her.

“Corner desk,” he grunts. “You're only scheduling all his appointments for him and fielding all his calls.”

She lightly shoves his chest. “Play nice. He’s a good boss.” Her fingers play along his tie. “Are you a good boss, Agent Peña?”

“Mmm. Better than fuckin’ Alberto.” He watches her fondle the tie around his neck, slipping her fingers behind a button of his shirt to feel his warm skin before they retreat again.

“And if you were my boss?”

Her eyes are wide and innocent when they lift up to meet his, and blood rushes to his cock at the game she's just begun. After seven years together, he knows her tricks, but she’s the best at getting under his skin, clawing at his brain with her dainty fingernails and plucking exactly the right strings. She knows he likes how it feels to put her beneath him and take control. To lose himself in her body because it's too damn sweet, too soft, and he wants to keep her safe from the world that's burned her.

“If I were your boss,” he says, watching his fingers trace mindless patterns on her bare thigh, “you'd get the biggest desk. You'd get a personal coffee machine. Four windows. Secretaries.” He begins to kiss her, everywhere but her mouth, just following the path his mouth wants to explore. He whispers his promises into her cheek, her jaw, the spot below her ear, her throat. She smells like linen and jasmine and fresh air. “As many breaks as you want. Paid vacation.” He grins against her throat. “Paid maternity.”

She clicks her tongue, but her pupils are swelling, engulfing her irises. “Special treatment,” she scolds. “They'd think I was doing the boss favours.”

“Eres especial,” he says into her ear, bringing her lobe briefly between his teeth. She shudders. “Why shouldn't I give my best employee the best treatment? Hmm?”

She hooks her thumbs into his belt loops and tugs him closer, beaming up at him. “I can guess how I’d thank you.”

“Yeah?” He squeezes her thigh, skates his palm up her side until he can reach around her back and press it flat against her shoulder blades, keeping her close. “Dime.”

“Empanadas, for a start.” Her fingers trail back up his torso, and he feels himself shivering beneath their travels. She slides them underneath his unbuttoned jacket and feels the strong muscles of his pecs, the soft plushness of his stomach, the body she loves so much she'd worship it like a deity. “Then, I’d get on my knees,” she says, sliding a button out of its hole and salivating at the sight of the trail of hair that leads down to the cock she wants so badly. His breathing shifts when she pops out another button and untucks his shirt to grant herself full access. He has to blink away the blindness when she slips her hands under his pants and her eyes spark with amusement. “No underwear, even at work,” she says. “Malo.”

“Never know when you'll need me,” he says.

“So… considerate… my love.” She plants kisses down the line of his jaw as she takes hold of his cock. He boxes her in on both sides, planting his hands on the desk to steady himself.

“Mierda. Baby, someone could walk in.” As much as he craves her hand around his cock, he doesn't want to deal with the fallout of his inferiors catching their boss in the middle of a handjob.

She pouts, indulging herself with one drawn-out stroke up and down his length. He pulls her toward him by the back of her head and kisses her deeply. “I’ll give it to you later,” he whispers. “I promise.”

She tucks him, hard and aching, back into his pants. Her breaths are a little unsteady, her eyes blackened with lust, but at least they don't look like they went through with it. “You better,” she says, nipping his bottom lip.

They part ways after approximately ten minutes of stalling: one kissing the other, then the other way around, then one remembering to tell the other something they'd spontaneously remembered. Te amo, they tell one another at last, untangling their hands.

He can tell Feistl, Van Ness, and the others in the bullpen are fighting themselves not to watch her too closely on her way out, too afraid of letting curiosity win at the expense of their asshole boss’s wrath.

Javier locks himself in his office for the rest of the day and tries to bury himself in his paperwork so he can tamper his erection. But the second he gets into his car—a shiny black Chevy that makes him miss his beaten truck—and begins to anticipate coming home to her, he has to drive home squeezing his length to relieve the insistent pressure against his pants.

She waits patiently on the bed, flipping through a magazine with her ass up and her legs kicking. She's wearing nothing but a shift of blue lace and panties, and she's shaved, bathed, and giddy with excitement as her husband turns the doorknob to their new apartment.

The DEA gave him a bigger place with his promotion. It's spacious, clean, and it was heartless before she brought all their possessions back inside and spent their first night back breaking in the kitchen. Being back in Bogotá is familiar, visiting an old friend, but it carries everything they longed to leave behind the first time they returned home. The long nights, the dead ends, the never-quiet nights. Covering her with his body when gunshots sound outside, even though they can't reach their haven. The screams and shouts and peeking around corners, running across rooftops. Late at night, when they're through with dinner and sex and showering, he's laid on her chest and told her how he wants things to be different. He’ll do things by the books. He won't let things get out of hand the way they did with Los Pepes. He won't let the job kill him.

He says her name so slowly, so darkly, that it's like he's never tasted the sounds on his tongue before. It's like he's rolling the name around his tongue to savour it, a rich treat, something to wrap around his heart. She turns her head and says sweetly: “Hi, honey. You’re home.”

Javier shucks off his jacket so fast she hears a rip and stalks toward the bed. She locks her ankles together and pretends like she needs a stretch, arching her back and lifting herself up onto her elbows. His hungry eyes, black in the dim light, are fixed on her ass as the shift slips to the side and reveals the flimsy thing that exposes damn near everything. “What the fuck,” he says, “did I do to deserve this?”

She hums like she's pondering it. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

He says nothing, only grabs her hips roughly, suddenly, making her yelp as he forces her onto her knees, her back arched deliciously for him. He sinks his teeth into one of her cheeks, and her whine crescendos to a moan when he yanks her panties down her thighs and fixes his mouth to her cunt.

“Oh, Javi!” she squeals. Her thighs tremble when he latches his lips around her clit and sucks, his mouth hot and wet. She grasps for a purchase on the bedsheets, but he's relentless, the obscenity of the noises he urges out of her mouth and the squelching of his expert motions against her drenched cunt echo in their home as he feasts on her as if she's water in the desert. His tongue breaches her entrance at the same time he smacks her ass. She lurches forward, moaning long and low, but he grabs her hips and keeps her attached to his mouth.

He licks her clit with aching meticulousness, pressure, wet, hot, and he groans into her pussy with such desperation it's like he's frustrated that he can't sink himself into her completely. She loses all control of her arms and her cheek pushes into the mattress. It's so good. It's too good, so perfect, she can't—

Oh.

Fuck.

He's moving, abandoning her clit, but he doesn't stop at her entrance. His mouth carves a path upward until she feels a push, a pressure at her other hole. She gasps out a wet, “Javi, oh my—,” but his tongue indulges, giving in, licking at her asshole until all she can do is moan, burying her face in the mattress.

He grunts, slapping the side of her thigh. “Louder,” he demands. “Can’t hear you.”

She chokes on her groan this time when he dives back in, this time teasing two fingers at the entrance to her cunt and pushing inside. She's so wet they give into him easily, and the teasing at her tight hole makes her sob with pleasure. She tries to string words together, but they break and crumble. “Fuck, fuck, oh, shit… Jav… unhhh, I can’t… Fuck!”

He just keeps her fixed to him until she breaks, freezing around his fingers and coming so hard she pushes them out with a burst of wetness. He kneads and soothes her red ass while she comes down, panting hard against the mattress, but he doesn't quite relent from tasting her asshole, licking gently until she can't hold herself up anymore.

Javi kisses the welt on her cheek and sits back on his haunches, hauling her up against him “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans into her throat, holding her tightly, the fabric of her slip bunching under his fingers. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m married to you.”

She leans her head on his shoulder and beams drunkenly at him. “Wanted tonight to be for you,” she says, her words slurring together.

“That was for me,” he says, splaying his fingers over her rib cage. He nips at her earlobe. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

“Javi,” she sighs, reaching up to keep his mouth latched to her throat.

“Hmm.” He sucks at her pulse until he knows it will bruise.

“Stand up, please,” she says sweetly. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

His hand, keeping her steady against his front, tightens around her waist. “Fuck,” he rasps into her hair. “Get on your knees, baby.”

They scramble into position. Javier begins to shed his shirt and pants, but she’s looking up at him, eyes wide, and he realises she wants to do it for him. “Go on, bonita,” he urges.

She grins, standing up on her toes and kissing his jaw to his ear, sucking on the lobe while her fingers make slow work of the buttons on his shirt. He grunts, grasping her hips and fisting at the feeble slip covering her torso. “Want this… fuck, want this fucking off,” he complains, grumpier with each second he can’t feel her soft body curve up against him.

“But I wore it for you,” she says, teasing, migrating to the shell of his ear then the spot beneath. He’s hard, leaking, twitching in his pants, so desperate to feel her underneath this pretty silk that he’s willing to tear the fucking thing into shreds.

Her fingers are deft as they work out each button, and her mouth against him makes his skin buzz, his brain condensing with a thick fog that only parts for her: her body, her touch, her laughter, like bells, as she guides his hands around her back to the clasp that keeps the little slip secure.

She slides his shirt off as he works the clasp open, slipping the blue fabric off her shoulders and exposing her to him. He’s happier already, his hands finding her hips and pressing her up against him, thumbs caressing her ribs to make her shiver while she unbuttons his pants.

She begins to kiss her way down his chest, lavishing him with such fond attention, such reverence and care, as her lips find every mark on his body. Scars and birthmarks and freckles—she kisses each one, licks others, and hums happily all the way down, adorning his body with the smell and the imprint of her. He tips his head forward to watch her sink to her knees, his hands regretfully parting with her hips and instead finding her head. He cradles it gently as she continues to worship him, enjoying the way his breathing grows staggered, methodical, like he’s trying to remember how to do it.

She slips the button out on his pants and brings them slowly down his thighs, his cock tapping against his stomach. She licks her lips, and he takes himself in hand.

“You want it, baby?”

She nods, hands steadying themselves on his strong thighs. “Please.”

“Open,” he says gruffly. She does, parting her lips for him and squeezing her thighs together so she won’t give into the urge to touch herself. He slaps the head of his cock against her tongue, once, twice, three times, and she mewls like a whore. He grits his teeth and rests the heavy weight of him on her tongue. Like a good girl, she does nothing until he makes the command, but she looks so fucking happy, wide-eyed and teary just from tasting him, that he doesn’t have the heart to tease her.

He’s through with teasing himself, too. “You want me to fuck your mouth, bonita?” Again, she nods, humming against his cock and making it twitch on her tongue. He threads his fingers through her hair and holds her where he wants her. “Tap me twice if you need me to stop.”

She just keeps looking up at him with those eyes, so full of trust and admiration, and he manoeuvres her head closer to him, his cock sliding through the hot, slick walls of her mouth until he feels the head pressing up against her throat. She swallows around him, breathing tediously through her nose, and he goes blind with the fucking tightness of her, how good it feels to have her on her knees for him, here only to please him.

“That’s fucking it, baby.” He pulls out until he’s resting the head on her tongue again, but this time it slips out greedily to lap at the precum dribbling from the slit. “Fuck. Be fucking good. ¿Claro?”

She whimpers, and it’s the sound she makes when she wants him to give in—to use her the way he wants, to put his pleasure in her hands. To take. Javier’s nostrils flare when he takes her down all the way until she’s trying not to gag on him, her nose pressed up against the hairs at the base of his cock. She moans at the same time he does, and then he really begins to move.

She wants him to fuck her throat; so he fucks her throat. His hands keep her head in place while his cock follows the path of her mouth, sliding along her tongue as she sucks him in deeper with the way she swallows and constricts. She’s a fucking pro, malleable and eager in his hands, keeping herself aloft and still so she can’t hurt him as he fucks her throat with little care for slowing down or keeping it gentle. She doesn’t want him to. And he can’t bring himself to care, not when she feels so good, not when his wife is on her knees and sucking the life out of him like his own personal pornstar. “Fuckin’—fuckin’ take it,” he says between ragged breaths, his hips stuttering at the first indication that he’s close. “You gonna swallow it?”

She hums, fingernails scratching his thighs in her eagerness to express the yes without letting him fall from her mouth. In case he doesn’t get the message, she reaches for him with both hands as he continues to thrust into her mouth and gently squeezes his balls.

He steadies himself by slapping a hand against the bedpost. “Jesus. Fucking hell. Gonna—gonna fucking come.” She’s so wet she can feel it dripping down her thighs, and the urge to touch herself is unbearable when he pulls out with a choked groan, jerking himself twice before he’s placing the head of his cock on her tongue and watching all of his cum spill into her mouth.

She’s fascinated and oh-so turned on by the way he twitches, his cock bobbing and pulsing as she takes all of his spend and happily laps the rest of it up until he can’t produce another drop. For good measure, she slips him back into her mouth and pulls off with an obscene pop, swallowing him all down.

Javier isn’t sure if he’s dreaming when he finally pulls her to her feet, but the way she gently guides him to the bed to let him sit, climbing onto his lap, makes him so desperate for it to be real.

She sighs into the crook of his neck. Her voice is raspy and used from his assault against her throat, but she doesn’t seem whatsoever displeased. “I love you,” she tells him, scratching her fingernails at the nape of his neck. He purrs at the feeling, letting himself fall back until they hit the mattress.

He kisses her temple. “I love you. You and your smart fucking mouth, you and that little tease of a dress.”

She snorts. “You loved that little tease of a dress so much you nearly tore it in two.”

“Mmm, love what's underneath more.” He rolls them over until he's on top of her and flicks his tongue over her nipple. She giggles, threading her fingers through his hair.

“That mean you'll buy me a new one?”

“I’ll buy you”—he bites her nipple and lifts his hand to squeeze her other breast—“whatever the fuck you want.” He nudges her cheek with his nose. “That was a nice surprise, baby. Mi hermosa esposa es tan buena conmigo.”

She hooks her foot under his knee and uses the leverage to roll him onto his back again. She fondly traces the shape of his ribs, making him shudder beneath her. “I want you to know,” she says, “you're going to do so well. You're gonna shove it in Stechner’s face, mi amor. He thinks you're gonna drown, that you're gonna lose to all that red tape. But you won't.” Her eyes meet his, and there's a vacuum in the room. It punches all the breath from his lungs. It sucks all the air away until his hands on her body are all that can give him oxygen. He grips her hard, arms strong around her waist, and she cups his face in her reverent hands. She loves him. And he can feel it. “You are going to win, Javier. Ganaras. Eres un buen hombre (You will win. You are a good man). My husband doesn't lose to assholes who want to see him stumble.” Her mouth sets a hard edge. “¿Claro?”

Javier makes sure she feels every press of his fingertips into her back as he makes his way up to her shoulders, across her collarbones, and tucks her hair behind her ears, cradling her beautiful face above him. “Nobody”—he shakes her head around a little, gently, just to get the message into her brain—“has believed in me the way you do. No way I’m going to fucking let you down.”

A bright smile crinkles the corners of her eyes. “The only way you could ever let me down,” she tells him, “is if you're putting me on my knees.”

“Fuckin’ fox,” he mutters, shaking his head as he leans in and presses a long kiss to her forehead. He lets his mouth linger there for a while, imagining he can hear the patter of their heartbeats, synchronised.

They've barely been back in Colombia a month, and Bill Stechner is already making Javier’s life a living hell. But the way his wife is storming around the kitchen and clanging pots and pans like she's on a personal goddamn war path, you'd think Stechner had slapped her mother and kicked her dog.

“Exploiting you,” she hisses, mostly to herself by now since she's talking so fast and barely looking at him. “That snake… He’s exploiting you just so some asshole senators will throw money at their little puppet show. Does he even know… Do they… The fucking nerve…” She’s visibly shaking with rage when she begins to chop onions on the cutting board, and the tears that well in her eyes are not from the vegetable.

To her credit, she's a fantastic cook, and Javier trusts her with a knife. He doesn't typically like to interrupt her furious rants, especially not when she's wielding a weapon.

But he realises he should have intervened when she picked up that knife. Because in all her angry trembling, the knife has slipped and cut her palm on its way to the floor.

“Fuck!” she cries out.

“Shit.” He rushes around the counter and puts the knife safely aside before he’s at her side. It makes him wince to see his wife squeezing tears of pain out of her eyes, to see the blood dripping from her closed palm. “Open your hand. We gotta wash this, baby.”

Still shaking, she does, a sigh leaving her mouth in a tremor. “Slipped. That was stupid. ‘M sorry, Jav.”

He shakes his head, guiding her to the kitchen. “No sorries,” he says, turning on the faucet. “Looks like you made a blood sacrifice, baby. Tryin’ to put Stechner under?”

She scoffs, sticking her palm under the water. “A lady never bleeds and tells.”

They're silent while the blood turns the rush of water beneath her hand red. Outside, the birds chirp, the sun shines, and the winds rustles the trees outside.

“He told me something,” says Javier, frowning at the cut on her palm. “Stechner. I was so fuckin’ mad finding out all the bodies in that jungle were for show, and he just told me that if anyone takes something like that as personally as I did, they're in the wrong line of work.” He grinds his teeth. “He should be right. But fuck, I don't want to be distant. I want it to feel shitty. Is that batshit crazy?”

She turns off the faucet and hands him a bandage from the first aid kit beneath the sink. She knows he likes to have something to do with his hands when he isn't smoking. He begins to tear it open. “Javier,” she says, “you aren't batshit. You've dedicated over ten years of your life to fighting these people, the things they do. Of course you're going to take it personally. I'd be scared to look at a man who sees the things you have and shrugs it off. As for wanting it to feel shitty… I hate to see you punishing yourself for things you can't control, mi amor, but I understand. I just want to be able to help you get yourself back out when you go deep inside that head of yours.” She taps his temple with her good hand, dropping it to squeeze his shoulder.

“I can't pretend to understand everything. But when I was with Nicolás, I would loathe myself for being so… idle. He'd go off and fuck other women, break fingers if someone so much as cheated him at poker, and, well, he turned me into a cash source. I didn't do anything to stop him because I thought he was it for me. But this war…” She searches his eyes and tries to shove her words into him. “This isn't it for you, Javi.

“You're not a puppet,” she says fiercely, still sniffling as he presses the bandage into her palm. “You're a real hero.”

“Shhh.” He presses his mouth to her temple, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment. Hero. Something about that word in his wife’s mouth doesn't sit right inside him. But she truly believes it. He lets her words sink into his chest, and all he gleans from them is faith. Her faith in him and the work he does, her faith that he can get the job done and finally rest.

Maybe he can. Maybe, when it's over, he'll be able to let the dust settle. So far, he's spent his whole life kicking it up.

“¡Señora Peña!” calls a voice from the staff lounge across the hall. “¡Tu esposo esta en las noticias!”

She bolts to her feet and scrambles out of the counselling office. “Is he—”

Alberto Estrada’s laugh eases some of the tension in her bones. Your husband’s on the news can only ever be good or bad. “He's fine. Better than fine, from the sounds of it,” he says, indicating the headline.

She meets him in front of the television and muffles her burst of giddy laughter behind her hand. DEA arrests Gilberto Rodríguez.

A film crew has set up outside the Embassy and a reporter details the arrest with what few scraps of knowledge they have. Debajo de la escalera… se rindió… Agente Javier Peña…

“¡Vete a la mierda!” she whoops at the television. “Fuck you, Rodríguez!”

Alberto toasts his cup of coffee toward the television. “Agente Javier Peña,” he announces in his powerful voice. “Making the world a better place and fucking over the godfathers!”

Sara and Carlos, fellow counsellors, wander into the room at all the commotion. “Dios,” gasps Sara, her hand flying to the rosary at her throat. “Es cierto. Señora Peña, you better kiss your husband for me tonight.”

“And me,” chimes in Carlos, grinning at the reporter on the screen.

I’ll do more than that, she thinks.

Back in the office, a phone begins to ring. She looks around at each of her coworkers and her boss, bouncing on the balls of her feet, until Alberto booms, “Pick up the phone!”

She hurries back to her desk, teeth worrying her lip, and nearly drops the receiver in her excitement. “Consejería académica.”

“You watching the news, bonita?”

She grins, slipping into her desk chair. “Was he really under the staircase?”

She can hear the hushed tone of his voice, the distant cheers outside his office as his employees celebrate without him. “Cowering,” he confirms. “Then surrendering. Almost didn't find him.”

“But you did.” She twirls the telephone cord around her finger. “I’m so proud of you, Javier.”

“Proud enough to take the afternoon off?”

Her heart lurches with glee. “You really wanna?”

In his office, blinds drawn, lights dim, and door locked, Javier is knocked breathless at the sound of her voice: so hopeful, touched with such trust and joy. He could drown in it. Outside, the celebrations have begun early, an unspoken agreement that a win like this merits the rest of the day off. They’ll go to a bar and brag about being part of the arrest of a godfather of Cali. Javier just wants to see the smile on his girl’s face. “Yeah, baby. Wait for me. I’ll pick you up, take you somewhere nice.”

“Maybe I should be taking you somewhere nice,” she purrs, “being the wife of the Javier Peña and all.”

Damn it if that doesn’t sound like a tempting idea, with the drop in her voice and the significant interest in his jeans. “I gotta get out of here, honey,” he grumbles. “Thought Cindy was going to drop down and start polishing my shoes.”

She hums. “I don’t think I like the sound of that. Should be me polishing your shoes.”

Javier chuckles. “Get that pretty ass out of your corner desk and wait outside for me.”

She practically jumps to gather her things. Professor Estrada grants her the afternoon off. She bursts out the front doors of the campus community centre and bounds toward the car whose passenger door opens for her. Javier scoops her up in his arms and kisses her deeply. He slips his sunglasses onto the top of her head.

“Get in the car,” he says, pecking her nose. “We’re going out.”

Going out has come to mean a very different thing to Javier Peña since his face started getting plastered all over the news.

He would have taken her dancing, but too many people are out celebrating the monumental arrest, and too many people will recognise him for it. He doesn’t want to shimmer under a spotlight, and he especially doesn’t want any narcos out on a revenge kick spotting his wife and deciding she makes a pretty target.

So, he drives them out to the countryside, where the lights don’t choke the life out of the stars, parks in a flat field that probably belongs to somebody, and he cracks the trunk of his car. They sit back there and share a box of caramel-filled chocolates he swiped from the Embassy’s flurry of celebrations. It’s more than enough to just be here, his legs entangled with hers, breathing in tandem in the back of his car beneath the blanket of stars.

“You’d think I saved the fuckin’ president,” he says.

“Maybe you did.” Her eyes slide from the horizon to him, drinking in the sight of his face under moonlight. His pouting lips, the moustache that always tickles her skin, the shining, tanned skin visible behind the half-buttoned polo. Sometimes, it feels surreal. She’s looking at a painting, a statue, a work of art that is anything but real or touchable. And then she’ll slide her hands beneath the collar of that shirt and feel the ineffable realness of his strong body, his warm freckled skin, and she’ll know she’s somehow slipped into the painting with him. She’s become a sculpture meant to encircle the marble of him.

He rubs his thumb in circles over her ankle bone. She’s discarded her shoes, her sweater, all but her dress. His brow lifts at the way she watches him, devours him. “Enlighten me, bonita.”

“Maybe, five years from now, Gilberto Rodríguez wants to make a statement. Maybe he makes an attempt on the president, who maybe supports the war on drugs. Maybe the attempt works.” She shrugs. “Maybe, in making that arrest, you avoided all that.”

Thinking in possibilities has never been the most effective course of action among Javier and his colleagues. But coming from her mouth, it makes sense. It sounds beautiful. The faint light of the moon casts her skin in silver. He squeezes her ankle.

“Remember that story you told me,” she muses, “about when you were sixteen, and you broke your ankle sneaking out to see a girl?”

He huffs. “Not my proudest moment for you to remember, baby.”

She laughs, nudging his thigh with her foot. “It’s just… When you told me that story, I saw this look in your eyes. It’s the same thing that happens when you smile—really smile. Like a spark of life. I used to be afraid of it sometimes, when I didn’t know you the way I do now. I thought there were parts of you I would be better off not knowing. But I think it’s my favourite part about you.” She shuffles closer, and her fingertips brush the whiskers on his jaw, the reminders of the late nights he’s reacquainted himself with since his return. “I love seeing you filled with life,” she says softly.

He wraps his arms around her waist and feels the frown lifting the pressure from his brows as her fingers migrate there, smoothing the imprints of memories there. He leans into her touch as she makes a canvas of him, softening the tension in his face with her gentle hands. When she finally slots her mouth over his in a featherlight kiss, he keeps his eyes open for a moment, trying to drink—no, drown—in the dizzying reality of her. Her confession wraps around his heart until it bursts with the pressure. He can’t hold enough of her. He can’t grasp at enough of her skin, keep enough of her body in his hands before he feels dissatisfied. His entire body buzzes for her. He doesn’t want to simply press her to him. He wants to feel how it feels to live two lives, to feel two loves.

He is grappling for a purchase on the moonlight that coats her skin in stardust.

Her lips are sweet and salty with caramel and chocolate. He tastes it on her tongue when he cups her face and encourages her mouth to open so he can consume a bit more of her. Her sigh rattles through him until it's inside his very bones. Her arms wrap around his neck, bringing him closer. He takes a handful of her ass to shift her up onto his lap.

For a moment, they just look at each other. Her chest heaves. Her eyes shimmer. He grins up at her and she scans each line of his face, pasting it on her eyelids.

Kissing her is like starving, pulling her nearer with every gasp they share, biting and sucking and tangling his tongue with hers until their bodies are too close to let a sheet of paper slip between them.

Kissing her is feasting, indulging, refusing to deny the pleasure of it. A hand at her back, another at her jaw, wishing he had fifteen more hands, a hundred more years.

Javier leaves her mouth and carves a path along her jaw, finding the spot beneath her lobe that makes her purr against him. She tilts her head to give him better access, and her throat is lit with a shaft of moonlight. He sucks on her soft skin, nibbling her lobe and sliding his palm up her back, lodging it in each groove of her spine. His other hand slides around to her front, brushing his fingers over her hard nipples and enjoying the way she begins to writhe in his lap. Toying with the straps of her dress, he licks at the groove of her throat until he's ready to leave a bruising, sucking kiss there. He wants her to fall apart under him, with only his touch, his mouth. He wants to salvage the pieces and tuck them between his ribs. He wants to breathe her.

“Javi,” she whispers, “please. I want you inside me.”

He nuzzles his nose in the hollow of her throat as he slides the straps of her dress down her shoulders until it pools around her hips. He nips at her collarbone and splays his hand over her rib cage, his fingers brushing the swell of her breast. The air is warm, but there's a slight breeze, and it ruffles her hair, tightens her nipples. She's a vision above him, a spectre one sees in a dream.

He brings her down for another kiss, but this time, he wants to imprint his mouth on hers forever. He consumes her, sliding his tongue against hers, sucking and biting and slipping his fingers from her heaving ribs down to her panties. He teases the hem before he delves farther down and finds her clit. The mere pressure of two fingers pressing up against it makes her cry out, grasping his shoulders. “Javi…”

“You're so wet.” He nudges his nose against her cheek, urging her to turn toward him, to look at him. Her pupils have blown wide, her breaths shuddering as she gently rocks her hips against his fingers. “Easy, baby.”

Let me take care of you.

As though she hears it in the way he circles her clit, she nods, resting her forehead against his. He slides two fingers through her slick and pushes them inside her. She gasps wetly, incapable of forming a word that doesn't sound like his name. The palm of his hand pressing hard against her needy clit, he works her open, right here in his lap, swallowing every gasp that wrenches from her throat when he cradles the back of her head and puts his mouth on hers.

He knows she's close by the way she pulses around his fingers, rocking her hips into his hand. He curls his fingers against the spongy spot inside her and pulls them away abruptly.

She pouts, unaccustomed to her husband refusing to indulge her. Her eyes are still glassy, her mind catching up to her mouth. “Wha… Why’d you…”

“Spoiled,” he grunts, biting her jaw. “You wanna come, baby?”

“Javi,” she coos, placing sloppy kisses down his throat, trying to tempt him into letting her come. His pretty little siren. It's fucking working, the way she grabs at him and grinds her hips against his hard cock.

“You wanna come?” he bites out, grabbing her hips in a bruising hold that halts her movements. “Take out my cock and ride it. Be good and I’ll fill you up.”

That works. Her eyes are doused in black, her hands scrambling to unbutton his jeans. “So tight,” she grumbles. “These fuckin' things… Need them off, honey.”

Javier chuckles, helping her by lifting his hips so she can take off his jeans. Her mouth waters at the sight of his cock, leaking against his stomach. “Did you take a test this week?” he asks her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

She nods.

“And?” he prompts.

“Negative,” she breathes.

His hands trace the curves of her sides. “Wanna change that?”

Another nod, frantic. She reaches between them and takes his cock in her hand, slotting it at her entrance and fixing her eyes on his.

“I love you,” she says, cupping his cheek. “I want all of you. Soy todo tuyo.”

In a swift and sudden movement, he lurches forward with his whole arm bracketing her back and sinks her onto his length. She moans, dropping her head onto his shoulder. He gently pulls her head back, exposing her throat for him to lick. Her eyes are drooping in her daze, the head of him nestled at her womb. He slowly grinds deep, and her lashes flutter. “Told you, bebita,” he says. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

She gives an experimental roll of her hips and feels him so deep, so thick and heavy in her belly that she shivers. “S’good,” she slurs. “Fuck, honey, it's so good. So big. Fuck me, please, please…”

He lets her take what she wants from him even as he grits his teeth against her throat from the achingly slow drag of her walls around his length. “Fuck,” he huffs into her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her some more. “Feel me? You fuckin’ feel it?”

She arches her back like a cat stretching out in a sunspot. “So deep,” she gasps, her thighs trembling.

He swells with pride at the same time his cock twitches inside her. The hand not secured around her back shifts to her lower belly, and he swipes his thumb over her clit. Her shudder wreaks havoc on her entire body. “You're fucking perfect,” he grunts. “Hear me? Fucking perfect and all mine.”

She laughs breathlessly, addicted to the press of his cock against the spot inside her that wrecks her. “Is this what you needed? To fuck your wife in the middle of someone's field? Get away from the stuffy politics and just—ohhh, fuck—just fill me up with your big cock?”

Whatever blood remaining in his body floods his cock. He's mindless, growling, primal at the taste and smell and feel of her wrapped up in him. Her words make him pull her ever closer.

“Just needed you, baby.” He kisses her deeply. “The rest is a goddamn bonus.”

“Such a gentleman,” she says, her voice pitching down into a moan when he continues to torture her clit. “Should've let me come if you wanted me so badly.”

He lifts a brow, bucking his hips up against hers. “That so?”

She swallows thickly. “Spoiled, remember?”

Javier grins, sending she's getting close to her peak. “Want to come?”

“You know the fucking answer to that,” she whines.

Two of his fingers find the tight seal of her cunt where he disappears inside her, and he pushes inside. She cries out, “Oh!” and Javier shushes her with that cocky fucking grin.

“You can take it, baby,” he says, circling her clit to help her relax, help her take the stretch. She feels every groove, every knuckle, every sweet, slow, powerful pounding of his cock and his fingers in her soaked pussy. “That's it.” Javier kisses her from her lips to her jaw. “Thaaat’s it.”

She stiffens when her climax comes, freezing on his cock and clenching impossibly tight around his cock and fingers, choking the fucking life from him. He captures her melting cry in his mouth and fucks her thoroughly, pushing as deep as he can possibly go before he comes with a groan.

She's locked in position on his cock and he won't let her go. She wiggles her hips to take more of him as he spurts his hot cum inside her. Her eyes fall to where she's sat on him, watching it leak out of her and bead in the hairs at the base of his cock. She begins to giggle, drunk as always on the feel of him, them, together. “Like a Twinkie,” she mumbles.

Javier makes a gruff noise, pulling her down with him and holding the back of her head while he kisses her. “Think that was it?” he asks into her mouth.

“If it isn't,” she replies, pulling away and smiling wickedly, “I’ll still be in love with you.”

“Muy dulce,” he laughs, gently pulling her off him. She collapses, boneless, to the floor of the trunk, and he uses a napkin to wipe the remnants of his cum from her thighs. “C’mon, baby,” he says, gently patting her ass. “We need to put food in you.”

She hums, letting him lift her out of the car. He adjusts the straps of her dress on her shoulders. “You can put anything you want in me,” she says.

Javier brushes his knuckle across her chin and clicks his tongue. “Must've fucked you good, honey. Can you walk?”

She just takes his hand and follows him to the passenger’s side. She slips into the seat and he settles into his, starting up the car. “I like your way of celebrating,” she tells him.

He threads his fingers through hers and rests them on her thigh as he drives back toward the main road. “Did they at least get my good side?”

She laughs, bringing their joined hands up to kiss each of his knuckles. “Every side is your good side, Javier. You’re the point of envy for every Hollywood star there is.”

“I could do without the sarcasm,” he says good-naturedly.

“Who said I was being sarcastic?” She shakes her head, tutting. “I’ll get it through that head of yours someday, vaquero.”

“Get what through my head?” He lifts a brow, turning onto the road.

She watches him, illuminated by the lights of the city as they drive back toward civilisation. “The things I see when I look at you,” she says softly.

Sometimes, a thing happens that seems totally senseless. It will happen suddenly, and the fallout will be swift. It will not make sense until long afterward. Out of the cataclysm, misery arises, and the dust will settle on a dimmer world.

Possibility arises, too. Hope, even. But you must sift through the tragedy and the rubble before you can find it.

The sun shines outside. It’s just after noon. She wears a blouse and a skirt, but it’s the former that makes her especially happy. Her husband bought it for her: a birthday present. Sara compliments her on it, and she happily confesses that it was a gift.

He’s good to you.

And it’s true. She sits back down at her desk and bites down on her smile to tamper it a little. She twists her rings around her finger. She cracks open the window to let in the gentle breeze.

There's a split-second of quiet, and it's the birds that make her notice.

They go silent. They usually chirp all day, singing happily out by the trees that line the paths. They're a beautiful choir, and now they’ve stopped singing. She barely registers the change.

Outside the window next to her corner desk, there's a flash of light. She sees something small, black, lumpy and streaked with colour—blue, red, yellow—placed on the front steps of the adjacent building. The president’s building.

She feels the world tip. It may just be the floor beneath her crumbling. Or it may be the force of the blast that knocks her off-kilter, sends her flying.

She's unaware of the world for a moment. But when she awakes, she's crawling, ears ringing, out from the furniture that's cracked and splintered atop her. She watches her own hand tremble, and she hears the fuzzy noise of the sirens sharpen into focus, but she feels nothing. She only thinks.

Help.

Get help.

In the next room, she hears a muffled cry for help. A booming voice, raspy with dust in the throat. She crawls toward the voice. It is all she knows.

Something rattles his blinds while he's hunting underneath his desk for a file that slipped onto the floor. He barely notices the way the objects have shifted on his desktop.

Minutes later, he hears sirens screech by.

There's rustling outside his door, and someone bursts inside. Javier doesn't bother to look up from the file.

“Busy,” he says shortly.

Whoever’s standing there wastes no time with pleasantries.

"There's been an explosion, sir." Feistl sounds shaken. "At the university.”

That gets Javier's attention.

He stands up in a rush, papers fluttering to the floor, his head swimming.

“My wife—"

"We don't know yet," says Feistl.

That doesn't fix his mood.

His mouth has gone dry. Panic sets in, his terrible vision sharpening to red. "Casualties," he manages to get out, his voice a rasp.

"Boss, I don't think—"

"How many casualties?" he demands.

He needs to know. He doesn't want to know.

Finally, Feistl meets his eye. "Three confirmed."

Javier can't stand up straight. He thinks if he lets go of his desk, he'll fall over. "They know who?"

"Police won't tell us shit," says Feistl, a bit bitterly. "Not our department."

He runs a hand over his face. He needs to put his hands around someone’s throat and squeeze until it pops. "Not our department,” he repeats under his breath, planting a finger on his desk like there's a speck of dust he needs to clean. “Not… Mierda... Los hijos de puta... It's my fucking department.” He feels his nostrils flare, an angry bull at the charge. “It’s my. Fucking. Wife.”

Van Ness stumbles into the office, breathing hard. His telephone cord is wrapped around the doorway, the device clutched to his ear like it's glued there. "One more confirmed," he says. "News just said so."

Phones are ringing non-stop in the bullpen. Narcos, they’re saying. Targeted attack. The school president killed in the attack. Attack. Javier's phone is silent. He stalks out the door, shoving past Feistl and Van Ness even as the latter tries to tell him it's no use, the place is cordoned off, he'll never get in.

"Let him go, man," he hears Feistl mutter. "It's his wife."

It's a five-minute drive to the university. Javier makes it in one and a half. He barely shuts off the engine and he's halfway out of the car, sprinting straight past the guards manning the roped-off section with his badge on display.

The damage is ghastly. The university building has a crater in it, the rubble still smoking, the green campus grey and hazy with destruction. There are police vehicles, bomb squad, and ambulances surrounding the area. The air is thick and cloying with smoke. It infests his throat, viscous as syrup. It's nothing compared to how heavy the terror settles inside him.

Javier checks every single one and feels the pit in his stomach swallow another piece of him when he can't find her.

Around the building, there's still nothing. Nothing but firemen pulling bodies, writhing pets, and unconscious people from the rubble. Nothing.

Not the flash of her eyes nor a lock of her hair. Not a thread of the connection that thrums between them. His own heart beats, but he cannot hear hers. He can't feel it. He can barely breathe.

"We got another one over here!" one of them shouts.

Javier's feet carry him to the site. He doesn't remember the journey.

Three men uncover a woman's wrist. It's delicate and bleeding, a blouse stained red.

She wore blouses. She wore one to work today.

He stumbles backward. They keep pulling, unearthing, digging. His hand finds his chest and squeezes over his shirt. He wants to claw out his heart. He's lost his girl. He's lost his wife.

His fucking light.

They find her face beneath the rubble, and Javier wants to throw up.

It's not her.

It's. Not. Her.

"¿Señor Peña?"

He whips around. A man he doesn't know is limping toward him, dressed in a black suit that's become grey from dust.

Javier doesn't have the fucking time for this. "Yeah," he says, short and clipped.

The man is middle-aged, greying, and wincing in pain when he comes to a stop. "Your wife... she found me. Pulled me out of a pile of rubble. Would've suffocated if she wasn't so quick."

Javier's breath escapes him in one punch. He barely manages to ask, "Where is she?"

The man gestures, and Javier follows. The ambulance is surrounded by civilians, some wearing shock blankets, some hacking and wheezing, some on their knees as they cry for their loved ones. All of them look... well, like they've survived a bombing.

And she's there.

She's right fucking there, handing a cup of tea to a crying woman, consoling her like she's the one in charge.

The man stops walking, rubbing his injured knee, but Javier breaks into a run.

He cries her name. He can't help it. He's sobbing like the day he was born as he reaches her, scooping her up into his arms like an idiot because God knows she may be injured.

“Mi amor.” A whisper and a prayer, a bone-deep sigh of relief. The thread between them plucks strong and true, hearts trading beats.

She holds him tightly and begins to cry, too.

"Baby, oh, God, sweetheart, mi cielo," he chokes out, rambling, not caring about making any sense. He's holding her, kissing her everywhere, her cheeks and forehead and mouth and jaw. She's alive and in his arms and she's okay. "Me asustaste. Te amo mucho, cariño. Te amo... "

"Javi," she cries, her face in his neck, her hands in his hair. "I thought I was going to die. Oh, God, I thought… I love you, I love you, I love you.”

They're both a mess, bumbling and pulling each other closer.

"Sweetheart," he says again, wanting to see her, look into her eyes and make sure it's real, "let me see you. I have to see you're okay, baby."

She reluctantly pulls away, and his chest feels so tight it could burst. Her face is streaked on one side with grey and red—her blood, he realises with a dreadful start, dripping from a wound in her temple—and he looks down only to see a horrific bruise from her hip to her mid-thigh. It's so dark it's nearly black, a splotch of darkness tainting her sweet skin. Her skirt has ripped, and his first instinct is to cover her with a blanket so nobody sees her underwear; but he notices most people are missing half their clothes, too. "Fuck," he says, placing a hand on her stomach. "You get this checked out?"

Despite all the chaos, her cheeks warm. He meets her eye and says her name sternly.

Her fingertips brush his tense jaw. "I didn't even notice it until they pulled me out, baby. My adrenaline's still going."

"Yeah, mine too," he says, leaning into her touch. "We're gonna get you to the paramedics. No more saving others."

"Model of the DEA," she says fondly, accepting his arm around her waist. She limps along with him until the middle-aged man blocks their path. Javier is so focused on getting her help that he almost raises his hackles, tells him to fuck off. He won't. He can't be a dick to disaster victims.

"Profesor," she says. "¿Estás bien? "

"¿Yo?" he says with a wry laugh. "Me salvaste la vida (You saved my life)."

Javier kisses her cheek—she isn't bleeding on her left side—and whispers, "Salvadora."

She squeezes the man's arm as they walk past. Javier finds two paramedics talking to one another by an ambulance, a shocked woman sitting in between them. "Mi esposa," he demands. "Ella nesecita ayuda (She needs help)." She gives him a look, and he mumbles, "Por favor."

One paramedic continues speaking with the woman while the other approaches his wife. She nods at him that he can inspect her. Javier doesn't let go of her waist. "It will bleed," the medic says, prodding around the gash in her temple. "Head wounds are like that. But I should be able to clean it and bandage it without any problem. You’re the lady who found Profesor Estrada?"

She nods sheepishly. The paramedic chuckles. "He taught me when I was in school," he tells her. "That was brave, what you did."

"I couldn't leave him," she says dismissively. "He always brings me coffee."

The medic shakes his head good-naturedly, applying a damp cloth to her temple while Javier holds her hair away from her face. She winces, which makes his other hand instinctively tighten around her. The cloth has turned red by the time her face is clear of blood. "We'll need to stitch this. Here's the hard part," says the medic. "Looking at your leg will hurt a lot more. You should probably lie down." He looks at Javier, but hesitantly, like he's afraid. Good. "Would you, uh, like to help her inside?" He gestures toward the ambulance.

Javier nods. He really needs a cigarette. The woman with the shock blanket has left, so Javier lifts his wife onto the ambulance platform and she limps inside, climbing up onto the gurney. She cries out, freezing in place, and Javier's blood chills at the sound. "Amor?" he says, voice strained. "What is it, baby? What's wrong?"

Her breaths are coming out heavier. "My... my side," she says, a hand flying up to the ribs on the same side as her bruise. She hisses. "Oh, shit, that hurts."

Just like that, he's panicking again. "Her side," he says frantically. "Su lado. Revisa su lado (Check her side)."

The medic looks like he'd rather do anything than lift up her shirt while her scary husband's right there, but he does his job. Her blouse is sticky with blood, but it peels away from her side, and Javier feels bile rushing up his throat.

It's a map of black bruises around her ribs. She reaches out for Javier's hand while the medic pokes around, and he grips her so tight it's like he's the one who's hurt. He's terrified. He can't do anything but hold her. He's useless. "I'm right here, baby," he says, kissing her climbing pulse. "Look at me."

She already is, but her eyes are watery. She's lying on her good side, half of her body exposed as the medic inspects the ugly bruises. "Contusions," he concludes. "From the force of the bomb and the fall. You'll need rest and minimal physical activity, but they'll get better on their own."

"What can I do?" Javier jumps in.

"Help her out around the house. Help her up and down stairs if she has trouble walking. Usually, contusions will heal in about a month."

She breathes out a laugh despite the visible pain she's in. "Just be my husband."

"I got you, cielito," he says.

"Señora," says the medic. "I need to stitch you up now."

"Sí," she replies. "Mi esposo. ¿Puede quedarse aquí? (My husband. Can he stay here?)"

"Sí, señora," he replies. The other medic hops into the ambulance and closes the doors. There's already a man in the driver's seat, so it's a tight fit back here with four of them. But they're just looking at each other.

She's shivering with the shock once her adrenaline begins to wane. Javier shrugs off his jacket so fast it rips somewhere, and places it over her like a blanket. "Mi amor," she whispers.

The other medic begins to take her blood pressure, instructing her how to keep her breathing steady even as her eyes are glazing over. Javier wants to tell the man to fuck off, but there's no point in getting angry, not when she's using his eyes to ground herself. "What do we do for dinner tonight?" she asks. "Because I didn't have any time to think about it."

“I’ll pick something up,” he says. “Gotta go back to get my car, though.”

She snorts. “Please don't tell me how fast you drove to get here. It’ll give me a hernia.”

“Quedarse quieto (Stay still),” says the medic tending to her heart rate. She mutters an apology, but Javier frowns.

“Ella está en el dolor (She’s in pain),” he snaps. “¿Quieres que te dé un puñetazo en las costillas y te diga que te quedes quieto? (Do you want me to punch you in the ribs and tell you to stay still?)”

“Gruñón,” she scolds gently. She squeezes his hand and looks apologetically at the medic. “Estás haciendo tu trabajo (You’re doing your job).”

Javier kisses her palm and keeps it pressed to his cheek. The ambulance lines up beside ten others outside the hospital. The emergency room is overflowing with patients, and Javier wants to barrel through all of them to get her into a room. But he knows he can't. She's in a hell of a lot of pain, but she's stable, and most of these survivors aren't. He knows this, but it doesn't make him any happier. His wife is hurt, and he can’t know if there's anything serious beneath her injuries.

The way her breathing staggers when she clambers out of the ambulance lifts all the animal instincts in his body. He damn near growls at the medic whose hand grazes her wounded side as she steps down onto the ground, every nerve screaming to tug her close to him and not let another body within ten yards of her. He kisses her temple and cradles her head when she’s finally upright, pressed against him in a tight hug. Now that they're under the fluorescent hospital lights, he sees the hollow cut to her cheeks, the ghastly cut on her other temple, the way her lashes flutter with the mild shock she hasn't yet shaken. Each breath she takes chips at his heart. He could have lost her today.

He doesn't let himself dwell. She sways slightly on her feet and it knocks the alarm bells around his skull. “Baby, we gotta sit you down,” he says, helping her to a chair. All around them, people covered in dust and blood moan, scream, or pray, all covered in injuries which vary in severity. Her eyes well with tears, and Javier drops to his knees in front of her. “Cielito, please don't cry,” he says softly, swiping her tears away with his thumbs. “What can I do?”

“Just…” She looks at him miserably, her lip quivering. “So much pain. They're all in so much pain.”

Bloody, beaten, and pulled from the rubble of a bombing, and she worries about everyone around her. She's better than he ever could hope to be.

“Lo sé,” he mutters, threading his fingers through hers. “They're gonna get help, just like you.”

“We all could've died, Javi. I almost…” She hiccups, and he knows the shock is gone, the rush of terror and dread flooding her body with the force of a slug to the chest. “Almost left you.”

He shakes his head, sliding his hand up and down her uninjured thigh and pressing a kiss to her knee. “You didn't, baby. You're here with me, hey? Éstas aquí. Aquí, la cosa más hermosa que he visto (the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen).”

She sniffles, tears still streaming through the remaining dust on her face. “You’ve been shot,” she says weakly.

He laughs roughly, realising it’s the first time he’s let himself do so since Feistl came rushing into his office. “You know I’ve never been shot here,” he says. He took a bullet in the leg back in Austin, and never heard the end of it from the other guys.

“Leave it to me,” she says, a smile cracking through the tear tracks on her cheeks. “One of us has to get into the accidents in this partnership.”

“That’s what I always told Murphy. Guy never listened.”

Her laugh is a bit delirious, a bit hushed, guilt prodding her for laughing in the midst of such misery. “Come up here with me,” she says softly, and he sits in the chair next to her.

She curls into him as best she can in spite of her injuries, and together, they breathe.

Sometimes, a thing happens that seems totally senseless. It will happen suddenly, and the fallout will be swift. Out of the cataclysm, misery arises.

It will not make sense until long afterward.

“Señora,” says the nurse. “Estás embarazada.”

Her hand trembles on its way to her mouth. Her fingers prod her lips, recalling the taste of blood, the blast of the bomb, the years of her life flashing in white-hot snapshots behind her eyes.

The nurse goes on some more: the last negative test must have been wrong, she's eight weeks along, there a couple things they should know before—

“¿Ésta… Ésta bien?” is all she manages to ask.

The nurse smiles reassuringly. “Sí, señora.”

She begins to sob. Javier is clutching her hand and kissing her knuckles and whispering to her that they’re all right, they're safe, we’re having a baby. Holy shit. We’re having a baby.

Javier kisses her tear-slicked cheek and nudges it with his nose. “Baby,” he says, grinning. A baby.

“A baby,” she whispers.

The nurse leaves briefly to print off her report for them to take home. Javier gingerly places his hand on his wife’s belly, imagining he can feel a heartbeat there. He's transfixed by the thought of it. It's so real. She's right here, in his arms, safe and healing and pregnant. Christ. She's pregnant. He did that.

“I did that,” he says.

She giggles. “You're a daddy, vaquero. I get to be a mom. Holy shit, I get to be a mom.”

Javier is mindful of her injuries when he gathers her into him, keeping his hand secure on her stomach. He pictures it swelling with his child, a little spot of sunshine that brings a glow to her cheeks and a waddle to her gait. His chest surges with the instinct to protect her, keep that smile snug and safe on her face, provide her and the little life inside her with everything they'll ever want.

He already knows he would kill for this child, the way he's killed for its mother.

This is how things piece together. This is the hope that arises from disaster. A hand on her belly. A whisper. Wounds that will heal. They always do.

#kiwisbell's fics #las mañanas #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

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drewharrisonwriter · 8 months

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Donor | Drabble | Feather Toy Fights

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N, Warnings: 18+, this is a drabble for my Henry Cavill fic Donor. English is not my first language. This is just light fluff lol

One evening, as you all lounged in the living room, Kal sprawled out on the floor with your cats playfully batting at a feather toy, the scene was a testament to the newfound harmony in your household. Henry chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Kal would be having a staring contest with Luna over a feather toy," he remarked, leaning back on the couch.

You laughed, playfully nudging his arm. "Hey, they're just building a bond. The cat-dog rivalry is a thing of the past now."

Henry raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Are you implying that our pets are more mature than we are?"

You shot him a mock glare, feigning offense. "Hey, now! Let's not jump to conclusions. At least we don't get into feather toy fights."

His laughter rumbled through the room, a sound that never failed to warm your heart. "True, but I'd say our late-night dance-offs are way more entertaining."

"Oh, you mean when you try to mimic my incredibly smooth dance moves while we brush our teeth?" you teased, your eyes dancing with mischief.

Henry scoffed dramatically, his hand over his heart in feigned hurt. "Smooth? My dear, my dancing is the very definition of smoothness."

Kal, seemingly intrigued by your playful banter, abandoned the feather toy and padded over to the couch, settling himself at Henry's feet. The cats minded their own business, could care less about what's transpiring.

"I think Kal wants to be the judge of that," you quipped, leaning over to scratch behind Kal's ears.

Henry chuckled, his hand reaching down to give Kal a gentle pat. "Alright, Kal, be honest – who's the better dancer?"

Kal's response was a contented sigh and a wag of his tail, as if he was diplomatically avoiding taking sides.

"Ah, the silent judge. Well, I suppose we'll have to settle this on the dance floor one day," Henry declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, a challenge in your expression. "Oh, you're on. But be warned, I've been known to bust out some impressive moves."

"Is that so?" Henry leaned in closer, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Then I'm looking forward to seeing them."

As the two of you exchanged grins, Kal wagged his tail even more enthusiastically, seemingly sensing the friendly competition in the air.

Your home was a canvas for countless moments like these – filled with laughter, playful challenges, and the undeniable bond that had formed among you, Henry, Kal, and even your mischievous cats. It was a beautiful chaos that you wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

Tag list:

@jyessaminereads @summersong69 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetandgentlecreature @kingliam2019 @leaveitbythewave @mrsevans90 @evansabove1981 @bascmve01 @shellyshellshell @iamsana @foxyjwls007 @one-sweet-gubler @henryownsme @angelcavill66

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wangxianficfinder · 9 months

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Fic Finder

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1. Hi! Can you help me look for this fic (cause its been months since the last time I read it) wherein WWX is LWJ’s husband and he is teaching in gusu wearing gusulan robes? I remember students likes wwx that one sect leader went to Cloud Recesses to insult wwx for seducing his son.

Btw, the fic includes photos of WWX wearing gusulan (white robes) (I think they got the image where Xiao Zhan was Shi Ying)

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2. Hi! Can you help me find these 2 fics. Thank you very much

A) Twitter thread fic wherein nyancheng went to book signing of his fav author zewujun. I remember after the book signing, lxc reach out his hand for handshake and when they shakehands, bolts were felt and they went into heat/rut. Apparently they are soulmates. Nyancheng was embarrassed because his ears and tails pop out due to heat. (I actually forgot lxc animal trait)

B) Modern Au where in wwx is in the airport with police and ambulance because apparently wwx plane went missing for 13 years (???). The people in the plane (including wwx) thought that they have been in the plane for few hours but outside the plane, its been years. Wwx didn’t even aged up while his family (including lwj) aged up

2B)

看客散去唯你我不忘 | the world forgets but i still remember you by prettyxianxian (T, 11k, wangxian, modern, manifest au, flashbacks, multiple POV, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, everyone lives au, insecurities, JC & WWX reconciliation, good parent YZY & JFM)

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3. Hey! I hope you guys are doing great and resting in the midst of everything in life and updating this blog as well. Unfortunately, I fear I'm here to add to your burdens 😅

So I was looking for this fic. I remember it being set in the Canon era where Wei Wuxian is just extremely intelligent, and he goes on this whole tirade about how he came to the conclusion concerning the waterborne abyss witht the use of talismanic theory in the library while Lan Wangji makes the charcoal for him to write and at the end Wangji is just so fascinated by Wuxian while the latter is like, "sorry for unloading that whole thing on you" kind of vibe.

I can't seem to remember what the name is. I was looking for it in my history, and it's just so difficult when it's just that kne scene you remember. Do you suppose you could help my misery. Thank you in advance. @poetic-writes

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 663k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

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4. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where wwx is a musician in university living in this huge dorm. He sometimes hears beautiful piano music (lwj) coming from somewhere in the building but he doesn't know where. They start to play music together and don't know each other's identities. They don't find out each other's identities until graduation or something. @its0nnetflix

FOUND? sounds like through a window softly by impossibletruths (T, 14k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, music au, neigbors, graduate school, music as a love language) on AO3 except that LWJ is a violin player

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5. okay, i once started reding a wangxian fic that was based on another fic called "the simplest way forward" and it was like this, wangxian were roommates and someone dropped Yuan off at their door and that's all i remember because i didn't finish it and now i can't find it, help me please and thank you <3 @akutamichan

FOUND? so take my hand (take my whole life too) by cicer (E, 92k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental Baby Acquisition, oh my god they were roommates, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, this fic is not about trauma, it’s about the yearning, slowburn)

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6. hi! i was looking for an E rated sbwy gym fic where wwx thinks of him and lwj as really good gymbros. one point theyre at a smoothie(?) place where wwx says hes glad they started seeing each other (as friends) but lwj interprets it as romantic. jc had said wwx was feminine when theyre were 14 or smth and so wwx has a mild complex abt it. i rmbr wwx has an old flip phone and nhs makes a joke how wwx is rich enough to buy a new smartphone instead, also when lwj sends photos it takes forever to load in. i think lwj did soundtracks for movies too? and wwx mentions watching those movies for him. sry thats all i rmbr! i believe its possibly deleted, and if so does anyone have it downloaded?

#6 has been privated I think 😓

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7. For the next fic finder I was wondering if you could help me find two specific Hogwarts AUs?

- Moved to a YiZhan FF/ITMF post

The second one is really vague and I’m sorry for that but I remember a WangXian fic where Wei Wuxian is part Veela and maybe he’s a Slytherin or Hufflepuff? I can’t seem to remember anything else besides there being a focus on Wei Wuxian’s volatile nature and battle prowess due to his Veela blood. He may have also killed a guy, or at least severely harmed some guy in self defense. I loved their world building and I’m so upset that I’ve lost both of them. Thank you for the help in advance.

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8. Hey! Been following for a while and enjoying all the finders and recs from this page!

I have a request though, I'm trying to look for this fiction where wei ying is a general (i think) and lan zhan is a dragon, and there's a war between all sect, with the lans, the nie, and wen on one side, against the jin and jiang on the other. There's also animal shifters among the gentry where I think the jiang might be water birds?? I can't quite remember. The jiang and Jin end up defeated and the others win. Wei ying.is also a genius tactician and is respected by the other side of the war. I can't remember the name of the fiction and I'm desperate to find it. I think it's a completed fic too

Many thanks if you find it! (And could you tag me so I definitely see the post this request shows up if its found?? I forget things easily) @elderredraccoon

FOUND! Crossing Paths by Ilona22 (M, 21k, wangxian, shapeshifter au, graphic depictions of violence, war between sects, war crimes, not JC friendly, happy ending)

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9. Hi! I'm looking for a WangXian fic where WWX and LWJ go back in time but WWX goes back a very long time before his birth. He holes up in the Burial Mounds and becomes notorious as the YLLZ. He's also pretty depressed I think? When WWX realizes that LWJ is born he storms into the Cloud Recesses and demands LWJ's hand in marriage -- LWJ is only 12 (I think) at this point and LQR and LXC are horrified but LWJ agrees without their input (he still has his original memories). WWX starts out just treating LWJ like a child he's very fond of but when LWJ gets older and becomes an adult, they resume a sexual relationship and I think WWX comments on how they're slowly shifting their dynamics from Kind Mentor WWX/Young Mentee LWJ to Bratty Bubbly WWX/Calm Dominant LWJ. I remember really liking this fic but I don't remember what any of its tags were or whether it was a single fic or a series of one shots etc etc. I would appreciate the help! @sssrha

FOUND? An Unusual Betrothal by ahealthydoseof (G, 74k, wangxian, time travel, age difference, immortality, BAMF WWX, younger LWJ, older WWX, misunderstandings, fluff & crack, worried parents, rabbits, food, non-sexual intimacy, murder, fix-it of sorts, developing relationship, humor, arranged marriage, jealousy, friendship, family feels, dysfunctional family, fatherhood, angst, hurt/comfort, mentor WWX, natural disasters, sworn brotherhood, serious injuries, kissing)

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10. Looking for a fic, please help! the wens had won the war years ago. I only remember a scene where lan wangji and the juniors were in a shop or restaurant of some sort and wen xu comes in and intimidates lan wangji to where the juniors defend him. He thanks them later saying it’s hard for him to deal with wen xu. (he had lan wangji in captivity during the war, lan wangji still has Nightmares about it). I don’t remember where wei ying is or if he “died”. Thanks!!!!

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11. Hello! I'm looking for 2 fics that I have wanted to rec on ITMFs so many times but just can't find! Both are canon divergent, not modern au.

A) it is a sort of eldritch wwx. He was eaten by a demon that like. Consumed his memories and wanted to be wwx? And then he gets back to sunshot, vomits up wen chaos teeth, has sex with lan zhan and also eats cows whole? Its a good one!

B) this one I remember just one scene. It is post sun shot, a confrontation at the jin banquet with yllz wwx. Yu Ziyuan is alive and checks his core in public and realizes he is coreless (i really think its her! But maybe someone else...). This might have been schemed by wen qing? Fix it after this point i think. @absurdlyadmiredarmchair

11A)

FOUND! You are what you eat by deliciousblizzardshark (E, 17k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Eldritch WWX, Horny LWJ, Body Horror, Possession, of a sort, Cannibalism, kind of, Mild Gore, Teeth, Fluff and Humor, Smut, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Monster sex, Switching, Light BDSM, Rimming, Self-Lubrication, Seriousness treated Crackily, Implied/Referenced Torture, Dead WWX)

11B)

FOUND! seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 24k, wangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, or rather arranged betrothal, weapongrade thirst)

not found Yearning for Miles by Murahi (M, 378k, WangXian, LQR/SiSi, Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, Mutual Pining, seeing the future) There is a scene like this quite far into the fic. It's chapter 64 to be precise 😊

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12. anyone know of a fic where wwx falls into the wen treasure room after sunshot, it's the only thing i remember about it

I don't know what the fic for #12, but I think I've read it before and Wen Qing & Wen Ning show a group of people onto the Wen throne room through a back door, and WN had to open it as it could only be opened by a male Wen. There was a big Wen family tree on the wall of this secret entrance.

FOUND! Better Things to Do with a Flute in Wartime by Anonymous (E, 365k, MingXian, WangXianJue, Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, Magical Healing Cock, Dual Cultivation, mild Dom/Sub, Undernegotiated Kink, Golden Core Reveal, Breathplay, Choking, Painplay, Subdrop, Topdrop, Major Character Injury, Canon Divergence, What-If, Temperature Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fisting, Spanking, PTSD, Trauma, Self-Harm, (in the pursuit of cultivational badassery) Something similar happens in chapters 43-45

Not FOUND! ❤️ Gentians in bloom by teawater (M, 251k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, AU after cold spring, Political Marriage, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, LQR bashing (not really), POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Eventual Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, JC is actually a lot better than canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, YZY bashing (again not completely)) the one mentioned with the wen family tree is, in chapter 33

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13. Hi

Firstly, I want to say thank you, this blog is awesome, and I have found so many good Fics to read as well as find ones that I have lost or forgot to bookmark.

Secondly, I would like help to find a fic, from what I remember Wei Ying was drunk on the rooftop when someone approached. In his drunken state, he thinks it was Lan Wangji that showed up so he goes on saying things like are you here to punish me again. He also asks why Lan Wangji hates him so much, but the whole entire time it was actually Lan Xichen he was talking to. I think it takes place after he got punished for drinking in Cloud Recess, and then something happens and he almost falls off the roof but Lan Xichen catches him. Lan Wangji had apparently witnessed the whole thing and tried to apologize but Lan Xichen coldly tells him the apology should be given to Wei Ying instead when he wakes up.

Again, thank you so much in advance.

~*~

14. Hi 👋, for the next fic finder - im trying to find a fic i saw awhile back. I cant remember too clearly but i think lwj got separated from the lan clan when he was young and found himself in a brothel. I remember when he was young - he only had to clean etc but as he was growing, his good looks started getting noticed. I think he also asked someone to curse him so he looks hideous or something.

Please help me find this 🙏. Thank you so much 🌸

FOUND? Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters, Neurodivergent LWJ, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, lwj-centric, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

~*~

15. hi! i’m looking for a fic that’s gone missing! it’s a modern au, where lan zhan and wei ying are strangers that are matched by a hotel and are going to spend wei ying’s heat together. it’s supposed to be a hotel where u can safely share a heat without the threat of pregnancy but they throw that out the window and just spend it together. oh! it’s a smut fix lol. but yeah that’s about it. hopefully u can find it, i randomly thought ab and could not find it anywhere :’)

random detail: lan zhan’s cello fingers were pointed out @alt-stay

FOUND! Lucid by lazulink (E, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Assigned Heat Partners, Strangers to Lovers Speedrun, Scenting, Nesting, Knotting, Mating Bites, Cunnilingus, Rimming, Humiliation, Blow Jobs, Breeding Kink, Spanking, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Somnophilia, Breathplay, Loss of Virginity, Light Dom/sub, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, PWP, Intersex Omegas, Under-negotiated Kink, Implied Future Mpreg)

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16. Strange one again, I'm looking for a fic that mentions the situation at Lotus Pier is made harder by the fact that JFM has his servants, YZY has hers, but because they're so separate, nobody knows whether his servants outrank hers or whose orders take precdence, and how WWX gets tangled in it. Pretty sure it's a Lan commenting on the disharmony, but not 100%.

FOUND? Alliance AU by Ilona22 (E, 17k, wangxian, ABO, arranged marriage, intersex omegas, canon Jiang family dynamics, not JC friendly, matchmaking, night hunts) is 'Lotus Pier' Ilona22 is the third fic in their Alliance AU. It's an ABO series, and the bit about the separate household is from the perspective of a servant there witnesses happy Wangxian at the Lotus Pier markets

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17. Hi! For your next fic finder can I please request this wangxian time travel fic where LWJ goes back to where WWX just reappeared after the burial mounds and LWJ asks him to marry him and WWX takes it as a joke??? thank you! @iyo-luv

FOUND? Lan Wangji's Prank by shiroakuma (E, 23k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, everyone lives au, pining, golden core reveal, YLLZ WWX, first kiss, first time, love confessions, wangxian get happy ending) hi!! so, for the last fic finder, #17 might be "Lan Wangji's Prank" by shiroakuma? i say might bc lwj asks to court wwx, not marry, but this is the only fic that came to mind when i read the request <33

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18. So I’m looking for a specific fic that I know is on ao3, can’t remember the name of the story nor the author though.

And that’s after looking through my history on ao3 for over an hour.

All I really remember from it was that it was short, like one to ten chapters long.

(And yes I do consider 10 chapters short)

It took place in cloud recess study arc, jiang Cheng punched or got into a physical fight with Jin Zixuan, in the classroom if I remember correctly.

Wei wuxian was injured. Somehow, story could be after the waterborne abyss.

Oh and the Jiangs asking WWX why he didn’t defend Yanli. Despite the fact he’s injured on the floor. @ravenwithwings

FOUND! If only you knew (what goes on in my mind) by makexianxianhappytoday (G, 7k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, angst w/ happy ending, not Jiang friendly, protective LWJ)

Not FOUND! No Refunds, Satisfaction Guaranteed by la_muerta (E, 20k, WangXian, Robots & Androids, Childhood Friends, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Rimming, Come as Lube, Semi-Public Sex, Light Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dom/sub Undertones)

~*~

19. Hello! I’m trying to find a fic where lan zhan orders a sex robot/android and wei ying goes to deliver it but there’s a problem with getting it up to the apartment so he goes to the apartment to talk to lan zhan and lan zhan mistakes him as the robot and wei ying for some reason decides to go along with it? Please help I can’t seem to find it anywhere! 🙏💜 @rainingkittens

Not FOUND! Heartspots & Human Things by flowerofgusu (E, 17k, wangxian, major character death, modern, romance, falling in love, angst w happy ending, with a twist, grief/mourning, versatile wangxian, eventual smut, demisexual LWJ, tragedy with a twist, tenderness, second chances, learning to love again, sex robot WWX, morally grey NHS)

FOUND! No Refunds, Satisfaction Guaranteed by la_muerta (E, 20k, WangXian, Robots & Androids, Childhood Friends, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Rimming, Come as Lube, Semi-Public Sex, Light Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dom/sub Undertones)

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20. hello! thank you for your help. I'm looking for a modern au fic where wwx was in an abusive relationship with wen chao (or wen zhuliu? one of the bad wens). all I remember is that a-yuan was wen chao's biological child and wwx wanted to protect him so he suffered the abuse for years and when wen chao went to prison wwx adopted a-yuan. hopefully someone recognizes

FOUND! how to make your dad fall in love with your high school teacher in five steps; the complete and bulletproof guide by ravenditefairylights (T, 90k, wangxian, modern, coffee shop au, nonbinary LSZ, hurt/comfort, trauma, past abuse, past domestic violence, healing, hurt WWX, found family, hospitalization, therapy, single parent WWX, pining, teacher LWJ, unreliable narrator, chronic pain, queer platonic relationship, genderfluid WWX, autistic LWJ, fluff & angst)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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scarletteye · 4 months

Text

Introducing myself

Well this feels awkward •ᴗ•

I rarely make posts like these on any website but hey I gotta start somewhere, and having a blog was something that always interested me. Be it a hobby or something I can professionaly work with. And I do love yapping. So that's a big plus

Not but fr, who am I you might ask? Why am I introducing myself to the tumblr void?

Truth be told I am a silly little writer. Currently I post on A03 since I am hyperfixated on Genshin Impact, and I love love love writing. In fact I have wrote a couple of series now. Word count can reach up to 150k words. Crazy stuff.

Here are some fics I wrote that you might recognize or enjoy if you feel like looking into them!

A Puppet's Heart series

A series of 3 main books and one extra short fic, focused on Scaramouche x reader, sprinkle of Cynonari, and exploring friendships/tension between Wanderer, Cyno, Collei and Tighnari

Canon-compliant

<𝟑 The main 3 stories:

Lotus and it's Thorns

Blossom of the Divine

The Withered in Bloom

<𝟑 Extras/short fics (be warned that the second one is a smut)

1. Dendrobiums and Mourning Flowers

2. Darling (Don't order me around)

You can read the series here: Click me

A Loving Promise Series

A work-in-progress series, focused on Childe x reader, in which Childe is a bit yandere (ok maybe a lot yandere) and forced marriage is a big thing. Childe's lore is very impactful here, especially abyss stuff

Canon-compliant, will have multiple parts of the series

The Main story:

Ornament of Heart

You can read the series here: Click me

The Ghost of Inazuma

A standalone fic, focused on Kazuha x Kazuha's friend (Tomo) and detective Heziou. In this one Kazuha has a side-hustle as an assassin and things get very heated when the Tenryou comission starts hunting him down. Heizou is among them, of course, as a lead detective

You can the book here: Click me

Ambush and Revenge

A short whump fic centered around Heizou and the dangers of his job. He gets ambushed and hurt, and explores a bit of Heizou's friendship with Kujou Sara

You can read the fic here: Click me

Murder and Drama - A Midnight Case

A short detective fic about Heizou and the Arataki Gang, mostly focused on humor (wow me not writing hardcore angst?? shocker). The Arataki Gang gets framed for murder and Heizou has to solve the case with Itto's brilliant help (Itto lies when he is nervous).

You can read the fic here: Click me

In conclusion

As you can see I write a lot and yapp a lot, and if you enjoy my writing feel free to follow my tumblr blog. I want to write more and am thinking about opening comissions. So if you enjoy my writing style and ideas I would be more than happy to take requests! I generally have a lot of ideas/headcannons and thoughts to share about Genshin and their characters, even if its not related to my fics. Always happy to discuss stuff with people so don't be scared to share your thoughts or questions!

That is all for now! Thank you for taking the time to read my introduction <3

#genshin fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 link #fanfiction #ao3 author #genshin impact #genshin x reader #scaramouche #scara x reader #childe tartagalia #childe x reader #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha x kazuha's friend #shikanoin heizou #arataki gang #cynonari #genshin cyno #yandere childe

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fillinforlater · 8 months

Note

i kinda agrer w the anon like ig the older members r fine but if u plan on writing for new jeans rhe maknae is 14/15…

A measured Response

While I think the other anon who send the initially accusation is still the one sending asks to my inbox, I also think that you are another person. I will strengthen and steel-man your concerns/argument, though it will always baffle me that y'all have these ridiculous spelling errors. Seriously, guys, at least try to type coherent messages/a literal paragraph with no mistakes.

(To those of you who do, thank you <3)

For some fucking reason I feel like I have to make this a thing. I should not, really. These accusations are baseless, I'm not the thing he wants to frame me as, so on and so on, but because I think you are genuinely kinda worried what I meant, I'll explain it to you.

(I'm not sorry if I sound condescending or anything, because I am)

It started with this ask, which basically asked me:

"Do you plan on writing NewJeans in the future?"

Now, being human and (probably) understanding English as well as context, this is what I (and probably 99% of other people with the right context) assumed this person meant:

"Do you plan on writing a fic about any of the 18+ NewJeans members in the future?"

bUt tHaT iSnT wHaT tHeY aSkEd!?

You cannot possibly reach that conclusion. Seriously, go look at literally every fic I ever wrote. Age of the idols? Ranging from 30 something down to 18, the absolute hard legal and (I guess) moral minimum, the line I don't cross.

If you go to my page or just open this weird ass tab from Tumblr (fuck Tumblr), you see stuff like "18+ Girl Group fic writer" or "No minors" or (from my Biaslists & Writelist & Requests tab) "Remember that I said most and 18+. This automatically excluded all 18- idols... I won't write those." This is easily understandable, obvious context to the message from above.

Or did you think I would just write about literal new jeans, like an review or something? No, of course not.

Oh, you can also look at my response, like... I specifically mention Hanni and Danielle, two 18+ idols, very popular, probably the two (including I guess Minji) the asker probably meant.

Now the point where I might look like an idiot if I take you seriously:

I responded to the baseless accusation with a GIF of Hanni, the focus on an easily identifiable part (her ass). The response of the accuser (still in my inbox):

"You just admitted you're a pedo"

Wrong and cringe.

Granted, you did not know this message (if you are a different person), yet you still, after seeing the Hanni GIF decided to say this. Either you are fucking stupid or this is maliciously framing me. Pick your poison.

(BTW: You are stupid because Hanni is 18. International age. Whatever the fuck Koreans use/used to use does not count, but she is also "19"/an adult there)

If you now need it black on white (or white on black), here it goes:

I'm not a pedo. I'm even against idols debuting under the age of 18.

(Why did I even bother? I dunno man, now it's out of the system)

With that said, I got some ideas for a Hanni fic (still very basic, but god, she is gorgeous and hot) and for a Danielle fic (funnily, it's not even a smut).

Everyone, have a nice day and some pretty Minji <3

#kpop smut #female idol smut #newjeans smut #newjeans fanfic #why am I responding to idiots

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iamthecomet · 1 year

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mommeeeetttt,,,,,

mountain in the kitchen eating a banana cuz he wanted a quick snack!! aeth walks in and sees him eating the last banana and gets upset (he wanted it) so mountain playfully offers to feed it to him, but aeth will never say no to nana!! Mountain tries to push it as far as he can cuz he wants to see if aeth will gag (he doesn't lol just stares at him like ??? and takes the BIGGEST bite off the banana) Mountain is kind of surprised but also turned on!! asks aether if he can also take him without gagging (bc monster ghock amiright?) the rest is up to you <3

Raavveeennnnn. Finally. FINALLY. getting to the banana fic. <3 <3

Aether doesn't have a gag reflex. Mountain feels like he should have known that before now. It's important information, crucial even.

He holds Aether's gaze, as the banana disappears into Aether's waiting mouth. Aether winks at him. He reaches up to take the banana from Mountain's grasp so he can actually eat it. Mountain lets it go without a though, he's too busy watching Aether pull it out of his throat and take a sizable bite. He swallows, his mouth is dry. "Why are you looking at me like that," Aether asks, happily taking another bite of the banana that was supposed to be Mountain's breakfast.

"You didn't--I thought you'd--"

"What? Gag?" Aether winks at him again and turns headed out of the kitchen. "I've had bigger things in my throat than this." "What about me?" Mountain says, all in a rush. He doesn't plan to say anything, the words just spill out of him. He feels his face heat as soon as they're out.

Aether's sucked Mountain off plenty of times. But never like that. He rarely gets deep-throated. There's a lot of him to swallow down, and he's just as happy with a good old-fashioned blow job. Or, at least, he was until this exact second. Aether licks his lips. His eyes dart down to the front of Mountain's sweatpants. His cock is already fattening up against the fabric, there's no hiding it. "I can do it," Aether says, confidently, almost nonchalant, like it's a foregone conclusion.

"You never have."

"You never asked." "I--"

Aether's on his knees in front of Mountain before Mountain has fully comprehended what's happening. Aether reaches up, pulls Mountain's sweatpants down, and curls his fingers around his half-hard cock.

Mountain thinks about stopping him. It's 10am. They're in the kitchen. But then Aether's rolling his foreskin back and sucking the head into his mouth and Mountain's brain turns off. Shuts up. Relents. Mountain rests one hand on the back of Aether's head. He braces himself on a chair with the other. As Aether sucks more of him into his mouth, works him to full hardness. Mountain isn't sure what he expects. Something slow maybe, Aether building himself up to take him. But that isn't what he gets. Instead, Aether takes him fully in one go. A slow easy slide until Aether's nose is pressed into the coarse curls at the base of Mountains' cock. He doesn't gag. He doesn't sputter. Instead, he looks up at Mountain, doe-eyed, lips and throat stretched around him. And Mountain feels his knees go weak. Aether swallows around him and Mountain can't fight the sound that comes out of him, can't help the way his hips twitch forward. Aether pulls off and Mountain watches each slick inch emerge from his plush lips with rapt attention. "Told you," Aether says with a grin. Then he pushes away. He stands up. Mountain grabs for him but Aether slips out of his fingers. "What? Wait--"

Aether uses his thumb to wipe an invisible drop of drool from the corner of his mouth. "Did you want something else?" Mountain blushes. He glances down at his wet cock, then back up at Aether. He'd like to say something, but he doesn't know how to get his brain back online enough to put his dick away, never mind find words to ask Aether what's happening. "Don't worry big guy," Aether says, turning and heading for the door. "I'll finish you off later."

#comet writes #ficlet #request #raven #aether/mountain #mountain/aether #mountain x aether #aether x mountain #ghost fic #ghost fan fic #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fan fiction #nameless ghoul fan fic

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dakotalun · 1 year

Text

Want Part 2 | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: PART 2-- Eddie hangs out with someone and you confront him about it. Eddie shows up again with a surprise.

warnings: oral (f. receiving), praise kink, pet names (good boy, baby, ma'am, babe), sub!eddie, fingering, swearing

word count: 2.9k

a/n: been a whole month...whoopsies. But I am coming back with a nice and long fic for y'all. I also have a few things in the works that will be multi parted. I hope y'all enjoy and have an amazing day!! :)

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie's been gone for what feels like hours, I’m completely broken and hurt while he's probably off with Chrissy again. Out of all the things I could've done today, I chose to ruin my relationship. I slowly raise to my feet but upon seeing the plate that Eddie had haphazardly thrown to the counter I start to feel sick. I rush to the bathroom and throw up.

Hours pass by. I'm sitting on the cold bathroom floor, refusing to move. I've thrown up twice since Eddie left me, once when I realized what he had been doing for most of the day and again after throwing up everything that was in my stomach. He still hasn't called or texted me. I really fucked this up. And I have no clue how I'm going to fix it.

My stomach tightens again as I feel another wave of vomit come up. And that's how I spend the night, laying on the bathroom floor occasionally barfing as I cry over Eddie. I can't believe I've made such a big mistake.

I wake up the next morning feeling drained and exhausted. The events from last night are still fresh in my mind and I can't seem to get myself out of bed. I turn over, a sliver of hope that Eddie came home last night. But all I find is the empty, cold space where he should be. I grab my phone from the nightstand and check for any messages, nothing. A sigh leaves my mouth as I come to the full conclusion that I should maybe leave for a while, this was Eddie's trailer first after all.

I peel myself out of the sheets and trudge to the bathroom. Getting back I search the messy closet we share for my duffel bag, finding it under a mess of dirty clothes and an old amp Eddie keeps saying he'll throw out. I pick out some comfortable jeans and a few t-shirts, stuffing them into the bag and slipping my feet into a pair of sneakers.

After grabbing my phone charger and headphones I grab the keys from the counter and walk outside. A cold gust of wind blows in my face as the seasons change from summer to fall. I plug my headphones in but just as I'm about to put them on I hear a loud boom of music coming from the street entrance of the trailer park.

I look up to see none other than Eddie driving his van, music blasting and flowing through the open windows. He's driving with little regard for anything around him, nearly hitting the neighbor's fence before parking. He shuts the van off and hops out, stumbling slightly. Yeah he's clearly drunk, or at least he was at some point since I last saw him. His face is red and slightly swollen, stains line his face from tears.

He finally looks up to see me standing on the porch of the trailer, staring at him a broken look in my eye still. He slowly and hesitently steps towards me.

"Hey," Eddie reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tic.

"Hi."

The two of us stand there for a few seconds just looking at each other taking in the events of last night. I'm the first to talk.

"I'm gonna stay with Rob for a few days, just so we can kinda, you know," I don't finish the sentence, too scared to make this a reality.

"Don’t. Please," His eyes are softer now, no anger or resentment behind them. Just pure love and adoration, "I need you here. Please stay."

"Eddie," I look down at my feet, now finding the slowly rotting floor boards more interesting, "Look, I wish I could stay with you. I really do, but after last night. After what you said, what I said. I just don't think it's a good idea."

I don't notice how his face drops, a small frown taking place on his lips. He takes a few more steps closer to me, now at the bottom of the porch.

"Please. I don't want to lose you too. Not after all this time. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me." His words break my heart all over again, "You coming into my life was the besy thing to ever happen to me. I wouldn't have ever had the courage to really try and finish high school without you."

He speaks he walks up the steps, getting closer to me, enough to finally smell the alcohol on him, "If I could go back in time and not hang out with Chrissy I would, in an instant. But I can't," He's finally reached me. He brings his hands out to hold mine, I look at him. Really look at him for the first time since yesterday. I can see how much he means this, and how much he wants me to say I'll stay.

"I don't know if I can trust you anymore Eddie. You lied to me about where you were, and what you were doing. You're still selling even after I told you not to," I scan his face, trying to find something, anything, "And then there's Chrissy-"

"There's nothing going on between me and her, I promise! I really was just catching up with an old friend."

"Then why did you leave?" There it was. The question at the top of my mind ever since he walked out that door, why. If she was just an "old friend" then he shouldn't have felt the need to leave me. To let me cry until I was physically ill.

I pull my hands away from his, missing the warmth of them. I start to head towards my car, needing to be out of here, out of his space, away.

"Wait, please," He turns with me, following, "Babe, I love you with everything I have, and ever will have. You are the only person on this planet for me. You're the only person I can open up to. The only one I can be myself around, I need you."

He's saying all the right things except for one, the one I really need to hear from him. I stop and harshly turn to him, "I know Eddie! I know you love me and need me and all that bullshit but that's not what I asked you! I asked if you want me? If I will be enough for you, if I'm just another girl for you to fuck and pretend to love before you throw me off to the side like trash? So, do. you. want. me?"

My hands are shaking, both from the cold and my anger. I wait for him to answer, wishing he would just say yes so we can go back to normal or no so I can move on and get away from him.

"I- OF COURSE! I want you more than anything!" He runs up to me, placing his hands on my cheeks, shielding them from the cold. "Could you come with me?"

"What?" I’m confused by the sudden change in questions. Where could he possibly want me to go right now?

"Just come with me? I need to- I want to show you something, please," He's begging. Eddie Munson has never begged for anything in his life and yet here he is, practically on his hands and knees for me.

"Fine," I sigh.

His eyes light up, hands falling from my face to interlock with mine. He pulls me to his van, opening the door like he always does. Forever a gentleman. He all but sprints to the driver's side before quickly starting the old van and driving out of the lot he just came into.

We drive to the other side of town, where all the rich kids live. We trun the corner and Eddie looks over to me.

"Close your eyes."

"Huh?"

"Close your eyes. It's a surprise," A grin has spread across his face, crinkling the sides of his eyes.

I groan lightly before shutting my eyes, wondering what the hell Eddie is up to now. Not long after, we are parking and Eddie's grabbing my hand to lead me wherever we are at.

I giggle a little as he all but pushes me through a doorway, "Eds what are you doing? Where the fuck are we?"

"You'll see, just keep those pretty little eyes closed alright?" He walks me a few more steps before postioning me in place, "Alright, open."

I open my eyes and am momentarily blinded my the bright florescent overheads before noticing we are standing in front of a door.

"Eddie. What the hell is this?" I turn to look at him, his signature shit eating grin plastered on. He holds up his keys, searches for the right one then opens the door in front of us. He leads me inside, looking at my every facial movement.

"This," He gestures to the large empty living room, "is our new apartment. That is if you're not still mad at me?" His face is soft and sweet, waiting for my answer.

"Eddie this is- how did you? I don't understand," I shake my head slightly trying to understand what's going on here, "What do you mean this is our apartment?"

Eddie stands in front of me blocking my view. He reaches for my hands and holds them in his, taking away some of the anxiety I have right now.

"I've been working extra hours at the auto shop down on Main, and selling a little bit too," My face drops, "I know you told me to stop! But I saw this place a while ago, when Wayne was house hunting. And I just knew it was perfect for us."

He squeezes my hands, pulling me to the large windows on the other side of the room, it overlooks Main Street and all the little shops he knows I love, "Every dollar I’ve earned this past year has gone into a down payment on this place. It took a lot of haggling with Ted on my wages but I finally had enough. Then we had our fight last night," He looks down, ashamed at himself for what happened, "When you asked if I wanted you I don't know what happened but I just knew that now was the time to finally pay for it. So I raced down here and payed the guy, because I want nothing more than to have you in my life forever."

As he's talking, I realize I'm crying, I can't help it, I feel so much joy and pain all at once. Eddie's hands grip tighter, keeping me from falling to the floor, "If you don't want this just tell me, give me the word and I won't bother you again," He places his finger below my chin to make me look at him, his eyes are rimmed with tears just like mine are, "But before you do just let me tell you what I did last night was stupid and I promise I will never do that again. I love you with everything I have and I always will. But if I hurt you too much just tell me and I'll back off."

I can't think straight when he looks at me like that, his big brown doe eyes staring at me with all the love a person could ever hold. I look around the apartment one last time, out the big window to our right, and finally back at Eddie.

"Alright."

"What? Alright? Like you'll live here with me?!" His smile has returned, eyes finally letting the tears fall.

"Yes, Eddie. I'll move in here with you," He picks me up off my feet in a giant bear hug, spinning us in place as he yells in excitement, "On one condition."

He puts me down, hands still around my waist, not letting me move any further away, "Anything. Just name it."

"No more selling. You focus on school and I'll focus on the bills."

"Baby I can't-"

"This won't be for forever Eds. Just until you graduate then we can both pay the bills, just please promise me that?"

"Yes ma'am." He smiles and pulls me into a searing kiss. One that feels like we haven't kissed in years, and won't ever get the chance again. The kiss makes me weak in the knees and I can feel the wetness growing in my pants.

Eddie groans into the kiss before pulling away, "I gotta stop kissing you or else we'll be ruining this place before we even move in."

"And what's so bad about that? It seems like it needs a good cristining don't you?"

"Babe," Eddie's eyes grow wide and look to the side of us, where the floor length windows stand, uncovered, "We can't. What if people see us?"

I walk over to the window and look out onto the street. It's a quiet day, only a few people walking around. "So what? They'd all get to know that you're mine and I'm yours. Forever."

I can feel Eddie's chest on my back as he presses against me, his boner growing slowly, "My naughty girl," His hands go to my hips but before they can travel anywhere I turn around and pin them to his sides.

"That's ma'am to you. Got it?" I don't know where this confidence came from but I’m enjoying it. And so is Eddie, he nods his head vigirously, "Sorry I can't hear you."

"Yes ma'am."

"That's my god boy," Eddie's eyes close at the nickname, his body shivering, "You like that don't you? You like being called my good boy?"

"Mhmm. Yes ma'am."

I stand on my tiptoes to reach Eddie's ear and whisper, "Then get on your knees and show me just how good of a boy you are."

Before I can even blink Eddie is on his knees in front of me, unbuckling my jeans and pulling them down to my ankles. The sight of the wet patch on my panties has me in pieces, slowly losing all composure.

He looks up to me as he hooks his fingers into the waistline of my underwear, "May I?" I nod and he pulls them down, the slick from me making them stick to my folds. He groans and starts kissing up my thighs, towards the place I need him most. His kisses are featherlight, slowly making me dizzy, I wish he would go faster.

"Eddie," I sigh as he finally plants a kiss to my clit, so soft it's almost missed. Once he gets a taste of me he dives right in, licking a stripe up my folds to collect the juices. He moans at the taste, licking me like a dog starved.

I unravel above him, my knees becoming weak and numb. The way he eats me out is heavenly and I’ve never wanted a thing to stop less than right now. Moans and sighs are falling past my lips with each lick and suck of Eddie's mouth. I begin to feel that wonderfully familiar knot tightening and begin tightening around Eddie's tongue. He feels it and moves his ministrations up to my clit and shoves two fingers into my entrance.

"Fuck!" I keel over on top of Eddie, one hand braced on his head and the other on his shoulder, "Just like that. I'm so close Ed." Eddie picks up speed and bends his fingers to reach that spongey spot inside with every thrust of his fingers.

"Come on baby. Cum for me, let me taste you. I missed the way you taste so much. Please come for me, please."

His words send me over the edge, white lights blinding me as the string finally snaps and I’m cumming all over Eddie's face and fingers. He doesn't stop his movements, he pulls me through my orgasm, spewing words of affection and love the entire time. Once he notices that I’m starting to slow down he releases his mouth from me and removes his fingers, eliciting a whine from my lips.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Eddie slowly stands, holding me as my leg strength still haven't come back.

"That's my good boy," I pull him in for a kiss, tasting myself on him. He pushes into me making his erection rub against my exposed thigh. His eyes squeeze shut at the feeling.

"Can I fuck you now?" His eyes are pleading and full of lust.

"Take me home first, Eddie," I look into his eyes and feel nothing but love for this man. The way he treats me with so must love and attention makes me want ot hold on nad never let go, no matter what happens to us.

"We are home sweetheart. This is home now."

"I know. I just love the sound of it," I pull Eddie in for another kiss, this one sweet and gentle. Nothing like the ones from before, only love and adderation fills this, as I try to show him how much I feel for him.

I’m so caught up in the kiss that I don't even notice Eddie dip down quickly and place his hands on my thighs, but before I can question he lifts me up. I instinctivly wrap my legs around his hips and circle his neck with my arms.

"Eddie!" I squeal from my upward position.

"What? I wanna take you to the bedroom, it's got a walk-in closet," He smirks at that last little detail before walking down the hall toward the rest of the apartment.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis

#eddie stranger things #munson #eddie munson #eddie my love #eddie my beloved #female reader #oneshot #smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie x reader

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