#steps fresh off the plane in his pressed suit and sunglasses

[motleyfam]

ok, but after reading your analysis of the whole the who's carsick poll and the really cute Dick and Damian dynamic I cracked myself up thinking about a road trip without Dick, Duke, and Steph but with Damian where Bruce is secretly thinking 'sweet! we're gonna be able to make such good time!' blissfully unaware that he's weaving his way towards disaster. What a delightful though exercise!! Thank you! Also, what about Alfred?

(referring to this post)

lmaooo RIP Bruce thinks he's finally going to have some peace

#alfred... i just don't see him tagging along for family road trips #this is not for lack of being invited #the man just needs a fucking break sometimes #and being cooped up in a vehicle with these devil children sounds horrific #he flies out to meet them all at disney world #steps fresh off the plane in his pressed suit and sunglasses #while bruce and co. come stumbling out of the car looking like they've all had a brush with death #which honestly isn't too far from the truth after duke's window maneuver there

[ao3bronte]

Transience

This is my contribution to @mlwriterzine Once Upon A Season! It was a pleasure to be a part of the project and the finished piece (a gorgeous 260 page paperback) was a treat!

Also on AO3!

Adrien is and always has been a young man of many talents. He excels in sports, outshines in academics, and loves tinkering with the vintage 1962 Ferrari he keeps in a secret garage just up the road from their belle-époque penthouse apartment in Paris. So honestly, Marinette shouldn’t have been surprised upon finding a sailing yacht waiting for them in the luxurious marina of Saint-Tropez.

“Um...” Gobsmacked, Marinette slips off her sandals and follows him over the exquisitely varnished toerail, “... since when do you know how to drive a boat?”

“Since I was eight.” Adrien shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Mère loved to come down every year to watch the annual regatta. She even sailed in a few of them herself.”

“Wow.” Marinette’s eyes grow wide as she gawks at the opulent 16 metre sailboat. She’d never dreamt of setting foot on one, let alone cruising on one through the French Riviera for a week on her honeymoon. Elated, Marinette can hardly keep the stars from her eyes as she drops her shoulder bag and scampers across the deck until she reaches the front of the vessel, splaying her arms out wide.

“I’m the king of the world!” she cries, laughing as Adrien runs along behind her and plants his hands on her hips, holding her steady.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” She grins into the salty breeze coming off the Mediterranean and steps onto the first rung of the railings. “Just don’t let me fall overboard.”

“You’ll be flying soon, M’Lady.” Adrien pulls her against his chest and presses a kiss to her temple, his stubble scratching softly against her skin. “But first, we have some fenders to collect.”

Marinette blinks. “Uh... what exactly is a fender?”

Adrien’s indulgent laughter echoes in the headsail. “You’re about to get a crash course in Sailing 101, Buginette. Are you ready to be my first mate?”

Marinette spins around in his arms and bops him on the nose. “Teach me everything you know, Captain Kitty.”

Adrien hums, tipping her chin upwards to kiss her lips. “I like the sound of that.”

~

After a few minutes of acquiring her sea legs, Marinette and Adrien Dupain-Cheng are off amidst the serene waves of la Côte d'Azur for a honeymoon trip of a lifetime. Marinette can’t keep her eyes off of the hill-perched towns dotting the coastline, sun-drenched and prismatic against the turquoise waters of the Med. Beside her, Adrien keeps their vessel steady, his seasoned gaze trained on the horizon as they pull out of port and soar northwards, the wind at their every beck and call.

For centuries, every Parisian worth their salt flocked to the French Riviera to soak up the Mediterranean sun and the Agreste’s were no different, once upon a time. Adrien’s childhood memories aboard the Éphémère remind him of bouillabaisse and happier days spent scampering across deck pretending to be a pirate in search of buried treasure. It’s something he hopes he can share with his own children one day, especially now that he and his wife no longer have to spend every spare moment of their lives fighting Hawk Moth.

Sensing her husband’s pensive mood, Marinette snuggles deeper into his side as the afternoon sun begins to dip towards the horizon. She doesn’t need Adrien to assure her that their evenings onboard together will be positively serene with nothing but the seabirds to obstruct the sunset that will surely steal their breath away. He kisses her forehead and hugs her close, his guiding light within the storm that had been brewing since his childhood. After all those years of rough seas at the hands of his father, things were finally settling into an even keel.

Marinette learns the ins and outs of sailing quickly, securing lines and watching for traffic as they navigate along the seaboard of Saint Raphaël . Jibs and boons soon become a part of her vocabulary, and once they've successfully moored in the neighbouring marina, Marinette feels like she's run a marathon.

"That was exhausting," she groans, slumping into the cushions on the sundeck.

Adrien beams, having barely broken a sweat. "Come on; I'll make it worth your while."

Hauling her back onto her feet, Adrien leads her down into the main cabin. All clean lines and warm teak, Marinette leaves her duffel bag on the sofa and explores the spacious interior with curious eyes, carding her fingers through the decades old fashion magazines stacked in a woven basket resting on the floor. He leaves her to explore and hauls their luggage and a cooler down the ladder, filling the marine fridge with fixings for their first dinner outside of Paris. It's peaceful, with nothing but the sounds of the waves to keep them company.

The lights are warm and low in their galley kitchen, a cozy escape from the endless vistas of rocky crags and pastel-orange buildings whose narrow streets spill into the sea. Their table is just large enough for two wicker placemats and a bottle of Mouton-Cadet; old vases filled with seaglass and shells rest on every side table, their edges wrapped in nautical rope. By the counter, Marinette grates a snowy pile of Pecorino cheese over a mound of steaming spaghetti while beside her Adrien grinds fresh pepper into a ramekin, his stomach growling after an afternoon spent at sea. A comfortable silence ebbs and flows between them as the evening tide laps against the hull, drawing them towards the tangy, indulgent nest of cacio e pepe they made together.

~

Marinette wakes the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and a deftly wrapped gift on the bedside table of their lavish master cabin. Slipping her bare legs across the silk sheets as she sits up, she opens her present and plucks one of her own Chat Noir inspired creations from the tissue paper along with a note attached inside.

Care to go for a dip with me, M’Lady?

Marinette snorts and ties the black and neon green bikini up at the neck and hips, leaving a few very tantalizing strings to pull should Adrien let his feline instincts get the best of him. Goodness knows he wouldn’t be able to resist himself, what with the way he could hardly keep his hands off of her last night while they were trying to find a deck of cards in the saloon. She glances at herself in the mirror to wipe the sleep from her eyes and quickly fastens her hair into a loose ponytail, ready to tease her husband senseless.

“Welcome to Cannes!” he announces as she emerges from below deck, mesmerized by the morning sun illuminating his blond hair like a halo. He’s gorgeous in every sense of the word, thoughtful and generous and unfailingly kind, and even in his darkest moments, he never ceases to steal her breath away.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, hooking her fingers into the belt loops of his chinos, “but not as beautiful as you.”

A ruddy flush blooms across his cheeks, a constant victim to her soft-spoken praises. “I can hardly compete against you, Buginette, especially when you’re wearing that.”

“I don’t know...” She grazes her fingernails against his bare chest and smirks as the familiar rumble in his sternum kicks into low gear. “I think the sun suits you.”

“Enough to consider moving down here for good?”

Marinette shrugs; keeping their lives rooted in Paris has been a point of contention between them since the arrest of his father. “Not permanently, no, but I wouldn’t protest if we vacationed here more often.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you overwork yourself,” he responds, closing his eyes as she continues to explore the chiseled planes of his abs. She’s always been gifted when it comes to distractions and this morning is no different; like wayfaring on a starless night, she’s always been the beacon to guide his way. “Now, I thought I invited you up here for a swim?”

“You did.” Marinette steps back, giving him the merciful reprieve he’d needed to calm his beating heart. “And it is kind of hot up here.”

His grip on the ship’s wheel tightens. “No thanks to you.”

“Easy there, Captain Kitty.” Marinette smirks, flicking the golden bell sewn to the bridge of her bikini top. “Race you!”

“Hey!” he gapes at her, scandalized. “I still have to drop anchor!”

Marinette giggles as she zooms past him, leaping off the back of the boat with delight. “Last one in the water has to make breakfast!”

~

Meandering through the Medieval streets of the old city, Marinette and Adrien pause to catch a glimpse of Villefranche-sur-Mer ’s idyllic harbour. There’s an enormous cruise ship dominating the horizon and Adrien is thankful that they’d brought their disguises in tow. No one has recognized either of them with the way they’ve camouflaged themselves in their floppy beach hats and oversized sunglasses.

Marinette spends the afternoon popping in and out of boutiques with turquoise shutters, snapping photos and picking up little trinkets along the way. They stop for lunch at a peaches-and-cream couloured bistro nestled against the water’s edge, its open windows basking the sunlit stone walls with salt-scented air. Adrien joyfully devours his meal, a simply grilled loup de mer with fennel and lemon, while Marinette chatters over a bowl of Niçoise octopus salad that she had been eager to try since spotting it on the chalkboard menu outside.

“It feels weird, not having them around.” Adrien balances a piece of julienned fennel between the tines of his fork. “It’s the first time I’ve taken my ring off in ten years.”

“I promise you, Tikki and Plagg are appreciating their vacation too,” Marinette assures him around a mouthful of cherry tomatoes. “They deserve a break after what happened. We both do.”

Adrien nods and is quiet for a while.

~

“When I was a kid, I used to watch the cliff divers jump into that cove,” Adrien mentions as they sail by, pointing towards a sharp craig jutting from the coastline. “I always wanted to do it myself. Maybe I will.”

“You’re free to do whatever you want now.” Marinette smiles into the wind, the skirt of her sundress billowing up passed her thighs. “So chart us a course, Captain Kitty. Where are we going next?”

“First, we’re stopping in Èze .” Adrien brushes his bangs from his eyes and relishes in being at the helm of transience. “There are galleries all over the place that I know you’ll love. And we have a dinner reservation. I thought you’d appreciate the view.”

Marinette lowers her sunglasses. “I like the view here just fine, thanks.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Adrien smirks and snags her by the hips, easily hauling her up onto the dash of the cockpit. She squeals as he savours the salt on her skin as he plants a kiss on her knee in mock apology. “There. Now I have you right where I want you.”

She kicks and he dodges easily, catching her foot with lightning fast reflexes born from being merged with the Black Cat Miraculous for so long. It’s a familiar song and dance between them, a playful contest sparking in their eyes as he peppers kisses along her ankle, her calf, anywhere he can reach. He stops just shy of the constellation of freckles at the hem of her dress and makes eye contact through his lashes, flashing her a mischievous Chat Noir smile. “I wonder if you’re ... ticklish?

Marinette shrieks as Adrien starts tickling her toes, running his fingernails up and down the arches of her feet. She’s tortured him a thousand times by attacking his sides when he least expected it so he figures it’s about time he seeks revenge. “Adrien! Stop!”

He doesn’t, of course, and chooses to memorize each and every facet of her beauty instead; her smile and her pained laughter, her marks and scars from the final battle only a month before their wedding day. “I’m never letting you go!”

“You’re going to— stop it! —have to if we ever want to get to Èze .” Marinette manages to wrench her ankle free and hops down from the ledge, landing easily in his outstretched arms. “That is, unless you want to crash.”

“If we shipwreck,” Adrien bends low and devours that little spot on her neck that makes her weak every time, “promise me you won’t hog the whole door?”

Marinette bursts into laughter. “Are we seriously going to have this debate again?”

“I’m serious! Jack could have totally fit on that— mmpf! ”

Cupping his cheeks, Marinette hurriedly kisses away the space between them and silences his long-winded debate once and for all. It’s an effective way to shut him up—all things considered—and an astonished gasp spirals from his lips as she hoists herself up his body and brackets his hips with her thighs. She claims him, covets him, her tongue sweeping across his lower lip, and he’s helpless to her siren’s song as he braces her against the cockpit’s controls and clings to her like a drowning man.

“Alright, you win.” Breathless and lightheaded, Adrien pulls back after a while just to soak her in, to remind himself that he’s married to the most beautiful woman in the world. He gazes in awe as she recovers, her flushed cheeks and parted lips swollen and wet. Adrien is drawn back in like a magnet, kissing her with every intention of stealing her breath away.

She buries her hands in his hair, her nails gently scraping against his scalp as Adrien all but melts in her embrace, groaning with pleasure. He deepens their kiss, and Adrien feels drunk with his desire to claim, their passion speaking more than words between them ever could. Every gasp and moan conveys their everlasting partnership and the terror of nearly losing one another in the whirlwind. Shell-shocked and injured, they still held their wedding ceremony, even as the fallout had tugged at their ankles, gossip and chaos pooling around their feet. Together, they’d inherited an empire he’d never wanted in the first place, thrusting them into a world unprepared and raw with nothing but each other as a tether in the storm.

“I love you,” she murmurs against his lips, her heartbeat hammering a tattoo inside her chest. He can feel it against his own, fast and strong and wonderfully alive. “We’ll get through this; together.”

Later, as they draw nearer to the charming port town of Èze, Adrien draws her close and hopes she never leaves his side. “Where to, Miss?”

Marinette smiles. “To the stars.”

~

Nothing comes so abundantly as time when you’re sailing through the seemingly endless vistas of the Med. Their honeymoon stretches on for longer than a week simply because it can; he owns their floating home-away-from-home and she’s working remotely, snagging a Wi-Fi signal whenever they’re in port.

Neither of them seem to be in any hurry to leave the solace of the French Riviera behind. It’s where he’s feasted on fresh seafood and felt better than he has in weeks. It’s where they’ve kissed and made love under the stars a thousand times over. It’s where he’s confessed his doubts about living in Paris and where she’s supported his struggle to leave his father behind.

They’re moored in Antibes tonight and the skies are awash in vibrant pinks and apricot. He drizzles balsamic vinegar onto a shimmering pond of Italian olive oil; she wears hair pins with flowers on them and pours wine like an expert, heedless to the way he’s staring at her like she’s his only source of air.

“I love you,” he whispers. It’s enough.

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #ml fic #miraculous fanfic #ml writer zine

[unstoppableforcce]

dark side

— CHAPTER SEVEN: things missed

pairing: Javier Peña x reader (narcos)

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a/n: so my timeline on some stuff is a little wonky but I’m just going to go with it and if y’all ever have any questions, just let me know ! I know this part is short like the last part but I hope you enjoy !! I’m glad to be back writing !!

He forgot what stakeouts were like.

He thought he missed them now that he spent almost every day at work behind a desk instead of out in the field, but after three hours of walking around the hot streets of Curaçao with the sun beating down the back of his neck and dampening his pink shirt with sweat, he finally realized it wasn’t stakeouts he missed.

It was having a partner.

Someone to rely on to watch his back as he ran in guns blazing, someone to talk to late into the night as the supposedly fresh lead showed no signs of panning out, a drinking partner on Friday nights, a sense of home when he was invited over to dinner... all the things he had unexpectedly found in you.

The man who found you that first night in the bar and fled at the sight of your badge in your purse had no idea what he was getting himself into.

It wasn’t one night anymore and he surprised himself when he admitted that was okay, more than okay even.

He loved you.

And that came with so much regret.

The sweat dripping down his brow was in a constant state of threatening to flood into his eyes, forcing him to wipe at it every few seconds. His shirt was no better, drenched down the back, under the arms, even around his collar no matter how many buttons he undid. And the sun was so bright, he was squinting under his sunglasses towards the bank he was staking out.

And he had no partner.

No one to bounce ideas off of or to lessen the boredom that came with staring at the front of a building for hours on end. He had no one.

Being here just reminded him of that at every turn.

Besides being a hotspot for international illegal banking, Javi could see how the small island was popular with tourists. He would kill to be in a bathing suit on the beach, cold drink in hand with you beside him...

He didn’t get to think like that anymore though. He should have never let himself get so comfortable with ideas like that, maybe that would’ve made it hurt less.

That night, or more aptly, the morning after, changed everything.

He didn’t do much sleeping, though he also hadn’t expect to. 

Staring up at the cracked stucco ceiling, dangling his hand over the edge of the worn leather sofa, letting his head fall back against the scratchy throw pillows... none of that was what was keeping him up.

He could sleep in cars during stakeouts, haunted by the stench of whatever sandwich Murphy had brought along. He could sleep at the office, after longs days that stretched into night reviewing the same dozen pictures over and over again, his forehead eventually falling to hid desk top. He could sleep in his bed, on his couch, at his dining table, anywhere really. It was the pains of having a schedule like his. It meant taking sleep wherever he could get it and the whiskey usually helped with that.

But not that night. Not on your couch.

As the morning light began to flow in through the small window you had over your kitchen sink, he realized he hadn’t slept the whole night. But judging by the faint sounds of your footsteps in your back bedroom for the past few hours, you hadn’t either.

You were probably getting ready for work, you always did somehow manage to beat him into the office, even on days where your morning started alongside him in bed. He was always on time, or at least, he was on time most of the time, but you were always early and you always stayed late.

You were good at your job. You were good at everything--

You weren’t dressed for work.

Dressed in the same sleep clothes you were wearing when you answered the door last night, you let out a quiet yawn as you emerged from the back bedroom carrying a few empty or half empty bottles. It was clockwork for you, out of bed, dressed, and ready by 6, most of the time so you could stop for breakfast or stop by your own apartment on the way in. He glanced to the clock hanging above your stove with squinted eyes to double check but the time only confirmed, it was almost 6 a.m. and you were not dressed for work.

Not even close.

“Did you get any sleep?” You hummed out, tossing some of the bottles into the recycling bin under your sink and shaking a few of them to get a feel for their remaining contents before placing them up in your drink shelf.

“Did you?”

You scoffed at that. 6 in the morning and the two of you were already starting off strong. “Not much, no.”

“You’re not dressed for work,” he groaned a bit, sitting up on the couch to angle himself towards the kitchen to watch you.

And you barely looked like yourself.

He knew morning you and he knew morning you well, and this wasn’t morning you.

Morning you was quiet but not somberly so. The two of you got ready for work in almost complete silence but it wasn’t tense like this, it was comfortable. He could kiss along your skin, up from the sheets around your waist to the warmer skin at your neck, all before you even really woke up. He’d reach for his toothbrush over yours, you’d hit your hip against his, it was simple. It was silent but simple.

Morning you was awake. Unlike himself, you woke up and got up, awake and alert very soon after rolling out of bed. Maybe you were a bit slower to wake up after a night of heavy drinking or longer bedtime activities, but not like this. Now, you looked exhausted, even more so than last night. Bags under your eyes, your shoulders folded in on yourself, your steps slow and your hands even slower, you looked truly exhausted.

Exhausted like he had never really seen you, not even that first night he brought you home to this very couch.

Reaching for one of the towels you had hanging on your stove, you knocked it to the floor before you could even grab it. It just wasn’t you. And it made him almost sick to his stomach watching it unfold in front of him.

Busted knuckles, somber frame, exhausted.

“I’m not going into work today...” you hummed again, your lips barely opening as you spoke.

Getting to his feet with another groan, he reached for his shirt thrown over the side chair and shrugged it over his shoulders but didn’t bother buttoning it yet, he just continued on to the kitchen where you searched your shelves for coffee. “Why not?”

“I’m just not.” You shrugged. Boosting yourself onto your toes, you pushed aside a loaf of bread and still found no coffee, bringing you back to your feet to lean against the counter. “I don’t have any fucking coffee...”

“We can go get some from the bodega down the block—“

“Stop.” You sighed out, rubbing over your face, “just stop, Javi.”

If the previous night wasn’t a good night for talking, that day was even worse, but it didn’t stop you.

“Things are bad right now at work for me, there are internal investigations about the stolen documents, bombings in La Paz, problems with Stechner and I...” he had never heard your voice so weak, not even when he was pressed nose to nose with you the night previous. “Things are bad right now and I can’t do this.”

“You can’t do this?”

“Javi...”

“I don’t even know what this is...” He scoffed out, rubbing his hand over his face as he came to a stop just a few feet from you across the kitchen. 

“I don’t know either, but I think it’s more than either of us ever anticipated and--” you shrugged, tightening your arms around your body even further.

“Yeah...I just...”

What was he supposed to say? If there was a right way to say, ‘i know you’re trying to break up with me but I’m in love with you’, he didn’t know what it was, nor did he have the heart to say it even if he did.

“Javi, there is just a lot going on and--”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. 

He had never really been broken up with, could he even call this that? He had always been on the other side and he was never as gentle as you were. His style had never allowed for that in the past. He just stopped calling, or talking altogether until they got the message... He wasn’t proud of it, god, he left a woman at the alter, none of his dating history was good.

But the feeling in his chest felt synonymous with what he had always heard people described. Heart break felt like the right term, because that’s how it felt. Broken, empty, sore...

Heartbroken. 

“It’s not about you, Javi.”

“I’m flying to Curacao today, I should probably head out so...” He buttoned up the bottom of his shirt and moved for the door even as he heard your somber sigh fall from your lips. 

“Javi...”

He wasn’t mad. He wanted to be mad like you had been mad last night, to get back at you, to feel like the rug wasn’t completely pulled out from underneath him but he couldn’t even come close to working himself up. He just felt sick. Sad and sick and incapable of doing anything but getting away from you. 

Even if away from you was the last place he wanted to be. 

“Javi...” Your voice caught him at the door, his hand hanging on the handle with a hopeful pause. But your voice caught in your throat as it began to tighten, your eyes somehow more somber and more exhausted than before. 

Did you want to fight? Did you want to argue? You caught him there, you had to have something to say, something you wanted from him. 

There was something caught on your tongue, something you just couldn’t get out. 

But your stare fell and he was pretty sure you weren’t going to get it out. 

“Goodbye, Querida.”

It all hurt. The memory, the moment, the beating sun down his back as the afternoon ticked away and the bank showed no relevant movement. 

He missed you. It had barely been a day and he missed you, worse than before, much worse.

But he had to forget about it, because the door opened and Jurado came out and the game was on. 

A game that didn’t stop until he was on the plane and in Miami, and even then, it really didn’t stop, it just changed form. Now, he had to find Jurado’s wife, he had to get her to the ambassador from thousands of miles away, and his team at her apartment hadn’t seen her and she wan’t at the embassy yet and...

And they got her. He lost her. 

This was his only actual lead, this was all he had now and he lost her. 

He had to have called the embassy a thousand times in the span of the hour and still nothing. This was all his fault. He lost you, he lost her, this whole case was going to fall apart, there was no way Jurado was going to speak to him now...

He had to find her. 

To save her, to save this case, this was everything now—

This was what you did. You had a whole program dedicated to human trafficking run by drug lords, anarchists and communists. Or you had one.

He’d gotten glances at the work you were doing, beyond what you ever told him about, probably more than he should have but it was a mere byproduct of the simple moments he spent admiring you.

You were good at your job.

There were maps and photographs, all marked with numbers and dates. Scribbled upon napkins filed together from different establishments, clearly left over from surveillance stakeouts much like the ones he missed. A matchbook from a hotel in Peru with a name written on the fold, copied police files Brazil you easily read and marked up in distinct red pen... maybe he looked more than he should have.

“These girls...” you had mentioned one night, “thousands go missing every day and if I’m lucky I can find a few dozen.”

Collapsing back against his couch, you blew out a heavy breath and began rubbing over the indents your work clothes left in your skin, kicking your feet onto his coffee table. He couldn’t help but admire you as you did, but quickly snapped from his thoughts as you continued on.

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees from the chair adjacent to the couch, sipping mindlessly at his drink. All his focus on you and your words.

“The guns are easier to track, the weapons leave a trace, they show up in cities and we see the bloodbaths but these girls just disappear and this asshole just makes more money.” You scoffed, turning your head towards him.

“And Stechner has you watching me...” he mocked, flipping his files shut and standing up, taking a careful step towards you at the couch before settling down on his knees in front of you.

“I’m not doing a very good job of that either...”

You leaned forward, brushing his hair out and away from his face and he quickly dropped his hand to your thigh.

“I disagree.” His voice was just a whisper now as he dragged you in closer, “let’s go to bed, hmm?”

“No, I’ve got to finish this—“

He cut you off with a kiss before lifting himself off the ground and falling back with a groan onto the couch. “Okay.”

Next to you on the couch, he fell asleep, and when you finally finished, however many hours later, you woke him and took him to bed—

He missed you.

This wasn’t how he imagined talking to you again, but he needed this lead. It was his only lead. He had to, and he knew it, but it didn’t stop his hand from shaking as he picked up the phone in the Miami DEA offices. 

“Hello?” It was an unknown number, of course.

There was something about your voice because you didn’t know it was him, he didn’t know what it was but it certainly wasn’t the heavily burdened tone you had as he left before. 

It just sounded like you. Just you. And god, did that hurt. 

“I need your help...”

“Javi?” Your voice quirked up on the other end, “Where are you calling me from?”

“Miami,” he sighed into the receiver, relieved that you were still even on the call. “I need your help.”

“What’s going on...”

“Christina Jurado, she was taken by Cali and my guy won’t talk without her. 5′8, blonde hair, American...” He glanced down to the desk in front of him, the picture of her in the file open next to the stack of papers he was going to have to sign for this whole thing. “I don’t know if you want to help or—”

“Javi, this isn’t about that. Let me get into it, okay.” He could hear you moving to get up, “Are you heading back now?”

“Yeah I—”

“I’ll meet you at the embassy.” You sighed, clearly moving around your apartment. He could hear files moving, bottles clanking, maybe even your feet pattering around but when you spoke, your voice filled his ears up entirely. “I’ve gotta use the phone, Javi...”

Right. He needed to hang up.

It had been a day and he already missed your voice. This was real heartbreak, and he had never felt so guilty. 

“Yeah, thank you.” He huffed out, pressing the phone closer to his ear as if it brought you closer to him. 

“Bye, love you.” You said quickly.

Then your breath caught.

And the line went dead. 

—

tags:

@the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @ms-dont-care @leo-moon @tiffdawg @readsalot73 @way-too-addicted-to-anime @keeper0fthestars @adikaofmandalore @opheliaelysia @magneticbucky @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @larakasser @littlevodika @mandoren @mistermiraclee @rogueonestan @kaetastic @maytheglitter

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #dark side

[mstrumpeter]

“I’m glad we both have found back to you.”

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader (chapter four)

So finally here's my fourth and last chapter of my little fic, sincerely sorry for the highly cheesy ending.

Word Count: 1,800

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies.

Warnings: slightly swearing, age gap, jealousy, fluff

Summary: You met a handsome musician and his band, including a surprise form your past.

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

A few days had passed and Kelsey spent another afternoon at the Soul Food Cafe like usual, at her usual table, with her usual order. She was scribbling on some sheet music, some fingering tabs of notes she simply couldn’t remember. Alan will be fuming when he sees that. She softly chuckled to herself. She took a big bite of her chopped cheese when a man, dressed in a black suit, black hat, black boots and sunglasses walked by. He noticed her sitting behind the window and quickly turned around on his heel, walked in and took a seat at her table. It was Jake. “Mind if I join you?” 

“Well you already have.”, Kelsey chuckled. “I’m glad I found you here. Listen, I’m gonna keep things short. Elwood’s my brother and I love him more than anything else. Which is why I don’t want him to get hurt, alright? I don’t know what’s going on between you and him or you and Mr.Fabulous and neither of that is any of my business. I do wanna make one thing clear. Don’t play with any of them, especially not with Elwood. He is a good guy, always trying to do the right thing okay? So I don’t know but make up your mind as soon as possible, before anyone gets hurt badly.” He does really care for Elwood, stepping in for him like this. “I got you.” Kelsey nodded her head. “I don’t want anyone of them getting hurt either.” “Good.”, Jake said satisfied. “Guess I see you around then.” He shortly implied taking off his hat with a smile on his lips and left the diner.

The next day Alan and Kelsey had another lesson, although Alan really didn’t want to go. He missed her like crazy but he also was angry at her for being intimate with Elwood. Technically he didn’t have any reason to be jealous though, so he told himself to act mature and went to her place. “So how does the practise come along?” “Okay, I guess” Kelsey shrugged her shoulders as both walked into the living room. They both took a seat while she softly blew into her mouthpiece. “I practised the intro of ‘Minnie the Moocher’. Well, of course not the intro YOU play just the regular melody.” He sighed. “How about you play those etudes I told you to practise.” “Yeah sure.. but I’m pretty decent on Minnie..-“ “The scales, Kelsey!”, he said while grabbing the beginner’s book. Kelsey started whinging impatiently “C’mon you know how much I love that song!” ”You weren’t supposed to practise Minnie the Moocher!” Alan said in an angry tone. “I know, I know but playing songs is so much for fun!” Kelsey tried to explain herself. “Look this isn’t about fun!” He was fuming as he got up from his chair. “If you want my help DO WHAT I’M TELLIN’ YOU TO DO!” The girl looked at him confused. “Well, I did…” “Seems to me like you didn’t!” “What’s the matter with you today?” Alan didn’t say anything but turned his back to her, looking out of the window. He was hurt but didn’t want her to see that. Slowly it dawned upon her. “Wait - is this about Elwood… and me?” The man standing at the window took a deep breath. “Look, I know we only kissed once but I’m sorry… I can’t handle hearing about you fooling around with someone else.” “Hold on.. Did Elwood say we had sex?” “Well, he didn’t literally say that. He didn’t need to. ’A gentleman does not boast of his conquests.’, Alan said in a sarcastic tone. “But c’mon we all know what that means.” He turned around to face her. “Whatever it may mean usually, nothing happened between him and me.” Kelsey instantly regretted using the word “nothing”. “Okay ‘nothing’ might be a lie, I’m not gonna lie to you. We kissed but that was it.” He looked at her for a minute. On the hand he was relieved they hadn’t been in bed together but on the other hand he still was jealous about their kiss. “I don’t wanna lose you, Alan. I didn’t know how much I’ve missed you until I saw you again.” He gave her a little smile. “So, Minnie the Moocher, huh?” She gave him an apologising grin. “How about I play it for you once and then we go back to your boring exercises?” 

The mood still was kind of tensed and awkward, especially as their lesson had come to an end. Alan stood in the doorway, completely sunken into her eyes. He grabbed her little hand and leaned into her at slow pace. She obviously knew what he was up to. And ooh how badly she wanted to give herself to him. She missed his soft lips, his hands on her and his scent. But before getting involved with any of the two musicians, she needed to find out what her heart wanted. The girl stared into his eyes, watching him coming closer and she know she shouldn’t but when he pressed his lips on hers, she closed her eyes, kissing him back hasty. It was a passionate and fervent kiss. She was yearning for his taste and a warm shiver run down her back when he cupped her face with both hands until he grabbed her hips pushing her a step back inside, finally bringing her to her senses. No, no. Stop it! She rapidly pulled herself away, looking down at her feet. “Alan we - I shouldn't do this. Give me some time, will you?” She looked at him ashamed. He exhaled, “Of course…” He gave her a smile but in his eyes she could see his frustration and pain. Obviously gutted he turned around and walked down the stairs as she watched him leave, disgusted by herself.

Kelsey knew she needed to find out what her heart wanted and that some distance would help her with that. So she decided to take a break from Chicago and booked a short trip back home to Scotland, were she still had her grandparents left. She told Elwood and Alan that she went to Glasgow to visit her family but both musicians knew it wasn’t just that. She was sure the distance and distraction would help her, a nice trip to the Highlands and the fresh air would clear her head and open her heart.

Kelsey arrived at the O’Hare airport somewhat early. She had often flown before but every time she did she still was a little nervous she’d be late and miss her flight. She checked in her luggage and passed the time with some reading and listening to music. Finally it was time to get on board and as she found her seat she sunk in it with a weary sigh. She looked out of the window, slowly closing her eyes. Jake was right though, she needed to make up her mind as soon as possible or rather her heart. Elwood and Mr. Fabulous were so different really, needless to say both were extreme  good looking.

Elwood was the cool, witty but also kind of mysterious and dark guy. With him everything seemed like a big adventure, even the boring things. Because of that very same hazardous lifestyle though she feared he could end up in jail any moment.

Alan was the more settled one. Even though he worked as the maître d’ at the Chez Paul, he lavished time on the band. Whenever he was around, Kelsey felt like she could calm down and settle from the turmoil that was surrounding her. They shared a past, a deeper connection emotionally and of course their love for the same instrument. 

Soon she would leave everything behind, even if it was for 10 days only. The job, her flat, the city, the hustle and bustle and… She rapidly opened her eyes as she realised she’d be over 3600 miles away from him. Was it that easy? Almost carrying out a threat of leaving the country, not being with him for over a week? She jumped up from her seat, making her way to the doors of the aeroplane. “Miss, I’m afraid the boarding has completed and the gates will close any minute.”, the stewardess was standing in her way. “But - I can’t be on this flight!” When another passenger was coming on board Kelsey gave the woman a dirty look and quickly squeezed past her running to the doors. Luckily she just could slip through them before they were closed. She ran downstairs, though the entrance hall and jumped in the first cab she could find. During the ride her right leg was bouncing up and down of excitement or nervousness, she couldn’t tell. As she finally stood in front of his door, she took a deep breath before knocking. No one opened, so she knocked again. Still nothing. Kelsey sighed and turned around disappointedly. As she started to walk away from the door she heard a familiar voice. “Kelsey?” She wheeled around. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Scotland?” “I am.. I mean, I was.” She stammered. He gave her a confused look. “Oh I’m sorry, why don’t you come in.. I just got out of the shower and needed some time to put on clothes before answering the door.”, the musician apologised to her. Only now she noticed his dark hair was all wet and a few strands fell into his face. In the rush he had buttoned his shirt wrongly, allowing her a glance at his firm, slightly hairy chest. “So what happened? Did you miss your plane?” Kelsey smacked her lips when she forced her look to leave his chest and search for his eyes. “No, no… I - I was on the plane when I realised my heart already knows what it wants … and whom. So I needed to get the hell out of there, before that plane was leaving and I got here as quickly as I could. “I see. And that you’re seeing me first is a good or bad thing?”, the man asked unsettled. “I’m ONLY seeing you, you little dork.”, she said playfully and smiled. “It really is silly but when I imagined you’d be at the other end of the world for a week, I realised I’m won’t be able to take this. And I feared to loose you. You must think I’m a coward for wanting to leave the city.” “Frankly I’m just glad you’re here with me.” He softly brushed a curl out of her face. “I love you Kelsey.”, he confessed to her. “I love you, too, Alan.” And she gave her Mr. Fabulous a slow, sizzling kiss.

#Blues Brothers #Blues Brothers fandom #blues brothers fanfiction #Alan Rubin x Reader #Alan Rubin x fem!Reader #Elwood Blues #Mr.Fabulous #Alan Rubin

[sgt-morgan]

Impulse (Hozier imagine)

AN: another Hozier fix cause I know what I’m about.

Warnings: slight angst, sickening fluff.

You were never known to be a careful woman. You made hasty decisions, you were wild, untamed, so to say. For those close to you, it was completely unsurprising. Andrew was the least surprised. Your man, partner in crime, confidante, etc. he often played the role of your common sense. He was used to your compulsive decisions and wild outings that often lead to trouble. He would often try to dissuade you from rash decisions with varying degrees of success. Tonight seemed to be no exception. There was a festival in Louisiana, just outside of New Orleans. Brandi Carlile, Margot Price, Gary Clarke Jr., Andy, and You. A troublesome crew to say the least. You and Brandi especially, you two were thick as thieves. You two hit it off the day you met and when you are together, you’re a recipe for disaster. So Andy knew he was in for it.

“Andy? Lovie?” You scrambled onto his tour bus a tangled mess of hair, flowery fabric, and limbs. “Andy? Honey, I have an Idea!” You threw yourself at him, your tiny curvaceous frame not even reaching his collar bones. Andrew caught you with a chuckle. You always arrived to him like a breath of fresh air. A burst of sunlight. Your smile blinding him. However, just like the sun, you could burn. Andrew knew he shouldn’t fly too close, but he loved the heat.

“ Famous last words.” Andrew chuckled as he set you back down and snatched your now crooked sunglasses off your face. “What is it?” You huffed,annoyed as he carefully tried (in vain if he was honest) to smooth your hair back into place.

“Well, with that attitude mister, I’m not sure if I WANT to tell you.” You pout up at him. Andy chuckles again as he sees your playfully offended face. He pouts back at you and playfully placed your ridiculous pink heart sunglasses over his eyes. He stoops just slightly to your hight and pushes a quick playful kiss you your jutted lip. He looks ridiculous his too tall frame half squatted arms out for a hug the ridiculousness of it all got you. You break, giggling at his actions, flopping into his seat, heaving his guitar into your arms, and plucking random riffs. He sat across from you, admiring the way your hands flit across the strings.

“I’m gonna have Brandi play a song with me!” You say your eyes twinkling with Mischief. Grin looking like the cat who ate the canary.

“Seem’s fairly standard for you and Brandi.” Andrew said confused. He knew there was more up your sleeve. You started playing the familiar chords to in a week. Your grin getting more and more devilish the longer he seemed to take to catch onto the concept.

“You know, I could be your special guest, if you ask nicely.” She shrugged casually as if she didn’t just ask him to invite her into his very public life like it was nothing.

They were not public, it kept things simple. Not that Andy would be upset by the idea of going public with you, he just wasn’t sure that you wanted to go public with HIM. It would almost ruin your mystic public persona. To the public, you were an enigma wrapped in a riddle. You seemed to have just appeared out of some swap somewhere dressed like Stevie Nicks, magic in your wake and a song on your lips. The swing of your hips ruined men’s lives and the fact that all of that wasn’t currently being claimed by a man burned their souls. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to give that up just yet.

“I am certain our fans wouldn’t mind.” You shrugged shifting back to mindless plucking. Thinking about all of the possibilities of letting the world know your secret. An album? A tour? You had wanted to tell the world for a while. You’d been planning for the future for forever, but you wanted to tell the world together, so you waited until you were in the same city. You loved your mystique, but for Andy you were just... you. You liked it that way, and you thought he did too. Then, it came crashing down.

“Uh, babe? Are you sure? We’d be confirming a lot of rumors and I-“ you stoped playing, your heart stuttering at his words. He didn’t want to. He was saying no. He was saying no to you. The possibilities seemed like a dim distant memory. A future planed to hastily.

“Oh, I uh, I guess your right.” You said quickly getting up and placing the guitar back on his seat. Struggling to hold onto your tears a little. Noting how very quickly a moment can turn sour. “I’ll just-“ Andy knew then he’d not spoken quickly enough. You hastened to leave.

“No, (Y/N/N), that’s not what I-“ he tried and failed to reach for you before you reached the door.

“No! It’s fine! I get it, I’ll just see you later bye!” You sniffed and slammed the door slipping your sunglasses on and plastering on your best million watt smile before someone noticed the tears.

——————————

Andy tried, and failed to look for you before your set. He saw you with Brandi listening to Margot Price on your Snapchat, but by the time he got to the stage you were taking shots with those women at Gary Clark Jr. and smiling as brightly as possible. It seemed like you were always three steps ahead of him. He waited for through the next two sets, and stuck around in the photography pit to listen to Brandi’s set with his band. They cheered when you came on and sang a spirited rendition of ‘Raise Hell.’ His heart was in his throat. Andrew ran backstage after the set but you were nowhere in sight.

“Brandi!” He yelled spotting the familiar brunette handing her guitar to a roadie. “Brandi, I need your help.” He begged, looking at the slightly older woman with all of the pathetic grovel of a scolded puppy.

“Ah there he is, pathetic bud, that girl really loves you.” She chuckled in her familiar hell raising fashion the definition of a woman with all the right cards in her hands. Royal flush. “She told me what happened, but I’m guessing that little speed demon didn’t stick around to hear you out.” She smiled throwing an arm around his waist. “ So, Tell me how I can help you .” Andrew knew he loved this woman.

—————

All afternoon you were the picture of pathetic. You drank and watched everyone’s set a safe distance away from Andrew. You wallowed in it. However, as it got closer and closer to your time to preform you started to lighten up a bit. You loved the stage, it was the perfect place to spill your guts. You could tell the world your secrets but disguised in a perfect harmony.

Your set was killer, you could hear the crowd singing back at you. You could feel the giddy rush of adrenaline from your band. You were on fire, every note hitting your audience and lifting heartache off your weary shoulders. Then the time came for your duet. You started playing the opening chords to ‘In My Life’ a Beatles classic, one of your favorite songs to cover. You decided to cover it with Brandi. You strum and wait for Brandi to start singing. You are surprised however, to hear another voice.

In your surprise, you’re made mute. Your backup singer Layla announces him.

“Ladies and gents, Hozier!”

He flows out like a Greek god, he’s dressed to the nines, opting for a black suit tonight, black shirt still slightly unbuttoned. His Irish accent lilts the words to the tune. Your world is rocked. Is he really here? Is he really serenading you with your favorite song as he lovingly stares at you with those big doe eyes of his? Your so distracted by how good he looks and by how sweet it is that he’s here, making it up to you, that you almost don’t notice that the song is almost over. He finishes out the song and presses his forehead to yours lovingly as the crowd cheers behind him.

“Well ladies and gentlemen,” he says all charm, all class. “That was supposed to be Brandi Carlile, but I wanted to sing that song to the love of my life, I hope your all okay with that!” He smiles as the crowd absolutely erupted. You’re still struck mute staring at this man, this wonderful, crazy, stupid man. “Now em, if you don’t mind me taking a little more of your time, I’m gonna kiss her real quick.” He says that and you snap back to attention giggling and gaping like a fish trying to get a grasp on the situation.

“What the hell Andy?” You giggle as he places his arms around your waist. “This is crazy! What were you thinking!”

“Decided to take a page out of your book, be impulsive, Now kiss me.” You obliged. The crowd went insane, and so did you.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #hozier x reader #hozier fic #hozier imagine #music

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Playing Games (baon)

Summary: In the aftermath of Internal Disputes, Sans wasn't alone, not when his own thoughts could be haunting him.This wasn't how things were supposed to work, none of it, and there was nothing he would do but wait.

Tags:  Kustard, Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Major Character Injury, Hospitals, References to Collaring

Notes:  Now, I want you to know that I say this with the greatest sincerity possible, but all you people that got me shipping kustard? I hate you all.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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The hospital chairs weren’t bad when it came to comfort, especially if you ran a little shorter in the pants than average. Not that it would’ve mattered much if they weren’t, Sans was well-trained in how to get to sleep in any and all places, knew exactly how to curl up in a folding chair for maximum comfort, no matter how hot or cold the climate got around him.

Tonight, he was only too tired to sleep. That didn’t matter either, he’d been worse off plenty of times before. Only thing that mattered was that Paps was the one sleeping, and that was enough of a topsy-turvy to make Sans want to check they hadn’t missed an exit and were still in the right universe.

Probably were; from what Stretch said, when you first took a sideways step into another world, you could feel the wrongness of it in your bones. His bones felt shaky and sore, a fine litter of bruises all along his side where he’d hit the asphalt, but none of them were sending out Morse code squawking that the sky was falling, so they were all right there. Chicken Little would have to wait for another day, though maybe he’d check in with Stretch’s little flock, see how their bones were feeling--

Sans ran a weary hand down his face, smelling the lingering smoky char. Fuck, he was tired.

In the hospital bed surrounded by machines and IV’s, Papyrus was lying perfectly still, and it was so fucking wrong to see. Even when he was sleeping Paps usually twisted and turned like he was training for the next Olympics. That little quirk cost Sans plenty of his own sleep when they were kids, nights huddled together for warmth beneath a threadbare blanket and all the while his baby bones bro tried to sleepwalk a watusi up his spine.

Sometimes Sans missed that little kid.

The fancy suit Papyrus always wore when he was playing ambassador was gone, replaced by a hospital issue gown that would give a peepshow of his pelvis when he stood. His old clothes were past the dry cleaning stage, scorched all the way up his spine and yeah, that sight was gonna haunt Sans’s dreams a coupla times in the near future, as was the bitter taste of his own soul in his throat when he crawled over to him, all the dazed moans and screams around them as he clung to his brother, frantically checking him over.

Yeah, let’s close that scene and set the memory box aside for those upcoming dreams to rifle through. No need to re-live the nightmare during the daytime, too.

Sans shifted in the chair, pulling his bare, bony feet up onto the cushion. He hadn’t changed his own clothes yet; about all he’d managed was kicking off his shoes, his filthy socks draped over them like the peels of the world’s most disgusting fruit. His travel outfit was a lil’ different than his bros, a hoodie and shorts were about as fancy as he cared to get, maybe a pair of sunglasses if he was feeling particularly feisty about it.

That getup was fine for someone on security team, something Papyrus very much was not, and Sans was planning to have a nice, long chat about that with him whenever his brother finally woke up.

He was gonna wake up and Sans was gonna be here waiting when he did, thanks.

As if magnetically drawn, a compass endlessly searching for north, Sans’s eye lights slid back to the bed towards his sleeping brother. His skull was still abnormally pale against the pillowcase, a revealing sign of magic drain despite the IV steadily dripping at his bedside. So very pale, except for the fine line of a fresh crack running down the side of his skull. Barely visible, really, someone who didn’t know any better might mistake it for a cranial suture.

Sans knew better.

It’d been a lot worse before Tori started in on it, crawling over to them through the rubble on the tarmac, ignoring shouts to stay down and her normally pristine white fur had been filthy, hands already caked with crimson marrow even as she reached out to Papyrus. The ugly wound Sans could barely stand to look at vanished beneath a thick green glow and that little crack was all that was left, a souvenir of Papyrus’s first trip to California. His brother had slumped to the ground after, those thready, pained moans fading. He’d been unconscious ever since.

He was gonna be fine; both Tori and Blue told Sans’s that over and over on the plane ride home, gonna be just fine. He was out cold was all, used up his magic down to the last dregs generating enough of a shield to cover himself and two other people besides. Right now it was nothing but a waiting game, Sans moving his pawn across the board until he landed on the ‘good morning, sunshine’ spot.

Just fine, sure, and Sans believed them. But he really wished he could roll doubles right now and speed up the process.

Most of his thoughts were either being firmly suppressed or focused the still figure laying on the bed, but Sans did manage to spare one or two leftover balls from the ones he was mentally juggling to wondered tiredly how Stretch was holding up. He’d been eating shit sandwiches himself this weekend, and now honey boy was topping it off with big ol’ slice of disaster pie. At least Sans had the luxury of being with his bro from the get-go. Trying to picture how he’d feel knowing only the bare details of what’d happened sent a cold frisson through his soul. That was enough for him to offer sending Edge out in the first ambulance; at least he was with his brother, Edge and Blue were both stuck in limbo all the way home.

Besides, he’d gotten to see plenty of the show on the flight home in the moments when Edge wavered into brief wakefulness. No wonder he never wanted to smoke weed or even drink much. They’d doped him to the gills without mercy, and now Sans was gonna have to live with an eternity of regret that the loss of his phone meant he didn’t get a chance to record Edge massacring a heartfeltly sung rendition of ‘I Want It That Way’.

Since Tori and Blue were no fun at all and refused to do it either, seemed the best option was to send Edge out and hope Stretch got a front row seat to the second act.

That show had been a helluva lot better than the inflight movie Edge’d given them on the way out. Stoic and distant since the second he’d gotten on the plane, a fuckton more so than usual. Wasn’t until Blue snuck in a whisper to Sans what was up that he got it. Anniversary tomorrow, yeah, husband back home while he got stuck playing lead babysitter with Sans as backup ‘cause Red was off saving the world or catching an early bird sale, some bullshit, anyway.

(not thinking about red, better not to, better to not)

Stretch probably pitched a bitchfit about Edge tagging along without him and Sans hadn’t registered to vote in this election, but he was gonna go with Stretch as his candidate. There was no good reason he could think of to make Stretch stay home past paperwork and pissiness, and the fact that Blue thought his Papy staying home was the better choice told him all he needed to about that.

They’d been Aboveground for a few years now and Stretch was nowhere near as bad off as he’d been back when they’d first shown up on the doorstep back in Snowdin. He’d gone the good boy route, got himself a therapist and everything. He was happy, anyone could see that, and HP issues aside, it was ‘bout time to cut the apron strings let Stretch mess up his own cooking.

Edge was better about it than Blue, but looked like he was still trying to play sous chef ‘cause Stretch wasn’t on the plane. Their fearless leader had put up a good front, but any moron could see he was upset, and Sans wasn’t just any idiot on the street. Whatever his reasoning, Edge obviously wasn’t happy about leaving his honey behind.

Welp, Sans had a feeling Edge wasn’t super eager to add Stretch to the roster now. Not after spending some quality time laying on the crumbled tarmac waiting for a stretcher, banged up and bandaged the best they could manage on the fly while the Human side of the contingency ran around squawking out orders, getting everything on lockdown. Trying to keep everything on the down-low until they could get a proper press release in order, yeah, that was the right procedure.

Sans still didn’t have a single qualm about slipping Edge that phone so he could let Stretch know he was okay. ‘Course he’d probably scared him shitless the way he started rambling on like it was his deathbed confession hour instead of just saying ‘alive and kicking’, oops, but eh, couldn’t win ‘em all.

Sans wasn’t winning a lot of ‘em lately.

The stack of blankets were tucked around Papyrus with generous care, but Sans got up and went over to him, anyway, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles in covers. His hands were beneath the blanket, the better to keep them toasty warm. Probably for the best, it was bad enough having to look at his skull, that single ragged crack. If he had to keep looking at his bro’s bruised, battered knuckles, Sans might go nuts.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was his duty to play big bro, his, he’d taken that on years ago while he was still in his own striped shirt, his very first job. He was the one in Security, he was the one who was supposed to fucking protect, and even if Sans thought maybe he’d fucked that up a time or two before, suspected that there was a memory he didn’t possess, a

(reset)

past that wasn’t theirs. But he’d been keeping up their end of the bargain since his bro decided to be an Ambassador and Paps wasn’t supposed to break it, he fucking wasn’t—

The door creaking made Sans jerk, heat rushing to his fingertips in a heady blurt of magic for an attack that stopped forming the moment he saw who it was. He took a long, slow breath, shaking away his exhausted agitation the best he could, cause he was going to need every wit that hadn’t been blown away in the explosion to deal with this.

Red was standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. The light pouring in behind him cast him in shadow except for the smoldering glow of his eye lights burning out from his sockets.

Sans only ignored his awful horror movie impression and wandered back to his chair, crawling up to settle on the cushion with a weary sigh.

"you done with skulking around trying not to talk to me?" Sans asked. He didn't mean to sound as pissy as he did, but did Red really think he wouldn't notice? On the plane, outside the ambulance, even here, Red'd been all over, watching but not getting close.

No answer came, no sardonic comeback, no angry snarl. Red stepped into the room and closed the door behind him with disturbing care. Probably only playing at kindness for Papyrus’s sake, but something about his expression was unnerving, the lines of his face laid out in a way that Sans didn’t know.

He came close to the chair without reaching, only stood there, hands visibly fisted in his pockets. Crimson eye lights resting on Sans, but more like Red was looking through, like Sans wasn’t even there and Red’s gaze was laser-focused on the wall behind him.

“came to tell you i’m taking off for a while,” Red said, every word filled with deliberate indifference, “dunno how long.”

Sans only nodded. “yeah. thought you might.”

“wanted to see if you’d keep an eye on that fucking cat of mine.” Again, nothing but cool detachment, Red speaking to the wall and expecting answers.

He made no mention of asking Edge and Sans didn’t either. “sure, why not, i could use a few more scrapes for my collection. maybe i can trip over him on the stairs, add a few broken bones to the tab.”

There, a veritable hit; Red winced visibly, the distance in his gaze wavering. It was almost fascinating, really, watching with his own detached interest as Red tried to force it back. Must be a sign of his own shaken control, all of it unraveling, snapping into its proper place as he actually looked at Sans.

Sans had a pretty good idea what Red was seeing. The force of the explosion had thrown them all to the ground in spite of any shields, leaving behind a nice collection of mottled bruises and bloody scrapes to share around. His own pain had been secondary, unnoticed until they’d been shoved back on the plane for a ride straight back home. He’d been sitting next to Paps when Tori came over, watching the metronome precision of the rise and fall of his rib cage like only the force of his will was keeping his brother breathing.

The cold wetness against his skull had stung and it was only then that he noticed his own hurts. He’d sat there and concentrated on keeping Papyrus breathing, let Tori gently clean him up the best that she could.

So he didn’t have any illusions about what kind of eye candy he was right now. Another note of interest that Red didn’t seem to be able to look away, the minute flicker of his eye lights moving as they traced over those bruises and scrapes.

“i need to go,” Red repeated, but that indifference was wavering, seeping away, leaving behind something that was almost pleading. Huh. How about that. “i gotta. this is my fault. i’ve gotta—"

“listen to the ego on you,” Sans snorted. “even you can't know everything.”

“no, you don't fucking get it.” Shattered desperation, like nothing Red ever showed. Seemed like those walls Red kept up weren’t quite as impervious as Sans always thought; words were spilling out of him, vomited out in pained rush. “i didn't have shit going on here. i didn't come along on this trip because i knew you'd go without me and i…i wanted you away. for a couple days. wanted some time to get my head on straight and i didn’t give a shit who i pissed off to get it, i—"

Yeah, Sans could believe that. Fucked over his own brother and Stretch, and why not? It was only to get out of a Security detail that would’ve left him sharing a hotel room with Sans, left them out in the open in front of everyone. Made them obvious in a way that somehow Red didn’t think they’d been before, fooling no one but himself, but it was a lie Red somehow needed.

Knowing that was a different sort of bruise, on his soul instead of his bones, and every word out of Red was giving it a rough press. It was satisfying in a strange way, to know Red was panicking over him, made him want to feel it again.

"all right,” Sans said calmly.

"no, it ain't all right!" Red snarled, his voice cracking, breaking, breathing too heavily. "if I hadn't've fucked off--"

"then you would've been there instead of edge and it would all have happened the same way." He felt oddly serene, floating in his own peculiar calm. "you're one person. even you can't be everywhere and know everything. ‘sides, if that’s your fault, this is mine.” He flung his hand out like an attack at the hospital room, towards his brother lying unconscious in front of him. “’m getting sloppy, should’ve reacted faster.”

Red twitched, stepping closer, grasping that line of thought with eager gratitude, “reacted to what? how did my brother know? toriel ain’t sure and neither was blue—"

“intent.” Sans shivered, remembering the prickle of it washing over him, virulent hate that came a bare second too late for him to react. The memory of it made him remember something else, a delirious question forgotten in the aftermath, “didn’t think edge could beat me when it came to sensing intent.”

Red waved that off. “he’s been practicing ever since andy got turned into a pincushion outside that chinese place. what else?”

Of course he was, Edge probably spent his lunch hour wandering the streets to see how much hate he could pick up, that was a filling meal. “it was coming from the driver. edge was a lot closer to the car, he must’ve felt it before i did. he yelled for everyone to get down but by then, paps already had me face first on the asphalt.” He shrugged, trying not to think too deeply of the wash of vicious heat, the sound of it, the screams, fuck, all the screams— “after that, it gets a little explody. i can still hear it a little, it’s like listening to a seashell lodged in my head. doc said it might take a day or two for the echo to fade out.”

“that it?” Red’s gaze bore into him.

“that’s all i’ve got,” Sans drawled sourly. He turned in the seat, lounging with deliberate casualness, his legs hanging over the arm. “that’s the shit, the whole shit, and nothing but the shit. so that happened and our bros got hurt, yeah, but they’re gonna be fine. so, now, you wanna take off and go headhunting? you go on ahead. play your little game, start following your clues. just remember after paps wakes up and i can see he’s okay? i’m coming to find you.”

Red had been nodding along and Sans could see the moment realization bled through, the indignant rasp as he snapped out, “the fuck you are!”

“the fuck i’m not,” Sans countered, tauntingly. He ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting his own sweat, the bitterness of smoky residue as he goaded, “how are you gonna stop me? ask edge to chase me down while he plays hop along cassidy on some crutches?” Fury was sparking in Red’s eye lights like a firecracker as Sans went on with fractured glee, “he’ll be a coupla weeks recovering, you know. even you harping on him to get up and play protector ain’t gonna change that. gonna tattle on me to asgore, gonna lock me up? tie me to your bed?” Sans tapped a finger against his cheek bone pensively, a mockery of thinking, “or maybe i won’t go after you at all. maybe i’ll see about playing a little on my own.”

Ah, that, that right there. Sans could feel the impotent fury rolling off of Red, about the only time he couldn’t get it up, hands flexing as if he wished there was something in them and for a distant moment, he thought Red might actually attack him and wouldn’t that make for an interesting problem to explain.

Then it was gone, all that anger and frustration swallowed into nothingness. Interesting how Red managed to break without so much as changing expression. Must be a gift.

“you win,” Red said abruptly.

“we playin’ something?” Sans asked lightly,

“only with our lives. ain’t like anything important.” There was a sharp prick of frustrated anger in that, wasn’t all gone, then, only banked. A point Red proved by stalking forward to take Sans’s chin in two sharp fingers, yanked it up. Crimson eye lights searched Sans’s face and he couldn’t begin to wonder what they hoped to find. “you even know what you’re getting into here?”

“i’ve been fucking you for over a year.”

“i ain’t talking about fucking.” Those searing eye lights pierced deeply into him, crawling over the depths of his soul. “do you know?”

Deliberately, Sans lifted his chin more, exposing the bones of his cervical vertebrae. Red’s gaze dropped, lingered over them with hypnotic weight, and his fingers followed, coiling around Sans’s throat like a metaphor.

“if you like it, then you shoulda put a collar on it,” Sans said, soft and singsong. “i’ve been fucking you for over a year, fucking around three times that, you think i don’t know? collar me, claim me. may as well, i ain’t going anywhere, anyways.”

Red shuddered, lurching forward another step and his fingers tightening convulsively, not quite painlessly. “collar you? like you’d be fucking obedient.”

“from what i saw of you wearing one, i always figured the obedience part was an optional add-on. besides, at least i’m housebroken.”

The thin fingers around his throat tightened again, so very close to choking and Sans only shivered, yearning into that grip even as Red whispered with low, virulent intensity, “should’ve known i couldn’t keep dodging you forever.”

Red leaned in, but not for a kiss. His mouth was suddenly hot on Sans’s collarbone, dragging over I, uncaring of the sweat and filth coating him. Sharp teeth nicked tantalizingly against bone and Sans couldn’t hold back a cry, edged with a near sob because he wasn’t supposed to get this, he wasn’t, wasn’t supposed to have this suddenly thrust into his lap like a gift. His magic gave stirring an unfortunate try, but he was thankfully too tired to demo how much his psyche was absolutely going for the sweet threat in that touch.

"i wanna to keep you," Red muttered, mostly to himself, something like desperation curling around every word. Sans answered anyway, mumbling mindlessly.

"okay. okay, yeah."

"wanna keep anyone else from touching you,” whispered against him, a promise, a threat, Sans didn’t know. Red’s tongue was winding around his clavicles, sharp fingertips tearing Sans’s t-shirt, exposing more. “wanna put my collar you, warn the whole world that you're mine."

"yeah," Sans breathed brokenly. His hands move of their own accord, not bothering to ask for permission as they clutch at Red’s shoulders, blunt fingertips digging into the leather of his coat with creaking force.

"That sounds very romantic and potentially disturbing, but may I ask if you could do that in your bedroom and not here in front of me?"

Sans came pretty fucking close to kicking Red to the floor as he jerked up to see his brother’s sockets open, blinking at them owlishly. It wasn’t even a thought to scramble down and go to him; reaching for Papyrus was as automatic as drawing a breath. His brother reached back and if his hands were shaking a little, if there was something tremulous and almost fragile in that touch, Sans didn’t care.

His brother was awake and reaching for him, pulling him up on the bed and into his arms.

“Hush, there’s no need to cry,” Papyrus scolded gently, but he held on to Sans with enough force to get his bruises singing out an Ava Maria. “I’m perfectly all right and even if I’m not, you are, so that’s fine.”

“that is so not fine, paps, it is completely the opposite of fine,” Sans wiped away embarrassing flood of tears, sniveling humiliatingly into his sleeve even as Papyrus flailed and tried to reach for the box of Kleenex on the bedside table. “me and red are the ones working in the security department, we—”

He turned back to the chair, trailing off when he found it empty.

Well, shit.

“know something, bro?” Sans sighed out, even as he settled into his brother’s arms. “that whole vanishing thing is fucking annoying when i’m not the one doing it.”

Papyrus smoothed a hand down his spine, more gentle than not, and if he had an inkling of what he just interrupted, he was kind enough not to ask. “Never fear, brother, you are always fucking annoying whether you’re trying or not.”

Probably true. Hearing his brother swear was always enough to give his soul a seizure, even if he knew Papyrus only did it to get a rise out of him. He needed to go find one of the docs, let him know Paps was awake and there were probably tests that needed to be run, x-rays maybe, who the fuck knew.

It could wait a minute. Right now, the only place his soul wanted to be was right here.

But later, he thought maybe he had some dice to roll. Some asshole in a stupid hat once said the game was afoot and now that he knew there was a chance?

Sans was playing to win.

-finis-

#kustard #spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

[artificialqueens]

Beneath the Amber Moon, Part 1 (Galactica AU Group Fic) – TheDane & Veronica

Heyyy!! Welcome to “Beneath the Amber Moon,” a group fic set in the Galactica Universe. (If you have never read a Galactica story and want a little background, click here for character descriptions/relationships.)

We hope you enjoy! Let us know what you think!

Summary: Fame brings her nearest and dearest on a luxurious vacation to Brazil to celebrate her birthday. Shenanigans and drama ensue.

/////

Fame opened her French doors, a fresh wind of ocean air hitting her face as she took a deep breath, enjoying the sounds and scents of the sea that was spreading out before her. The sun was rising on the horizon, Patrick still sleeping in the bed behind her. They had arrived late last night, and poor Patrick had been so good at keeping her calm for the flight that he had fallen asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

Choosing to go to Brazil had been brilliant. Raja offhandedly mentioning that she should do something for her birthday while they had both been trapped in Fame’s office, mountains of paperwork for their official branch into Asia on her desk, and Fame had taken the idea and run with it as fast as she could. Patrick had agreed right away, her husband the most amazing man she knew, and when she had accidentally told Alaska of the idea at work, Jinkx had called her that night, charter planes already booked and the network of assistants put into work to take them to this little slice of paradise 4 months later.

Fame took off her robe, sure no one else would be awake as she slipped into the sea, the water feeling amazing against her naked skin. Fame dunked her head underneath the water, a gasp leaving her lips as she came back up, the hot air filling her lungs. Fame heard a noise, and she turned around to see the door to Bianca's bungalow open, the other woman sipping on a cup of coffee, her own bathrobe hanging off of her shoulder.

“Morning!”

“Morning blondie.” Bianca smiled, and Fame felt a stir in her stomach. She and Bianca had gotten closer and closer lately, and Fame would lie if she said it didn’t please her immensely. “Great view, huh?”

Fame looked down at herself, the water barely covering her breasts, a smile playing on her own lips. Fame stood up, water dripping down her body as she pushed her hair back, making sure she was on full display.

“Isn’t it?” Fame turned around, the feeling of Bianca's gaze following her all the way back inside the best present she could ever have gotten for her (seventh) 35th birthday.

/////

“Shhh, lay still.”

“No!” Isolde shrieked. “More!”

Raja smiled, shaking her head. Both Tanya and Isolde were snuggled on her chest, the girls curled up around her as they watched a show on her phone. They had woken up at 6, Raven ready to call the nanny to be with them the moment she heard the screams from the baby monitor. Raja had pulled them into bed instead, Raven turning over to continue sleeping with a roll of her eyes. Raja was attempting to turn off the screen and have a little quiet time before they had to rise for breakfast, but Isolde was adamant about watching another episode.

“More! More!”

“Okay, okay, shhh!” Raja soothed, letting Isolde snatch the phone in her hands, clearly engrossed by the musical puppets on the screen. Miraculously, Tanya had slept through her sister’s mini tantrum, dozing with her thumb in her mouth, and Raja kissed her dark head gratefully.

/////

“Violet, come on, we’re going to be late!”

“I’ll be right there!”

Violet was in what many people would consider paradise, and somehow it was her own personal version of hell instead. She sighed, turning to the side as she watched herself in the mirror, her hand coming to rest on her middle.

Fame had flown everyone to a resort in Brazil for her birthday, Sutan RSVPing straight away without even considering to ask her if she wanted to come along. Not that she could have come up with an excuse that was good enough to stay behind in Paris.

The resort they were staying at was beautiful, no doubt about it, all of them in bungalows that opened up to a crystal clear sea, and Violet felt terrible.

She hated being here, the sun giving her migraines whenever she wasn’t wearing sunglasses, the sand impossible to run in, the strange new smells making her nauseous more often than not while the heat made her feel sweaty and dizzy. To top it all off, everyone had somehow decided that spending time by the water was the only way to spend their time in Brazil, so for the second day in a row she was forced to spend her time in beach attire looking like a pudgy, chubby mess. The weight at the gym only said 3 pounds, but Violet was only 26, and she had no idea why her metabolism had suddenly almost stopped completely.

She looked in the mirror once again hoping it had changed, but no. She looked exactly the same. Violet had no idea when her apparent new allergies had started, but no matter how careful she was, avoiding both dairy and gluten, she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t looked like a snake mid digestion, her belly looking painfully bloated, even though it didn’t hurt to the touch. On the plane from Paris to Brazil Violet had even avoided alcohol and sugar, a last ditch effort to find out what was happening to her body, but there had been no such luck. Violet knew she was most likely the only one who could see it, Sutan not commenting or acting any different, her ass still pleasantly sore from the feel of his palm last night before he had fucked her into their mattress.

Violet grabbed her dress, sliding it over her head, the flowy fabric and pale color hopefully hiding her body away from the prying eyes and backhanded comments of the people Sutan considered his family.

/////

“Aand there we go.” Juju smiled, Grace giggling as she filled the three year old’s plate with fresh fruit. The resort staff had put tables up on the beach for them, Karl sitting next to her still half asleep, coffee mug dangerously close to spilling over and Juju couldn’t blame him. Their waiter from the day before had not been hiding anything as he had flirted shamelessly with Karl, Karl basking in the attention and probably also pure afterglow if the sounds of pleasure Juju had heard from his bungalow as any indication. Juju was happy for Karl, though she was a whole lot happier her kids were all heavy sleepers.

“Morning!”

Juju waved as Jinkx, Alaska and Adore joined them. Jinkx looked like a vision in a tight red vintage style bathing suit, a white cover up covering her shoulders, her face protected by a large floppy hat. She was holding Alaska’s hand, the blonde in a long flowing maxi dress that made her look as if she could reach the sky, and then there was Adore, a ratty band t-shirt from someone called ‘The pussy lickers’ slipping off her shoulder while Juju really hoped she was wearing shorts underneath.

Everyone slowly showed up, Fame and Patrick, Bianca and Sutan discussing something they had seen on TV, while Violet was a step behind, then came Raja and Raven with their wailing, squirming twins, Raven practically tossing Tanya to the nanny hurrying by her side. Lastly, Detox with Julia and Owen in tow, all three of them already in bathing suits, barely dry from their first swim of the day. Detox sat down, a brief kiss landing on her cheek before she had a lap full of excited kids, telling her all about how daddy was such a quick swimmer, Owen almost bursting with excitement.

Breakfast went by fast, everyone chatting and laughing and eating, Juju feeling a deep sense of peace wash over her since she couldn’t remember the last time they had all been together like this. Raja wasn’t herself without her brother around, the glint in her eye barely there if she didn’t have him near. Juju hadn’t even realised how much it had mattered to Raja, but it didn’t come as a surprise. Juju was in many ways Raven’s best friend, and even though she had known Raja since she was in college, she’d never really truly gotten to know her best friend’s wife, Raja incredibly closed off to everyone and everything if she didn’t feel like opening up, which she practically never did.

Fame dinged her glass, a bright smile on her face. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate me, and for taking time out of your calendars to spend a week in what I hope will be the best vacation spot we ever visit!”

Juju stopped listening, Fame happily rambling on, interrupted by everyone and everything, but it didn’t really matter, since they were all there together.

/////

Adore dropped down onto her towel, spreading it in the sand. Jinkx stirred in the lounge chair beside her. As usual, she was worried about sunburn, and so she was slathered with sunblock, covered in a mumu, a giant hat shielding her face and an umbrella on top of everything. Adore pressed a kiss to her cheek, grinning.

“Mmmh, hey,” Jinkx said, eyes fluttering open.

“Hi,” Adore replied, leaning her head against the chair. “You taste like sunblock.”

Jinkx reached out and caressed her cheek, and Adore smiled up at her. A shadow fell over them, and Adore looked up to see Alaska, holding a large ice tea for Jinkx, two beers dangling from her fingers.

Alaska handed her girlfriends their drinks and then perched on the edge of Jinkx’ chair.

“God, it’s beautiful here…” she breathed.

“I know,” Adore agreed. “And that water is perfect. You should go in.”

Alaska gazed out at the crystal blue water, where Detox was teaching Grace and Owen how to bodysurf, both kids loving the attention from their dad.

“Maybe,” she said. “Look how cute they are…”

Adore bit her lip as Jinkx put an arm around Alaska, pulling her close. Alaska settled against her chest, sighing contentedly, brown eyes meeting Adore’s, a small, shy smile playing on her lips.

Adore wasn’t stupid. She knew that Alaska had had babies on the brain for months. So far, she’d successfully avoided any conversations about it, but with a week in this setting, surrounded by all their friends’ kids? It was going to be much tougher. Which is why Adore had called in reinforcements.

“Jinkxy, is everything cool with the plane for Courtney?” Adore asked.

“Of course, lil bear,” Jinkx replied, resting her chin on Alaska’s head.

“Good,” Adore sighed.

“It’ll be so nice to see her,” Alaska commented, pretending to be casual, like she didn’t know exactly why Adore had summoned her best friend there from Los Angeles.

“Yeah, totally.” Adore shifted, turning to face the water again.

/////

“Bianca, open up!”

Bianca opened the door to find Fame posing. She was wearing a sarong and what appeared to be nothing underneath.

“Sooo...” Bianca raised an eyebrow. She wanted to wonder what kind of vacation her dearest friend had in mind, but ultimately she was just happy that they had grown closer once again.

“Patrick is taking too long.” Fame pushed by her and into Bianca’s bathroom, setting her bag down.

“Ah.”

Bianca could already hear Fame rummaging around, and as she popped her head in Fame was rearranging her cosmetics.

“How have you already made such a mess B? We arrived yesterday.”

“Well, I didn’t expect to have company.”

Fame tutted and picked a few of Bianca’s products, smiling a little as she read the labels. “Snail extract? Really? What are you? A korean beauty expert? Haven’t you listened to Alaska? What’s next, a vampire facial?”

“Not really no.” Bianca crossed her arms, the serum in Fame’s hand one she had been giving by dermatologist. “Besides, what room do you have to judge? It’s not like you haven’t had your face sucked by leeches.”

“What a peculiar way to describe yourself, dearest.” Fame smiled.

“May I remind you, someone you’re actually married to is less than 10 feet away?”

“You know steam isn’t good for my pores right now.” Fame opened her own bag, and started doing her morning routine. Bianca watched her. “Are you not going to get ready?”

“I didn’t realise turtle watching required ‘getting ready’, unless they plan to strut down the runway?”

“Let’s hope not, in that case we would have to worry about you fucking them.” Fame smiled, mischief shining in her eyes.

“I don’t do models anymore,” Bianca retorted, hands on her hips.

“Oh right. You’re exclusively into bored trophy wives now, right?” Fame giggled. “No divorcées, though. That might get serious.”

For the past couple of years, Bianca had been working her way through the Upper East Side Ladies Who Lunch circuit. Though they were slightly more age appropriate than her former flings, screwing married women at charity events was not exactly helping her with her commitment issues.  

“Oh, like you’re one to talk.” Bianca reached out, grabbing Fame, pulling the other woman into the bedroom, Fame shrieking with laughter as Bianca dumped her on the bed, the two play fighting, Fame putting up a fair fight. “When the hell did you get so strong?!”

Fame laughed, bucking against Bianca who held her down. “It’s called, no, no Bianca don’t tickle me- ah! No! Mercy! Mercy!”

Bianca stopped, hands holding Fame’s wrists, both of them breathing hard. Fame was beautiful. In her own way, her face one Bianca knew so intimately well. More than ever, Bianca wished she knew what Fame was thinking. She had come to her cabin, dressed like this, surely flirting, tempting. Bianca wanted to know exactly what naughty thoughts hid behind those mysterious eyes. They stared at each other for a few more heated moments, neither daring to make a move, when a sound at the door startled Bianca, making her jump up.

Adore peered through the glass door, knocking.

“Hey sis!”

“What do you want?” Bianca sighed, opening the door.

“Do you have a bandaid?” Adore held up her foot, wrapped in t-shirt, the amount of blood alarming. “I cut it on a seashell.”

“Jesus Christ, Adore! Why wouldn’t you go see a medic for this?” Bianca led her sister to the chair and sat her down. Fame was still on the bed, slightly dazed.

“It’s just a tiny cut.” Adore scowled. “Hi, Fame.”

Bianca unwrapped her foot, seeing that it was in fact a small cut, and pulled out a first aid kit.

“You’re like a five year old… Couldn’t one of your two girlfriends help with this?”

“They’re in the spa, I didn’t want to bother them.” Adore winced as Bianca swabbed her foot with alcohol. “Ouch!”

“But bothering me is fine?” Bianca asked, applying antibiotic ointment to the cut.

“Exactly.” Adore flashed a bright smile.

Bianca covered her cut with a waterproof bandaid and then sat back on her heels.

“Alright, there you go.”

“Thanks, B!” Adore chirped. “Now y’all can go back to whatever boring grownup discussion you were having!”

Or not. Bianca looked at Fame on the bed, who was now all business, legs folded primly, top straightened, applying a thick layer of snail goo to her face.

/////

“Isolde! Get back here!”

Sutan hadn’t seen Isolde take off, the little girl running the moment she spotted a crab, Sutan only grabbing her seconds before she slipped and fell, his niece nearly cracking her skull open on the rocks they had been playing in.

Isolde screamed, tears rolling down her face as if someone had just died, the little girl sobbing uncontrollably.

“Shit!”

Sutan had looked away for a single second, his phone ringing while they had been talking, Raja asking him where they were.

”Let me see you.” Sutan moved his niece slightly, drying her tears away with the edge of his sleeve, the little girl only hiccuping now as fat tears continued to roll down her cheeks, the scare over for now and Sutan was so grateful he had caught her. She appeared unscathed, so Sutan started walking, quickly filling the entire thing away in the ever growing cabinet of things he’d never tell his sister.

“Isolde, you have to watch where you’re going-”

“No Isolde!”

“.. Say that again?”

“No Isolde!”

Sutan stopped, stunned at the girl’s words. Sutan moved her on his hip, he was sure it was Isolde, but as he looked at her, he realised that he had been mistaken. His sister’s twins was like mirror images, completely identical, their skin the same shade of brown, their hair jet black and already thick, their eyes shaped exactly like Ravens.

“I’m sorry Tanya.” Sutan put her down. “I didn’t realise.” Tanya looked up at him, a strange expression on her small face. “Can you forgive your uncle?”

Tanya nodded, and Sutan smiled.

“I’m glad.”

#rpdr fanfiction #group fic #raja x raven #vitan #jalaskadore #galactica au #lesbian au #fluff #beneath the amber moon #thedane #veronica #raja gemini #violet chachki #raven #jinkx monsoon #alaska thunderfuck #miss fame #adore delano #bianca del rio #concrit welcome #mild angst

[ganymededreaming]

Lord of the Brocean

                 Kent’s best friend Julie had urged him to take a long-earned break.  Long working hours had left him as strung out as she had ever seen him.  And when she saw an ad for a gay music festival on a remote (and blissfully out of cell service) private island, she knew it would be just the break Kent needed.  She giggled a bit.  Kent, so dark hared, pale, and serious faced, would be a strange sight on a tropical island.  But that’s what made it all the more important he go.                “I don’t know…” Kent stirred his cappuccino absentmindedly.  The café they’d met at after work was almost empty.  “Frankly, it just sounds like a more specific version of that Fyre Fest debacle.”  He gave a small frown a he sipped.  “Kent, come on.  You’ll lose the vacation time if you don’t go now, and I bought the ticket.  And I’ll buy you another if it doesn’t work out!”  Kent pouted, but knew she was right.  And he couldn’t help but stare at the pictures of all the happy, smiling men playing in the sun, the delicious platters of fresh seafood, and the itinerary of parties and musicians.  It all looked so fun.  An office life had been so draining lately.

               “You owe me a dinner anywhere I choose if it’s not as advertised….but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”  Julie beamed as a breeze from the bay blew into the café.

               Kent was never a good flyer.  Something about shooting up in the air felt deeply unnatural to his every instinct.  Usually, his plan was to knock himself out with a glass of wine and a heavy eye mask, but that wouldn’t cut it for the final leg of his voyage.  It was only an hour, from Miami to the remote island on a tiny little charter plane.  A double whammy; not long enough to fall asleep, and as nerve wracking a plane as he could imagine.

               As Kent took his seat, hair flopping in his eyes, he fidgeted with one of the drawstrings to his shirts hood.  Dressed in white and blue, looking up through the windows at the clear sky, he wondered if he’d even be noticed if he fell out of the plane against the vast blue expanse.

               The other men filtered in – an attractive bunch, not a dud among them.  He gave a small smile – at least he could distract himself with that.  A cute twink and his giant boyfriend sat across the row, the twink giggling in his tight tank top and short shorts, playing with the giants long hair and beard.  Suddenly, what he immediately thought must be the most gorgeous specimen of all the men came up to his row.                  “Excuse me, I think this is my seat.  Mind if I sit down, little guy?”  The man was taller than Kent by a good foot, going on two.  The nicknaming was apt, if a little rude.  But instead of irritating Kent, it merely made him blush furiously.  He had sun tanned skin, wave tossed dirty blonde hair, and a toned, broad shouldered body.  Curly dark hairs poked at the top of his floral short-sleeved shirt, two buttons undone, and a tooth necklace of some sort nestled between his pecs.  Bigger than a shark, but Kent couldn’t place it; it was adorably tacky.  But the sparkle of his smile and green eyes were what turned Kent’s knees to jelly.  And he smelled wonderful – like long, lazy days on the beach, sweet and salty all at once

               The man sat down, pressing against Kent in the narrow little seats of the propeller plane.  He started to introduce himself when the shudder of the engine provoked a similar shudder in Kent’s shoulders.

               “Little guy, what’s the matter?”  The man put a friendly, massive hand around Kent, hugging him close.  “Not….good with planes.” Kent managed to stammer out.  “Aw, buddy, no, hey little dude, it’s gonna be alright.  My brother’s the one running this flight – he’s not gonna let anything happen to his bro, or to any of his bro’s little friends.  And you’re my friend now, little guy.  So my bro and I are gonna make sure this trip is nothing but fun for you.”

               By this time, the plane was in the air, as the man – Kent now was beginning to think of him as the good natured madman – massaged his shoulder, and excitedly talked about all the amenities of the island.                “Well, there’s all kinds of waterslides they set up, and there’s all kinds of tasty stuff!  Do you like cake?  Oh man, save room, the shrimp is delicious, but the chef, he makes these tarts, you know-“ “Ahem!”

               A golden twink with floppy, golden hair had approached them with a drink cart.  He wore a scandalously cut outfit for a steward: a tiny tank top that barely covered his nipples, the shortest of shorts, and pointy shoes, everything in a bright purple.  “You boys want anything?”                “Oh, damn Ganny, didn’t realize we were doing that now!  Yeah, get me and my little buddy some rum punch!  Come on, little man, you’re gonna love this.”  Kent chuckled.  The whole thing was so absurd, but he supposed this was the kind of crowd that took vacations like this.  Might as well take in the local flavor.

               As the twink handed the two of them tall hurricane glasses – real glass to Kent’s shock – filled with a bright red liquid, he gave a wink.  “You boys have fun!  I’m going to finish up my run, then the captain wanted me back for his break!”  He giggled and skipped off.                “You two know each other?”  His heart sunk with a dark jealousy for a moment, and he could swear the twink – that “Ganny” – had giggled again the minute the thought crossed his mind.  But when he looked back, he was pouring the largest beer he had ever seen for the giant across the row.  “Oh, yeah little man – remember my bro?  That kid’s my bro’s main thing.  We played once or twice, but he’s honestly not my thing.  Like mine with dark hair, like yours, Kent….y.  Damn bro, gotta think of something better to call you.  Little man suits you just fine though for now bro.”                Kent figured that he had seen the name on his boarding pass, and shrugged ff the fact that he’d known his name.  He was, however, flustered twofold.  First of all, he couldn’t process that many pet names in a single sentence.  Second, the idea he was this hunks type made him a happier, jollier sort of flustered.

               “Anyway, cheers bro!  Here’s to a happy little vacay.”  He knocked back the giant drink in one gulp.  Kent smiled a wry little smile.  “Cheers to that.”  Maybe this would be a good break.  He took a sip.  The drink was sweet, with a sour little kick of lime at the back, and Kent couldn’t quite place the exotic liqueurs…maybe ginger?  But it felt good.  Refreshing.  He unzipped his shirt the slightest bit more, panting, and swigged the rest of it down.  He wiped his brow with a moment of surprise – his hair wasn’t there anymore.  It had been styled up, attractively messed, and lightly held by wax.  And a zit he had noticed that morning was totally gone.  Huh – he shrugged it off.  Maybe when the neighbor had mussed his hair, it had settled like this.

               “Awwww, hey little man!  Now you look like you’re feeling good!  Better?”  By now the plane had started its descent towards the island, a beautiful little piece of sand in crystal clear waters.  Kent gave a genuine smile, relaxing.  “Yeah, man.  You never gave me your name, bro?”  “Awww, bro!  Sorry ‘bout that – you can call me Sid, or just bro for now.  I’ll se you on the island, yeah little man?”  Kent gave a happy nod, and moved to disembark.

               The sun was blinding on the island, and the heat encouraged Kent to zip open his shirt all the way, letting his skin hit the sun.  A light tan blossomed across it, spreading from his chest.  Not as dark as Sid’s, but a little splash of color.

               As Kent walked towards the check in, “Ganny” came bounding next to him, running towards a man in a lifeguard’s visor and a leopard print speedo.  His hairy chest and dusky skin drew a number of stares, and Kent could see the mischief in his eyes, even though his tinted sunglasses.  “D-Man!  You made it!  You’re chilling at me and the boss’s tent tonight, yeah?”  “Wouldn’t miss it.  Just gotta check everyone in.”  He ruffled his hair and gave his ass a swift pat as Ganny skipped off towards the cocktail bar set up nearby.

               The lifeguard settled behind the desk, pointing the happy travelers towards their various tents.  He saw the twink and giant from across the aisle – he was riding on the giant’s shoulders like a little kid, as the giant whooped and hollered as he carried him towards their tent.  Heh – just like two good bros ought to.  He felt a pang of jealousy t that thought, but quickly shook it off.

               As he approached the lifeguard looking man, and handed him his ticket, the lifeguard scanned it and smiled.  “Woah!  Good news and bad news, kiddo – you’re one of our two lucky guys to win a room in an above water cabana.  Bad news is it isn’t ready yet.  Can you be a good little thing and go play in the waves, have some fun while we get it set up?  Sure a tasty little snack like you can find some fun mischief for a couple hours.  Your luggage is gonna be there tonight, so you don’t need to worry.  And the big music acts don’t start until tomorrow morning, so don’t worry about missing anything while you get settled in tonight.”  He ruffled Kent’s hair, and gave him a flirty chest flick.

               Kent bounced up, beaming.  Everyone was being so nice to him!  Julie was right.  He just needed to spend a nice relaxing trip with the guys, chill out with some drinks, go swimming.  “Thanks, man!  So cool of you to do that for me!   You guys at this island are like…the best!”                  Kent skipped off into the island.  Sid was right- the island WAS incredible.  It must have been used for events all the time; it was so built up.  The food was delicious; mountains of shrimp, flatbread pizzas, sushi, giant parfaits, all washed down with giant frozen drinks.  And the sun made him ravenous.  He was so glad he’d worn his swimsuit, so he could splash in the crystal blue water.  But most of the attendees were in couples or friend groups.  Kent felt a little awkward walking over, and playing on his own got old a little fast.  He frowned.  Maybe the whole trip was a mistake.  But one of the slides was a four person tube.  That would introduce him to a few people a little less awkwardly.

               As he climbed the tall wooden steps to the slide, he felt a powerful clap on his shoulder.  “Bro!  Oh my god, bro, I found you!  Gotta introduce you to my other friends!”  Sid stood there, chest slick with sweat from the afternoon sun, blue baseball cap covering his hair, clad only in a pair of baggy board shorts.  He pointed behind him to a tall, muscular black man with shoulder length dreadlocks, and a nervous looking Hispanic twink with shaggy black hair clinging to his hand for dear life.  “This is my bro Sobek, and his little buddy Mateo!”  Sobek reached out his hand and shook Kent’s, nearly crushing it.  “Don’t mind Mateo, he’s just shy.  And nervous for the big slide.  Worries I won’t keep him safe.  Cheeky of him.” He gave Mateo’s forehead a playful flick, and Mateo stuck his tongue out back at him.  “It’s nice to meet you too!  Sid, you didn’t tell us you found someone!”

               Kent couldn’t quite place the name, but it sounded familiar.  Maybe someone from a book?  And his accent wasn’t one Kent was familiar with.  Sobek gave a mischievous grin as if he could see the wheels struggling to turn in Kent’s head.  “I know Sid from work.  Think of us…like managers from different offices.  Am happy you’ve got someone to hold on to this trip.”                Sid beamed.  “Yeah, this is my little guy Kent!  You don’t mind being my date for the afternoon, do you little buddy?”  Kent couldn’t help but blush and nod happily.  “Aw, I’m so glad!  We’re gonna have such a great time, little guy.”  They got to the top and got in the big inflatable tube.  Mateo giddily clung to Sobeks arm, and Kent had only barely glanced towards Sid when he threw a massive arm around him and pulled him in close.

               As they barreled down, Kent heard Mateo’s shrieks of delight and Sid and Sobek’s whoops and hollers.  But his main focus was just on the feelings.  The cool water splashing on him, the warmth of Sid’s chest as he clung close.  He could feel the rest of the world, every bit of doubt and worry drip away, until he finally let out a whoop of his own as their tube was shot out of the slide, Sid and Kent spilling out of the tube into the water in a laughing tangle of limbs.

               The rest of the afternoon and evening went much the same way – swimming at the beach, drinking more cocktails, and hitting the dance floor.  As the sun went down, Sid had a moment of surprise cross his face.  “Damn, bro – just remembered.  I have to check into my room, it was gonna be ready late tonight.  Want me to walk you back to yours first?  Cute little babe like you shouldn’t be alone, jerks like Sobek would just gobble you up.”  “Hey!” Mateo pouted.  Sobek chuckled.  “Don’t worry, I’m only going to be gobbling you tonight, pet.”  Sobek gave Sid a playful punch, before throwing a squirming, blushing Mateo over his shoulder and walking off.

As Kent and Sid walked along the slowly emptying beach, they came to the above water Cabana.  It was a beautiful grass-roofed little house on stilts on the water.  It was a suite, with all the rooms but the bathroom facing out onto the water.  Suddenly, Sid started shouting.  “FUCK YEAH!  My bros rock!  I can’t believe it!  They gave me and my new little bro a cabana!  Aw, fuck yeah, bro, this is so rad little man, can’t believe it, get my own whole place with my new little bro.”  He practically dragged Kent in, through the fancy kitchen, peaceful deck, and into the bedroom, sitting him down on the big king bed.

“New…little bro?”  Kent looked up at Sid, confused.  Sid started to take his cap and necklace off.  “Yeah little man...” Sid looked sheepish for a moment.  “I grew up the youngest of three brothers, and I always was kinda pushed around as the little bro.  And I just wanted a little bro of my own, yknow?  So…maybe you could do it? Be my little bro, little guy?”  Sid earnestly looked like he might cry if Kent said no, but he had no intention of that.  Kent chuckled a little.  “Yeah, I’ll be your little bro.”  Sid immediately lit up again.  “WHOO!  Fuck yeah, you’re not gonna regret it little bro, gonna be such a good big bro for you, make sure no one messes with you, keep you safe and happy.  Now come on, get out of those trunks, let’s pop in the shower, wash all the days funk off.”                Kent gave a small whimper and looked away.  “What’s the matter?  No reason to be shy, just us bros, yeah?”  Kent gave a quiet nod, and slipped out of his trunks, still a little nervous looking.  “Aw, that’s it little man, nothing to worry about.  Now hop in the shower little bro, meet you in there in a sec.”  He gave Kent a playful swat on the ass as Kent scampered off.                The shower was big, tiled in tan terra cotta, with a small wooden bench, and sliding glass doors almost twice as tall as Kent.  He had just stepped in, letting the warm water flow over him, when Sid stepped in.  “Aw, see, told you, nothing to be ashamed of little bro.  You got a nice body, kiddo.”  Kent smiled, giggling.  “Thanks, big bro.  Nothing compared to your big muscles tho.”  Sid looked at Kent with a look of sheer adoration.  “So fuckin’ sweet, first time you called me big bro.  That’s right.  Go on, flex for me little bro.  Show your big bro your muscles.”  Kent gave a flex – he was surprised, it felt bigger and more toned than he had remembered.  “That’s it.  Nice biceps bro.  Nothing like my sick guns tho.”  He flexed a giant arm, showing off his taut muscles.  Kent almost drooled.  “That’s it.  Go on and squeeze it bro.  Give it a fuckin’ kiss too.”  Kent panted a little as he squeezed it, before drawing his lips gently to it.  Even under the warm water, he could taste faintly taste the sweet and salty tang of sweat.  “That’s it.  Soooo fuckin’ sweet.  Let’s get you all soaped up.”

Sid started manhandling him, rubbing shampoo into his hair, soaping his body up as Kent began to whimper.  “You get me too bro, soap me up.”  Sid lifted his arm, shoving Kent’s face in.  “Course you can always tongue me off.  Come on, little bro, get me all clean.”  Kent couldn’t help himself, tonguing Sid’s armpit, licking up his intoxicating musk.  “So fuckin’ tasty bro.  So good…”  Sid chuckled.  “Better really get me clean now.  Come on, soaps on the bench.”

Kent ran his soapy hands over Sid’s rock hard muscles, lingering over his abs before finally soaping up his massive cock.  “That’s so fuckin’ big bro….” Kent drooled a tiny bit as he said that, hardening as Sid massaged the soap into his ass, gently tapping his puckered hole with his finger.  “Heh, you’re not too shabby.  What you packin’, 6 inches?”  He grabbed Kent’s dick, pressing it up against his own hard cock.  “Nothing compared to my rod, ‘course, but pretty hung for a little guy like you.”  Thick and veined, Sid’s dick hovered around twice Kent’s size.  “That’s fuckin’ perfect for my little bro, take after his big bro, but still, we both know who the real big bro is.  Bet you’re gonna brag to all your little friends how hung your bro is, huh?”  As the warm water rinsed them off, Sid smacked Kent’s ass, and scooted his arms underneath Kent, picking him up, pressing their bodies together.  “Gimmee a fuckin’ kiss bro.”  Kent leaned into the kiss, letting Sid slip his tongue inside him.  Supporting Kent with one arm, Sid flicked the water off, then opened the door, carrying Kent out of the shower, throwing him on the bed.                “Legs up little bro.  Let me see that hole.”  Kent grinned, lying back and lifting his legs, spreading his cheeks apart.  “Look at that cute little hole.  So good for me.”  Sid dove forward, lapping at his hole.  Kent began to whimper.  “Ugh, fuck bro….big bro, eat me out.  Need my hole filled.”  Sid happily obliged, feasting on Kent’s hole.  Kent threw his head back, just enjoying it, relaxing as his big bro’s tongues worked him open.  Kent got up and lay next to Kent.  “Come on bro, sixty-nine with me.  Suck my cock.  Eat it, bro.”  

Kent eased himself on to Sid’s cock, pushing his head deep down and taking in more of that addictive scent.  “So fucking tasty, bro.”  He sucked at the precum-beaded head, greedily trying to shove it deeper.  “Uh….take it easy bro.  Plenty left, and it’s all here for you.”  Kent whimpered, Sid probing him with a finger now, stretching him out.                Sid rose up, pulling his finger out, suddenly looking dead serious as he sat down on the bed next to Kent.  “Sit up, little bro.  What I say next is gonna be important.”  Kent sat up, curling up next to his bro.  “You’ve got a choice to make now.  I know you’re horned, bro, so am I, but you ride my cock?  That’s it.  Gonna be Poseidon and his little bro ‘gainst the world.  Forever.  You want that bro?  Be my little man, let me take care of you, stick by my side?”  Sid tilted Kent’s head up from the chin, looking him in the eye.  “Tell me.  Say you’re gonna be my little bro.”  “Please...oh my god bro, just wanna be your little bro forever.  Don’t let me go back to being all stressed bro.  Let’s just be happy fuckin’ bros forever.  You…heh.”  He started laughing.  “What’s so funny bro?” Sid frowned.  “Well…you scared all the scary stuff away!  You’re the best.  ‘Course I wanna be your little bro.”  He beamed.

“Fuck yeah bro!  That’s my best bro for life.  You’re not gonna regret this, I’m gonna make sure of it.  Leave it to big bro.  Now let’s get our fuckin’ cocks taken care of, yeah?”  Sid ruffled Kent’s hair and grabbed his cap off the bedside table, throwing it backwards on Kent, then patted his lap.  “Now jump on my lap bro – gonna give you best ride of your life.”

Kent giggled as he settled into Sid’s lap, wrapping his arms around Kent’s neck and leaning in for a kiss.  “So sweet.  Let me just…” Kent guided his slick cock towards Kent’s entrance.  “Ready bro?” Kent nodded.  Sid slowly pushed in, his cock slowly stretching Kent open until just the head popped in.   Kent gasped, whimpering and leaking onto Sid’s stomach.  “H-hurts bro…” Sid rubbed Kent’s back and nibbled his ear.  “You’re so fuckin’ tight, little guy…gonna make you relax, gonna make you perfect hole for your big bro’s cock.” Suddenly, the pain started to dissipate.  In fact, even the memory of the pain dissipated.  All Kent could focus on was the feeling of being wrapped in strong arms, and so, deliciously full.

Inch by inch, without any effort, Kent sunk down onto Sid’s dick, whimpering and writhing before bottoming out, falling into Sid’s warm chest, panting.  “Look at that.  So proud, bro.  So full of your stud bro’s dick.” He rubbed at Kent’s stomach, kissing him.  “Let’s get you all full of my spunk too.  Not real bros until I’ve creamed you too.”  

With that, Sid began jack-hammering Kent, drilling him. By now, Kent could barely form words, the pleasure was so intense.  He had a brief moment when suddenly, he remembered that he hadn’t checked his email – fuck, what if the office had tried to contact him, maybe there was wifi, after sex he’d grab his pho- “Eyes on me bro.” Suddenly, Sid grabbed his face, forcing him to look into his eyes, the pumping of Sid’s thick cock filling his mind, his thoughts washing away in the tides of pleasure.  “Just gotta stay slutty and happy for your big bro, and he’ll take care of the rest.”

After the pounding went on for a good while, Sid flipped Kent to the bed, going deeper, holding Kent’s legs in a breeding press.  All Kent could do is let out a high pitched whimper.  “Gonna cum bro….get ready.”  But despite the warming, almost instantly Kent was filled with what fet like gallons of cum.  It leaked out onto the bed, filling his brain with nothing but the scent of cum.  And that triggered him, as hands free, he shot all over both of their chests.  Sid grunted and shouted.  “Fuck yeah! Shoot that load bro.  My cute little pussy bro cumming just from my big fuckin’ cock.  So fuckin’ sweet.”  He gave Sid a kiss on the forehead as he pulled out, pulling Kent against him as a little spoon.  

“When you wake up tomorrow, feeling your hole still slick with my cum, you’re gonna remember.  You’re my little bro now.  And walking around tomorrow, we’re gonna show everyone we’re the best pair of bros here. You got that little guy?”               And with the last of his strength, Kent cuddled back into Sid…Poseidon. His god, his lover, his bro.  “Fuck yeah.”