#(( adventure trip )); chapter ten

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

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“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.

Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”

“For what?”

“Maybe someone will save us.”

“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”

“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”

“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”

Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.

Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”

You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.

“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”

He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”

“You don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”

“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”

“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”

“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”

“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”

“You’re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”

Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”

You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”

“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”

“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.

“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”

“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”

“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”

“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Two.”

“Good. Don’t use them.”

You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”

Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”

“I rarely do.”

“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”

It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.

Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”

The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.

The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs

You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed

You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave

There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”

The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.

Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”

Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”

All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.

Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”

The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.

“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”

The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”

Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”

“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”

Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Get bit, you poodle.”

Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”

Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.

“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”

“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”

Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”

“Odessa, Oregon.”

He nods. “We’re going to California.”

“NorCal,” Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”

“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.

“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”

“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.

“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”

“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.

“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”

You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.

Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. “Man, come on.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.

“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”

Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”

“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”

“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.

“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.

“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”

Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.

“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.

“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”

“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.

“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is truly desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”

Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”

“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.

“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”

“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”

Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”

“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.

“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.

“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.

“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”

Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”

“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”

“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”

“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”

“Who’s Criston?” you ask.

“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.

“Oh, your stepdad?”

“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”

“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.

Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”

“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.

“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”

“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”

“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”

Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”

Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”

“So racist,” you agree.

Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”

Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.

“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”

“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”

Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”

Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”

“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”

There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.

“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.

“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”

“Where is it?”

“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”

Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.

“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”

“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.

Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.

Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”

Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”

Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.

“And then I have to marry Michelle.”

“You gotta.”

“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”

“It’s the only logical answer.”

“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.

“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.

You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.

What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.

Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”

“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”

“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”

“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”

It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”

“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.

“Kentucky,” you confess.

“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”

“Why would I want to go back there?”

Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.

After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”

Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.

“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”

“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.

“Aemond?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to your face?”

He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”

“I did.”

You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”

He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”

You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”

“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”

“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”

He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”

“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.

Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.

There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”

Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Two

Chapter Two: The Cabin in the Woods

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 3K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: You search the woods for the house you were taken to that night. It’s been hours and you’re lost. Your phone has no service, it is getting dark, and your dumbass didn’t tell anyone you were going on an adventure.

Warnings: mutual pining

A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. I really hope y’all enjoy this one. It was a tough one to write, Walter was so feisty!

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

When you arrived at the hospital, you had another nurse and colleague check out your head injury on your next shift. Armed with a clean bill of health and a brain bursting with unanswered questions, you try to go about your day. 

The entirety of your workday was spent having coworkers break you out of a trance. Every few minutes, you’d gaze off into nothingness until those around you noticed and snapped their fingers in front of your face. You kept thinking about the wolf and Walter, trying to piece the two together. 

After work, you change your clothes and put on your hiking boots. Even though the drive from the cabin to Liv’s house was short, that was in a vehicle. On foot, you will need to cover a lot of ground. You decided against driving your car down the road that splits the forest. 

If you parked at the entrance to the forest near the park grounds, you could easily sneak back to your car and bypass the curfew checkpoint at the tree line. Not that you planned on being out until nightfall. 

Parking your car in the gravel-filled lot, you tighten your scarf around your neck and start your journey into the woods. Walking takes you about ten minutes to get to the clearing where you and Olivia enjoyed wine coolers. It didn’t seem like it took you this long to get to the clearing a couple of days ago, but you don’t stay long enough to dwell on it.

Retracing your steps, you walk for another few minutes in search of the tree with the giant roots jutting out from the forest floor. After ten minutes of wandering, you think about giving up because daylight is in short supply. Looking down at your phone, you curse when you see the battery percentage looking back at you. Eleven percent wouldn’t get you far should you need to make an urgent call or use the flashlight since you forgot to bring one.

After another few minutes of traipsing through the forest, you trip over a large root and accidentally find your tree. Following the roots, you find the little alcove that you had planned to hide in during your game with Liv. You notice the setting sun as you turn to sit on the higher roots. 

Taking out your phone, you realize that it had shut off due to low power. Shoving it back in your pocket, you stand up and wipe a hand down your face. You’re pissed off, cold, and now have no way to contact anyone should you need to. Anger boils your blood as you stand in the now-dark forest.

Pacing for a few seconds doesn’t calm you down. You start to hear all the little nocturnal animals coming alive and usually, you would find this peaceful. However, you would give anything to hear a certain howl. But it’s just crickets, frogs, and owls out tonight.

You don’t know what else to do but…

“Fuck. Fuck! Fuuuuuuuuuck!” You scream out into the void, it would seem.

Until you hear a response in the form of a huff behind you. 

When you turn around, you're only a little surprised to see the same wolf from before walking toward you. You stand still until it stops about a foot from you. You look down and study its paws, large enough to rip your throat out. But the wolf just sits down as a dog would and looks up at you before yawning, showing off its sharp teeth and long dusty-mauve tongue. 

If this were a dog, you would have reached out a hand to pet it. But the sheer size of it was enough to keep your hands to yourself. You didn't have to think about that for long before the wolf was back on all fours walking around you and nudging at your leg as it started to walk away. It doesn't make it far before it turns around to look at you.

"Oh, am I supposed to follow you or something?" You feel silly asking the wolf a question, but only less so when it huffs in response, "Okay. Following a wolf wasn't on the itinerary. But it isn't attacking me so whatever," You finish, mostly to yourself.

Following the wolf, you notice you are going in a completely different direction through the forest. Of course, the last time you were here was an inebriated adventure but you could've sworn you would go right instead of left. Either way, you're putting your faith in a four-legged carnivore so you stop thinking about what should or shouldn't be happening.

A light in the distance can be seen through the trees and once you reach it, you find yourself in front of a medium-sized cabin. There is a light at the little fence encircling the property. The black Ford F-150 that Walter drove is parked to the side in the driveway. You have to admit you didn't expect to see this place look so...normal. It almost looks quaint.

You shuffle on your feet and are suddenly too nervous to propel you forward. Whining at your side reminds you that you aren't alone. You absentmindedly reach your hand out to stroke the wolf's fur. Thick, coarse fur slides through your fingers. Glowing, yellow eyes look into yours and your fear starts to dissipate. The wolf licks at your hand and then takes off around the back of the cabin.

You think about shouting after it or running after it, but instead, you walk up to the fencing. You could swear you hear a door being closed in the back of the cabin, but you can't be sure and you don't want to snoop. Opening the latch to the gate, you walk through the front yard dragging your feet. Your fight or flight response makes an appearance when you hear movement in the house. 

'It's now or never,' you think, raising your hand to knock on the door. 

Three sharp knocks and you shove your hands in your pockets, waiting for the door to be opened. You jump at the sound of something crashing to the ground and soon the light above the door is turned on. You hold up a hand over your eyes as the harsh fluorescent beams down on you in the dark of night. The door is opened and you take your hand down to see Walter standing there. You’re once again under the spell of him.

He stands tall at about 6’1", and his hair is a disheveled mess but it only adds to the sex appeal. His brows are scrunched together and it doesn’t look like he needs you at his doorstep right now by the scowl across his pretty pink lips. He’s shirtless, sweaty, breathing hard, and smells like a wet dog. The denim shorts he wears are tattered at the ends and his defined calves are on display. His bare feet are a bit dirty as if he’s been running barefoot.

Your eyes shoot back up to his, a faint glow makes his blue eyes look almost golden. He blinks a few times and the glow is gone, aquamarine replaces gold. 

You run through a mental checklist. Wet dog smell, check. Frayed shorts that were probably thrown on in a hurry, check. Golden eyes, check. You feel so stupid thinking about the last item. Walter’s hair color is the same as the wolf that brought you here. 

“Are you going to come in or are you going to just stare at me like I’m a–”

“Werewolf?” You blurt out, cutting off Walter’s sentence.

“Just come in, and I can explain everything,” He opens the door and steps aside to let you in, but you don’t move, “I won’t hurt you, I promise. Please come in?” 

His sincere tone and pleading eyes get the better of you. You sigh, chewing the inside of your cheek. Walking in, you step just inside the living room, giving Walter enough space to close the door behind you. You notice a side table knocked over, a lamp, and small knickknacks on the floor next to it. You turn back to look at him and his face is that of a kicked puppy.

Of course, it is.

“Look, I didn’t–”

“As much as I want to have this conversation right now, I can’t get over how much you smell. I’m gonna need you to take care of that ASAP. Go get clean and I’ll tidy up. And where is the kitchen? I need coffee if I’m gonna have this conversation sober.” You say, taking off your coat and laying on the back of the couch.

Walter walks you to the kitchen and watches as you busy yourself with the coffee maker. You tell him politely to get out of his kitchen and go shower. He opens his mouth to talk but closes it when he sees your eyebrows raise and your hand go to your hip. He simply nods and walks away. You hear him walk up the stairs and soon the faint sound of a shower being turned on before a door is closed.

You fill the coffee maker with grounds and water, setting it then make your way to the living room. Picking up the end table, you turn it right side up and set it on its legs. You bend down to pick up the figurines from the floor. You’re not surprised when they turn out to be two wolves, the larger one made of light wood and the smaller wolf a dark mahogany.

You hear the coffee maker sputtering and go in to check on it. Pulling out two mugs from their spot in the corner cabinet, you fill one and leave one for Walter, not sure if he even wants coffee so late at night. Did werewolves even drink coffee?

So, that’s it. You’re just entertaining the idea that werewolves not only exist but that you’re in a cabin with one. In the back of your mind, your grandfather’s tale of the Claw Creek creature demands attention. You were going over it when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

You bring your mug to your mouth to take a sip when Walter appears in the doorway, just as beautiful as when you saw him for the first time. His wet hair curls around his ears. He’s wearing a tighter-than-necessary heather gray henley, the front of it holding onto his pecs for dear life while the sleeves are pulled up to show off muscular forearms. A pair of jeans hug his meaty legs and boots cover his feet.

“You stare a lot.” His words break you out of your ogling and you finally pull down the mug from your lips.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Wolfie,” you comment, suddenly hyperaware that you may have just said something rude.

Walter’s chuckle surprises you, and you’re put at ease, “Wolfie?” He challenges, walking toward you.

You shrug your shoulders and stand your ground, looking up at him as he stops in front of you. He nods to the coffee maker and you step back to let him make a cup for himself. He takes a sip and hums at the flavor. He turns to ask you about it and you answer before he can open his mouth.

“Cinnamon. Just a few shakes and it takes away the sharp bitterness. Now, if you’re done talking about coffee, can we talk about how you can turn into a wolf?” Your frustration peeks through and Walter nods, leading you back into the living room.

Once you get to the couch, you set down your coffee on the table in front of you and turn to face Walter. He takes the cue and starts to speak.

“So, what do you want to know? Do you want me to go through my entire lifetime? It’s quite long, so far. Or start where I was attacked and bitten by someone I thought was a friend? Should I dispel werewolf myths about uncontrollable shifting during the full moon?” He rambles on, probably trying to confuse you or overwhelm you. 

Luckily, you’re already overwhelmed so his attempt is in vain.

“I have a couple of questions. The first one is: Do you eat people? The second one is: Could you follow my scent to find me?” you offer, pulling your leg up to sit on it while leaning against the back of the couch.

“I don’t eat people. I don’t think Werewolves as a whole, ever eat people. Attack? Sure. But no, I don’t crave human flesh,” he pauses, looking down at his hands, “How’d you know about the scent thing?” He’s suddenly super interested in his fingernails.

“I didn’t know about the scent thing. You just confirmed a hunch, is all,” You reach for your mug, bringing it closer to your lips before taking a sip, “One more question and I’ll release you from the hot seat. Are you safe out here? Like, I mean, with the animal mutilations in the town, they were talking about sending hunters out to look for whatever was doing it.”

“That wasn’t me, just so you know. I’m safe out here. I actually live in town, I just come here to shift and get some time away. No one comes out this way. This used to be an abandoned shack, but I fixed it up over the past years. Got electricity going and made it...wait. You care if I’m safe out here?” he presses, a toothy grin showing off his sharp canines.

“You saved my life, I can’t care about your wellbeing? I’m being nice, don’t push it, Wolfie,” you snap, a little harsher than you meant to. You did feel lied to, but he was being honest with you. You shake your head before insisting, “I’m sorry, I just...this is a lot. And I need you to know that I was really pissed off with you in the beginning, but I know why you didn’t tell me. Safety and all that. Maybe you can drive me back to my car so I can start the drive back home?” You were cut off by an intense yawn that came out of nowhere.

“Speaking of safety, you look like you’re ready to fall over. You’ve had all of about two sips of coffee and that yawn almost unhinged your jaw a bit there. Just, I won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re tired behind the wheel,” he admits, turning concerned eyes on you.

“You know, as a wolf, using puppy dog eyes on me should be considered unfair. And how do I know this is not some elaborate excuse to get me into your bed so you can have your way with me, huh?” you huff, squinting at him as his eyes glimmer in the low light of the room.

“Do you want me to have my way with you?” he leans back, head over his shoulder, and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Your hand flies out to slap his bicep. You figure that was easier than giving him the answer that was on the tip of your tongue.

He rolls his eyes and gets up from the couch, pointing to your coffee cup in your hand and motioning for you to give it to him. He takes both of your unfinished cups to the kitchen and when he comes back, he heads for the stairs. “You coming, pup?”

“Pup? Is that because I called you Wolfie?” You stand up from the couch, tilting your head at him before walking to follow him up the steps.

“I don’t know, give me time and I’ll think of something better.” He winks at you and smiles when you duck your head.

Once Walter shows you to his bedroom, you don’t hide your urge to look over everything in the room while he leans against the open door. You almost get upset when you see that his bedspread isn’t a large picture of a wolf’s face. Somehow you thought it would just fit in with his vibe. But the midnight blue damask comforter that covers the bed is actually way more fitting.

“Wait, where are you gonna sleep if I sleep in here?” You question as you sit on the bed and take off your boots.

“I figured I would sleep on the couch. I don’t need much sleep anyway. Unless that was an invitation…?” he smirks and is surprised when you look to be thinking it over.

“Can you stay in here ‘til I fall asleep? I don’t want to be alone.” you confess, looking everywhere but who you were talking to. You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, but you also know you won’t sleep in a bed that’s not yours all by your lonesome.

“Are you alright? I mean, of course, you’re not. What am I saying?” he rambles, coming into the room fully and hunching his shoulders so he can seem less intimidating.

Walter walks over to the bed, pulls back the bedspread, and motions for you to crawl under the covers. Once you are comfortable, he turns on a low light on his dresser and turns off the overhead light of the room. Coming back to the bed, he sits at the edge and toes off his boots before you pull him to lie down next to you.

Turning to face him as he lays on his back, you stare at his face as he looks up at the ceiling. You’re interlacing your fingers so that you don’t reach out and trace his jawline when a thought pops into your head.

“When’s the last time you had a woman in your bed?” You breathe, mentally kicking yourself for not thinking longer before you voice your thoughts.

“It’s been a while. Years. I don’t really...mingle much.” He murmurs, eyes never moving from one particular spot.

You refuse to acknowledge the “lone wolf” analogy, instead, you steady yourself before putting a hand on his. “Thank you for saving me, Walter. Goodnight.” Taking your hand back, you close your eyes and let tiredness take its course.

“You’re welcome.” His soft voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s the last thing you hear before you’re fully asleep.

To be continued…

A/N:  Wow, you mean to tell me I got these two folks in bed together and they’re both dressed still? What?! Don’t hate me!

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[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do Part 19

Chapter 15 when on Ao3, Masterpost WC: 2870 CW: WARNING THESE ARE SPOILERY Canon Typical Violence, Blood, Injury,

Danny knew he was smiling like a love sick fool when he pulled back from the kiss, but he really didn’t care. It was still far to nice to be able to kiss Jason whenever he wanted: like when Jason was picking him up for their date.

“So, where are we going and what’s with the backpack?” Jason asked as he handed over the spare helmet.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope, you don’t get to know where we’re going,” Danny said.

The flat stare he got in response was pretty impressive on Jason’s part. “Fish, I’m the one driving.”

“That you are,” Danny agreed. While Danny didn’t exactly inherit his dad’s driving habits, it was still better that Jason was the one behind the wheel (or the handle bars in this case).

Jason waited a long beat before giving an exasperated sigh. “Then I need to know where we’re going.”

“Your helmet bluetooths to your phone, right? I’ll pull up the directions and press go. You just have to follow them.”

“The directions it gives for the city are shit.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Then I’ll tell you the road we need to be on outside of the city and you can ignore it until then.”

“We’re leaving the city?” That seemed to get Jason’s interest at least.

“Yeah, so have a little sense of adventure and trust me, okay? I think you’ll like it.” Danny hoped Jason would like it. He couldn’t top the museum date, but he hoped this at least would still be a good one.

“Course I trust you, koi,” Jason said and followed up his words with a light kiss.

“Koi?”

“They’re good luck fish.”

“Oh, Ancients do you have the wrong person for that,” Danny said, laughing as he put on his helmet. “Now hand over your phone so I can get us going.”

“Bossy.”

“You like it,” Danny said as he pulled up the route to the small town.

“Damn right.”

-

The whole drive was a little magical, which Danny hoped boded well fro the rest of the date. The trees were in full fall color, the wind on the road wasn’t too cold yet, and, best of all, Danny got to spend it pressed up against Jason’s back.

There was no doubt that they were in the right place as soon as the passed the cheerfully painted wooden sign on the edge of town and the large banner next to it declaring it was the Fall Harvest Festival that weekend. The sign spanning the first set of streetlights in the old fashion downtown didn’t hurt either. Or all the stalls and people milling about. Or the smell of food.

“A harvest festival?” Jason asked, the words slightly distorted by the helmet.

“They have a market place set up and live music and food,” Danny explained quickly. Please, please like it. “But it’s really just good timing to make the trip worth it. Really we’re here for somewhere specific.”

“I don’t suppose I get to know what that is either?”

“Nope! I thought we’d grab lunch and something to drink first before we make our way there.” Please think the plan was okay.

“Something smells delicious, so I’m more than down for that,” Jason agreed easily, and Danny breathed a quiet sigh of relief. So far, so good.

Jason’s nose ended up leading them to cider, pulled pork sandwiches, and tornado potatoes- which were a spiraled monstrosity on a stick (as was only right for fair food). They were a little after lunch, which meant that they were able to find a place to eat at one of the many picnic tables set out across the town square.

Danny had to hand it to the town— it was nice. Sure, it was campy and the number of gourds used as decoration was little extreme, but it was all fit together in a way that was just the right level of quaint. Jason started them on an absurd game ‘tourist or resident’ as they ate. If they both agreed resident, they had to come up with what the person’s job or archetype in the town was.

It ended in a ten minute debate if one lady with truly impressive hair worked at the nail salon or florist.

“Receptionist at the law office,” the grey haired lady who had ended up sharing their table cut in.

Danny went beat red at having been caught out in their game.

“Guess or fact?” Jason asked, unbothered.

“Fact, sonny. I’ve been in this town for fifty-three years now, there ain’t nothing I don’t know,” she said with a proud sniff. “Good guess on the baker though, spot on where that one. Make sure you stop by that booth.”

“Will do, ma’am,” Jason said, balling up their trash to throw away.

Danny happily escaped the table with Jason.

“Ancients that was embarrassing.”

Jason had the audacity to just laugh. “Nah. She didn’t mind.”

“She’s going to tell everyone our guesses,” Danny said.

“So what? We didn’t say anything rude about anyone— well, other than that one set of clearly tourists who were being jerks so they deserved it. We’re just adding to the local flavor for this year.”

“If we go down in infamy and get blocked at the boarder next year, I’m blaming you.”

Jason just smiled softly at him. “Already planning for a next year?”

Danny floundered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth before he just shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Good, I like that. Now where’s next on our list?”

-

Next on their list turned out to be a bookstore. Not just a bookstore- one of those bookstores that had been in the same building for a century. Books were stacked on top of books, shelves formed a maze, organization was a myth: in short, it was a fire hazard and it was amazing.

Jason might have been a little in love.

“Wow.”

“Yeah?” Danny asked, shifting on his feet a little as he looked up at Jason from out under his bangs.

“Yeah, fish, this is great.”

Danny’s shoulders relaxed. “Good, then go look around and pick something out to take home, my treat.”

“I could be here for hours,” Jason warned, already starting down one of the narrow corridors.

“Then take hours,” Danny said, smiling indulgently as he followed him. “We just ate, the day is young. If I get done looking I’ll check out with anything I’ve found and just go read on a bench at the festival.”

“Text me if you do that?” Jason asked, tilting a book to see the title better.

“I will, promise, but right now I’ll stick with you.”

Jason reached out and squeezed Danny’s hand, taking them deeper into the shop. Danny followed along for about half an hour, Jason commenting to Danny on some of the things he was finding. He lost Danny what seemed to be the science section, of course, and continued to explore for almost another hour.

He really only stopped his exploring because he stumbled upon Danny in the back corner, curled up under a rosy light in an ancient armchair. Danny was completely engrossed in a book. Leaning against the bookcase, Jason took in the sight. There was a little, warmed part of him that almost ached at it. It was the sort of thing that he wanted to come home to.

After only a minute, Danny looked up, clearly feeling the eyes on him. Jason watched the smile bloom across Danny’s face.

“Hey,” Danny said quietly. “You look like you found quite a pile.”

“This?” Jason said, hefting the stack of books. “This is me being restrained.”

Danny laughed, uncurling and sliding off his seat before he grabbed another book from the end table beside him.

“You found some things also?” Jason asked as they walked towards the register.

“Yeah, a book on local ghost stories—” Jason couldn’t help the amused snort at that “—I know, I’m a walking cliché. And a journal of an inventor that I thought looked cool.”

“Ah, I see you’ve found your young man,” the elderly shopkeep said, putting down his own book. “Have you thought more about the astronomy book?”

“Oh, um, not today, I don’t have that much to spend,” Danny said, nearly mumbling the words.

Jason frowned a little. “I can get it for you, fish.”

“What, no! I’ve planned this date, I get to treat you,” Danny said.

“Alright,” Jason relented. “But only one of my books; you shouldn’t suffer because I’m a bibliophile.”

Danny narrowed his eyes at Jason for a moment before nodding. “Hum, fine, but not the cheapest ones.”

“I can settle on that,” Jason said with a little shrug.

While Danny was fishing his wallet out of his backpack, Jason caught the shopkeep’s eyes and mouthed at ‘Do you ship?’.

‘For your boy, I’ll make an exception’, the man wrote on the back of a business card that he tactfully slid over. Pleased, Jason subtly wrote out his address while the shop keep wrung them up, putting the astronomy book secretly on Jason’s bill. It did look like a lovely old book with the navy leather cover and gold foil. It could easily be a present for the holidays.

By the time they were back out out the street and walking through the market, Danny’s backpack hung heavy with the weight of the books, but he refused to let Jason carry it. Chivalry wasn’t dead, he insisted, which was ridiculous reason but Jason let him have it. The backpack filled up even more as they both bought a few things at the market to be presents (Jason thought Alfred would love the local tea blends especially).

More ciders and then hot chocolates were the drink of choice with dinner— potpie for Danny and fish cakes for Jason. As they ate a band set up in the pavilion in the middle of the square, playing with the setting sun. The light had just dipped below the horizon when Jason stood and offered Danny his hand.

“I will so step on your toes,” Danny warned, but he was smiling as he took Jason’s hand.

“That’s alright, I’ve got sturdy boots.”

They found a spot on the corner of the dance floor and Jason twirled Danny into his arms, earning a breathless little laugh for his efforts. It really was the perfect evening and a much needed break. Tomorrow he could get back to the city and being its protector and to the cases that were nagging at his mind, tonight was just about him and Danny and this odd little town.

-

Red Hood stumbled through the window of his safe house and hit the ground hard. The scream of pain choked off in the back of his throat as his body seized. Bloody fingers scrambled against the worn linoleum.

He needed to call someone. He wouldn’t make it if he didn’t call someone.

His comms were shorted out.

Something had had happened in the fight.

It had been the normal sort of trouble— a new shithead trying to bring new drug onto his streets. It should have been an easy bust. It had been an easy bust.

But then the feeling of burning had burst in Jason’s chest— a molten heat that he had felt so sure would consume him.

He had stumbled. It left an opening. Just enough space for a knife to catch him just wrong under the armpit. A bullet solved his immediate issues, but when Jason had tried his comms, there had only been static.

The staggering trip back to his closest safe house had been agonizing, but he needed to get to a working comm. He needed to get up and get to a working comm.

He got his arms under him. A scream of pain ripped from him as the twisting motion wrenched at the wound. Legs next. Push himself up.

Only a few feet to stagger.

Blood slicked fingers fumbled the comm. No no no— he couldn’t— Jason followed it to the ground as it dropped. He struggled to pick it up and activate it.

“Help.”

He couldn’t hear if anyone heard him. He didn’t even know what channel this comm was tuned to. Desperately, Jason ripped off his helmet and shoved the comm into his ear.

“Help.”

“Hood?”

Oh, it was Dick.

“Hood!?”

He sounded desperate.

Was he hurt? Someone was hurt. Jason had to…

“…help.”

-

Dick all but smashed through the window of the safe house. The only reason he didn’t break the glass was that if Jason was as hurt as Dick feared he was, Dick would need to be able to secure the safe house to treat Jason.

He was lucky that that the security was down.

He was terrified that the security was down.

Now worried of an ambush, Dick crept silently through the window. That was… that was a lot of blood.

“Jason, come on, please.” That was Fish’s voice.

Fish knew? Surely if Jason had told his boyfriend about the nightlife, he would have told Dick he had? What was…

Fish was cradling Jason to his chest, half propping him up. Blood pooled under them. Jason’s helmet was discarded to the side and his boyfriend had a tube of glowing green liquid lifted to Jason’s lips.

“Just drink up.”

Glowing green liquid.

“You’ll— you’ll be fine. Just drink up.”

Lazarus water.

“What the fuck are you doing to him?!?” Dick’s escrima sticks buzzed to life in his hands.

Fish’s head whipped towards him, color draining from his face. “It’s not— you have to let me—”

“Get the fuck away from him,” Dick growled, enunciating each word carefully.

The man slide his finger over the top of the tube, effectively capping it so not to spill. “Nightwing, he’s bleeding badly this can—”

Dick slid his foot forward just an inch, starting to shift his weight. “It can nothing. He would never want to use the Pit again!”

“It’s not— no, it’s not the Pit—”

He lunged.

The right stick hit, buzzing loudly on contact. The guy screamed at the impact, but held onto the vial of Lazarus water.

The guy’s other hand shot forward, Dick blocked with with his arm and twisted. His foot slipped— like stepping on wet sand. Dick contorted to compensate with his free hand.

His hand sunk into the floor.

Holy fuck—

Dick’s other hand was slammed down too, trapping it. No, no, no— Dick struggled against the floor that he was part sunk into, the cracking linoleum shifted slightly, but Dick was stuck.

“Oracle!”

Static answered him.

“What did you do to my comms,” Dick growled, watching as the guy pulled Jason back into his arms. Was this all a trap? Was Jason’s boyfriend sent by Talia or Ra’s and had just been binding his time? Was it all an act? Did the cheeky, laughing, bumbling man that Dick met last week not exist? Was the way that Danny looked at Jason a lie? “What did you do to Jason!?”

“I didn’t! I didn’t do anything, I found him like this,” he said. He used his thumb to part Jason’s lips.

“Stop it!”

He didn’t. He poured in that toxic, glowing green sludge down Jason’s throat, speaking softly in Jason’s ear the whole time.

Dick screamed and struggled against the floor. No, please no—

“…you can hate me. You can hate me and scream at me and hell, once Jason is stabilized I won’t try to stop you doing whatever you need to. But Jason is still bleeding out. The ectoshot will help, but it won’t fix it completely. I need you. I need you to help me sew up wherever he’s bleeding from and, I don’t know, get a transfusion going. I don’t know where things are in this place.” He looked up at Dick from under his bangs and Dick could see in the now glowing green eyes some of the same guy— the same fish that he had met last week. “Please, feel however you want about me, but help me save him. He needs both of us right now, okay?”

Dick didn’t know what to say; didn’t know if he was about to make a deal with the devil.

“Please. If I free you, will you help? Just— punch me after if you need to, just help me save him first.”

That devil was the only thing keeping Jason alive.

Why did it always end up like this for his brother?

“Let me up.” Fuck everything. “I promise, I won’t try anything until after Jason is safe.”

The guy studied him for a moment before nodding. He laid Jason down carefully and reached out to Dick. The buzzing tingled through Dick’s skin again and he was able to pull his hands and feet free of the floor, one at a time.

Dick really wanted punch the guy right then and there.

Jason was more important.

“Get Jason’s jacket off, I think it’s a torso wound— maybe his left arm,” he ordered instead as he moved to the fridge to get a blood bag to start it thawing. “Find it and put pressure on it.”

He could punch someone after Jason was saved.

-----

AN: You should never trust me when I have a character goes 'ah yes, I'll worry about that tomorrow'. But remember, if you pitchfork me, I can't write the rest of this~ I'll try to spare you all and have the next part next week if I can! It will go into how Danny was there too.

Special shout out to @mokulule for making it worse! Trapping Dick in the floor was her idea. As she pointed out- he'll have nightmares about this now. (So sorry Dick.)

But look how cute the first part of the chapter was! That's good, right? Stay delightful darlings, don't stab me!

Due to being shadow banned (likely from tagging) and the new post editor, I'm not longer tagging! Follow the link and subscribe to be notified instead!

[beautifulchris]

fate brought us together again

a sequel to love die young

⤷ pairing: bang chan x gn!reader

⤷ genre: smau w/ a few written parts, fluff, angst, humor, romance, drama, college!au, exes to lovers!au

⤷ tw: will put them accordingly to each chapter but mostly swearing

⤷ synopsis: after spending two years abroad, you come back to the only college that accepted you; the same chris goes to

⤷ featuring: stray kids, loona's olivia hye, nct's mark, an oc, itzy's ryujin and yuna, enhypen's jake, p1harmony's intak… more to come

⤷ disclaimer: ignore the timestamps i have no time for this hhh; you might find typos despite my efforts so i apologize in advance; almost none of the pics used in this au are mine: © to rightful owners; none of this is meant to represent anyone in real life; this is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only!

⤷ notes: header made by me. you don't have to read the prequel to understand but i would appreciate it if you did :)

updates: every other day, 8pm CET

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @straykidsland @kwritersworld

taglist: @soobin-chois @raethethey open!

status: completed

started: 15/07 10/07 as a gift for 100 followers❤️

completed: 31/08

profiles — road trip adventurers | it wasn't me | extras

chapter one — coming back home

chapter two — first day

chapter three — who's y/n?

chapter four — new friends

chapter five — "you wish you were me so bad"

chapter six — senses are sensing

chapter seven — i've heard of him (lying)

chapter eight — i miss you

chapter nine — i have no fear.

chapter ten — team 60

chapter eleven — opportunities (w)

chapter twelve — don't start a battle you'll lose

chapter thirteen — sick joke (w)

chapter fourteen — what are friends for

chapter fifteen — revelations

chapter sixteen — friends? (w)

chapter seventeen — i hate you guys

chapter eighteen — down memory lane (w)

chapter nineteen — manzoned

chapter twenty — embrace (w)

chapter twenty one — go get your man (w)

chapter twenty two — chrizz

chapter twenty three — everybody else knew

chapter twenty four — double sense

chapter twenty five — fate

epilogue (w)

[calderacitylovers]

Zutara SlowBurn FanFiction: Personal Favs, part I

·        I AM STILL HERE by owedbetter Published: 2017-10-09 | 77K words | 7 Chapters

After the Last Agni Kai K heals Z with the help of bloodbending. Very sweet.

 ·        THE SUMMIT by AJLenoire

Chronicles post-war years, as Gaang and other characters gather for annual summits to keep peace and build relationships between the Four Nations. Katara yearns for a bigger purpose than the Avatar’s companion and slowly grows into a shrewd diplomat. Very sweet slow burn ZK story. Has mature scenes.

 ·        CLOTHE ME IN SEASONS, DRESS ME IN SNOW by sadladybug Published: 2015-01-05 | 62K words | 7 Chapters

Follows old Zuko as he reflects on his life and what would have been if he kept Katara closer. Absolutely beautiful, but also a devastatingly heart-breaking story about loss and pain.

 ·        SILENT DECLARATIONS by Megara Pike (Megara_Pike) Published: 2021-01-20 | 2,6K words

A short story based on animation by Hayley Wong. Z finds K asleep in her study and carries her to bed. Very sweet, gentle story.

 ·        COVERED IN YOU by evergreenonthehorizon Published: 2021-04-02 | 55K words | 14 Chapters

Eight years after the war Z convinces K to take on a role of a Southern Water Tribe ambassador in the Caldera city. Both are completely clueless about each other’s feelings. Features political talks, big gestures, and a ball. Very cute, sweet slow-burn story. Has mature scenes.

 ·        TEN STRIDES IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION by evergreenonthehorizon Published: 2021-04-03 | 29K Words | 12 Chapters

A collection of short stories filling in the gaps between some of the events of ATLAS3 and up to the Last Agni Kai. Features accidental cuddling, embracing in the rain, sharing a bed for warmth, post-Ember Island Theater discussions, being discovered, waiting to be kissed, Suki & Katara being good friends, battle plans, Zuko & Sokka getting drunk, slow burn & angst. Very sweet.

 ·        THE SWAY OF THE SUN by TheBlackBriarSparrow Published: Published: 2019-10-14 | 102K Words | 27 Chapters

Two years post-war Gaang reunites in Caldera city for a secret party in honor of the overworked Fire Lord’s birthday. Rebels attack the palace setting a thrilling consequence of events in motion. Adventures, investigations, and fights ensue. Z & K work together and enlist old friends to help find missing people. Beautiful slow-burn story with an exciting plot.

·        A WARM EMBRACE by ewinkie Published: 2020-10-06 | 19K Words | 7 Chapters

An ATLAS3 rewrite from Southern Riders to the Last Agni Kai. Katara and Zuko have to hide in a cave following their encounter with Yon Rha. Comforting turns to cuddling, which turns to waking up on Appa's tail in each other's arms. Katara is shocked at how comfortable she is. Zuko is shocked that Katara doesn't hate him for it. Features sharing a bed, being discovered, slowburn, and lots of teenage silliness.

 ·        FOLLOWING BLUE by Boogum Published: 2018-11-07 | 39K Words | 10 Chapters

ATLA S2 rewrite. After Katara falls from Appa’s saddle during a pursuit, the Blue Spirit becomes her reluctant companion and helps her reunite with her friends. Ba Sing Se scenes are completely rewritten, and Z ends up joining the Gaang much earlier. Thrilling beginning, sweet middle, average ending.

 ·        ANOTHER WORD FOR ALCHEMY by FanPanda13 Published: 2014-08-19 | 108K words | 24 Chapters

Five years post-war Aang summons old friends for a summit and invites them on a trip to investigate mysterious locations where he experiences loss of bending. Features Gaang setting Z & K up, travelling on Appa like in the olden days, lots of sparring, royal courting, magnificent navy ships & war ballons. Thrilling story with fun banter between old friends. Slowburn, mature content.

 ·        CONSUME ME WITH FIRE, FLOOD ME WITH DESIRE by Dacamia Published: 2020-08-14 | 86K words | 24 Chapters

Steamy ATLAS2 and ATLA S3 rewrite. Z & K accidentally meetup on their way to Ba Sing Se and decide to travel together. Features aged-up characters, lots of intimate scenes, staying in a beautiful cave, helping villagers, betrayal in Ba Sing Se, reunion, forgiveness, etc. Explicit mature content.

 ·        ROOTS AND WINGS by zukoscomet Published: 2020-08-14 | 250K words | 25 Chapters

A series of short stories of Z & K as they grow closer, confess their love for one another and start a family.

 ·        THOSE WHO FAVOR FIRE by hiwasseelane Published: 2021-05-02 |29K Words | 13 Chapters

An ATLAS3 rewrite. Sweet, teen-appopriate.

Here’s a link to Part II of my personal favs.

Here’s a link to Wholesome Zutara Short Stories.

[mrs-willow]

"A Raven and a Falcon" benji x oc

Disclaimer: I am not familiar with the Dance of Dragons books or the accurate storyline, so I have decided to change it to fit this story. I could not find an exact or reliable family tree for either House Blackwood or House Arryn, so I just made my own characters.  

The dance never actually happens!!! Viserys doesn’t die until he reaffirms Rhaenyra as his heir, and after that big family dinner, Rhaenyra returns on Dragon back, and she and Alicent talk out everything. There are mutual apologies, tears, laughter, and everyone lives. 

This is a sappy slow burn with angst, fluff, smut later, and everything I make up when I disassociate.  

This is literally my first post on here or any other website, so please be nice. I am writing this solely for my own enjoyment… there needs to be more Benjicot Blackwood material on this app.  However, I would still love feedback, and if there is something that you think would add to the story, message me, and I’ll see what I can do. 

Summary: Lady Lillian of the House Arryn reaches her eight and ten in a fortnight and has yet to be wed or promised to another Lord. After returning from Kings Landing for the coronation of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, she is informed of her Father and brother's plans to wed her to a man she has only seen glimpses of and whose reputation is insanity and bloodlust. Lillian learns to love this new stranger, or will she be forced into a life of loneliness and solitude and made to produce heirs until she dies?

Warnings: smut (later), blood, violence, cursing, period typical sexism, alternating POVs, (idk lmk if I should add more stuff)

Chapter 1

As Caelan strode through the corridors of the Eyrie he pondered the rumors of the castle being haunted just as Harenhall is. The man had grown up running through these halls with his siblings, escaping the septas and playing games of war and duels, and yet he could not remember the strange sound of wind whistling through the columns and doorways, creating the strange feeling that someone was trying to speak with you. That fate awaits one as one grows from boy to man. 

Caelans riding boots echo on the dark stone as he makes his way to the Arryn family's apartments. The decorations adorning the walls turn from mosaic replicas of the vast mountain range the Castle was built in, with striking figures of falcons soaring through twenty-foot billowing clouds to soft tapestries displaying a man, his wife, and four beaming blonde children. Metalwork of falcons and moons adorns the tall arches of doorways, and vases of flows rode in from the reach sit colorfully in vases. 

This deep into the castle, the man and the flowers are protected from the harsh rain and winds whipping through the outermost corridors and open rooms. Still, as he enters Lord Arryns personal study, Caelan finds all four hearths of the great room lit as the aging man cannot escape the chill of a month's travel on the King's Road during winter.

At the sound of someone entering the great room, the old man looks up from the pages he had previously been contemplating. It's funny how a few words can cause so much stress. Robert Arryn was a kind man, loved by his bannerman, and respected in court and on the battlefield. His Knights of the Vale were among the fiercest armies in the Seven Kingdoms and were recently praised by the new Queen Rhaenyra when Robert matched them south as a show of support for the true Queen and a warning for those who mean to harm her. Among his Knights, the Seasnakes Armada, the Blackwood host, and the Northmen showed formidable support for their true queen. Yet, Robert is no longer a twenty-year-old man poised for battle and all manner of foolish, daring adventures, and this long trip has taken its toll on the man's bones.

He muttered as he met his son at the table. 

“The realms delight should’ve lived up to the title and held the coronation in spring to spare all us old men the pain of the cold set into our bones.” 

The young man subtly rolled his eyes away from his disgruntled father. “If you had listened to my warnings of the rain while on horseback, perhaps you would not be in such discomfort, Father,” Caelan teased with a small smirk. 

Robert sent the young man his most fearsome glare, “I will not be laughed at in my own home, boy. Now go get your father a pelt so he might not freeze to death in the damn winter.” 

Calan rose, joking that the “bloody Starks are always right at some point. Winter is Here.” 

The two men sat side by side momentarily, gazing into the crackling fire. One old man sat grateful that he had not been called to fight another war, “so much death and cruelty in the world,” he thought, “thank the old gods and the new that my children will not know war.” The younger man sat gazing at the flames, contemplating his father's reasons for calling him here at such a late hour with the castle all but asleep. His mind immediately drifted to the worst reasons for the summoning, and he prayed his worries would soon be eased when his Lord Father stopped being such a dramatic old crow.

“Father, why have you summoned me at such an odd hour?” Caelan questioned. The man knew better than to press his father for answers and thus sat patiently like a little boy waiting for his father's commands. 

Robert sighed. He then rose and retrieved the papers he had been studying when Caelan first arrived in the study. Wordlessly, Robert handed the letter to his son and resumed his place at the table, once again falling silent.

As Caelan reads the letter addressed to Lord Robert Arryn of the Vale, the reality of getting older becomes present and clear as the childhood he once knew begins to fade into blurry memories filled with love and laughter.

Caelan reaches his father's eyes, “Lillian is to be…” he pauses and lets his father's eyes answer his question. 

“She is to be Married,” Robert affirms. “She is nearly ten and eight; the time has come, and it would do her more harm than good to shelter her here until it truly is impossible for us to let her go or her to let us.”

Caelan leans back in the oversized chair he adorns, “She will be livid,” he warns his father. 

“Aye,” Robert agrees, “but that is the way of things and she cannot hide in these mountains forever.” 

“Father, I agree, but truly to that man?” Caelan questions. “You cannot possibly think that giving Lillian to a psycho would be wise?”

“Mind your tongue, boy,” Robert warns. “His father is one of my oldest friends and closest allies.” Robert reminds his emotional Son.

“Yes, of course, but that does not discredit the news we hear of his son. We mu-”

Robert rose swiftly from his chair, “I will hear none of this. Samwell Blackwood and I were raised side by side. We learned to shoot, ride, and wield swords together, and I trust that the man I grew up with raised a son who is equally honorable and just as he is.”

Caelan slumped forward, defeated. “At least allow me to inform her of this change to her life?” the man asked. “She will be more forgiving if it comes from me rather than you.”

Robert sighed. He felt pride swell in his breast for his eldest son and his three younger children. He was proud to have raised them in a manner that made them friends and confidants rather than enemies. He knew then and there that his eldest son would be equally loved and honored as Lord of the Vale when death came for him. 

“I will allow it, but it must be done in the morning. She will leave the day following her name day.” 

“Thank you, father. If I may retire to my chambers, I sense tomorrow will be a trying day.” 

Robert raised his hand and bid his son a good night, then called after him, “Caelan? Please tell her that I’m sorry.”

Caelan paused and sighed, “Father, you must tell her this yourself. Soon, she will no longer be a short walk from your own chamber.”

With that, the heir to House Arryn headed back toward his chambers and noticed that the howling in the halls sounded sweater, slightly more musical and feminine.

Back in the study, Lord Arryn stood in front of the hearth in contemplation. He reminisced about the times his family was still whole and couldn’t help but feel that he was chipping away yet another piece of his soul in allowing his daughter to leave the safety of her family.   

[redlittlefoxari]

An Adventure in making life Chapter 7: Let the water wash you clean

Relationship: Astarion x Tav

Warnings: NSFW 18+, smut, blood, violence, sex, blood drinking, pregnancy. *This chapter contains smut*

Summary: With Hormones are ragging through Tav’s body and morning sickness becoming a regular thing tempers clash, questions are raised and Tav is at her limit.

Master list

Tag list: @lunaredgrave

If you would also like to be added to the tag list just let me know.

Weeks pregnant Ten

It had been three weeks since the ruins, and you and Astarion hadn’t let your guard down for a second. There had been nothing since the ruins other than a few merchant carts making their way to Baldur’s Gate. They had all reported that their trip from Waterdeep had been going swimmingly and that the rest of their journey would probably go much the same. Still, the two of you decided to play it safe and stay on high alert for the remainder of your journey.

It was at this point that Jaheira advised you to start taking the herbs she gave you for the development of your unborn child. They didn’t taste great, but you had been dealing with drinking blood for the last ten weeks, so their grassy flavor didn’t bother you much. Astarion had gotten up before you to find the two of you something to eat, meaning a deer or whatever he could find. You told him you didn’t want to know what it was from just in case it was from an animal that was less than desirable.

While you waited, you chewed on a piece of dried meat that you had bought in the last town you passed through. It was sweet and salty and had been marinated in hot peppers before being dried. It was delicious, which was odd because you never really liked spicy food before the pregnancy, but now it became something you craved alongside sweet treats. You hoped that this didn’t mean your child would have a fiery personality. That was the last thing you needed. A hard-to-tame half-vampire child.

The thought crossed your mind suddenly. Would your child be able to go out in the sun? Or would the sun's fiery rays burn them like they did Astarion? The idea of your child being born unable to walk in the sun made your heart hurt. The child wouldn’t understand and what would happen if they crawled into the sunlight? Would you have to shut all the doors and curtains, never allowing them out during the day?

You shook the thought from your mind. There was still plenty of time to do some research and figure this out. There was no need to worry yourself thinking about something that may not even be a possibility. There was just as high of a chance that they would inherit your ability to walk in the sun.

You finished the dried meat and cleaned your hands of the grease that was left over. It was time to get dressed and get this day of your journey started. You grabbed your pants and put them on each of your legs without any problems. It was when you tried to button them together that you hit your first hurdle. They wouldn’t button.

You began to fight with the pants, trying with all your might to get them to close to no avail. You looked down to see that your stomach, which was once inconspicuous, now had a noticeable bump that was making it impossible to button your armor closed.

You cursed and suddenly felt a wave of nausea hit you as you barely had time to make it out the tent flaps and turn left into the bushes before you were emptying your stomach contents into the shrubbery. It was a long while until your stomach felt satisfied that it had given up all that it needed to, and by that time, the others in the camp had already started to come out and see what was going on.

“Went a little heavy with the wine again, I see.” Shadowheart had a touch of superiority in her voice that usually didn’t bother you, but for some reason, today, it just rubbed you the wrong way.

“I don’t think that's any of your concern.” You straightened your back and sucked in your stomach the best you could to hide your bump.

She looked down at your unbuttoned pants in confusion. “Are you still so drunk that you can’t even button your own pants?”

“Come on, you two, it's too early for this.” Wyll tried to chime in to stop the fight that was surely about to break out, but his efforts were in vain.

“I’m not drunk. I just suddenly got sick in the middle of my changing and needed to run outside, so I didn’t paint the walls of my tent! I don’t appreciate being interrogated every time something happens to me that you disagree with.” You turned your back to her and grabbed your bag of soaps. “I’m going to the river to clean myself. Can I go, or do you need to question me about that, too?”

You didn’t give her the chance to answer as you stormed off in the direction of the river that was just south of your camp. It was about when you were halfway to the shore that you realized you had no idea what the hells just happened or why you just got so mad at your friend.

“You're doing this to me.” You looked down and pointed to your bump. “You're making me do crazy things… I knew I shouldn’t eat spicy food.”

You let out a heavy sigh. Well, there was no sense in worrying about it now. You would just have to make amends when you got back to camp. Say something about how waking up and vomiting your guts out made you less than hospitable in the mornings.

Or maybe it was time to come clean about what was going on with you. You wanted to wait so that your news wouldn’t outshine Gale’s, but it was growing increasingly difficult to keep this hidden from everyone. You couldn’t hide the fact that your armor didn’t fit anymore. You needed to wear it for your own protection. You supposed that you could just say that you thought it was unnecessary because all the merchants you passed over the last three weeks said that their travels were fine. But what if that was just their good fortune and the rest of your travel would spell disaster? There was just no way to tell. If only you were a divination wizard.

You finally made it to the bank of the river and decided that since you were already here, you would do what you told everyone you were going to do. You slowly stripped off your pants and kicked them away for good measure; they were part of the damn problem. Then you took off your undershirt that went between you and your armor, throwing it over to where the pants ended up.

You looked down and saw a body you did not recognize. Breasts almost double the size of what they were before. Hips wider and fuller are also part of the problem as to why the pants didn’t fit and a small round belly protruding out where your baby rested safe and warm in your belly. You cradled that part of you and smiled, the only thing you liked about yourself at the moment.

You walked into the water with your bag of soap and took it out, getting it wet and starting to lather your skin with it. The soap smelled of lilac and blackberries. After you were done washing your arms, legs, and torso, you walked further into the water to wet your hair. The water was cold and caused you to shiver as you submerged yourself in it fully sinking under the water. You stayed under the water for a few seconds, enjoying the calmness you felt. The lack of sound in a world full of it.

When you finally came up for air you heard your name being called out. The voice sounded frantic and scared. You recognized the voice as belonging to Astraion in your haste to get away from the others at camp; you forgot that he wasn’t there. He had no idea where you were or what had happened; he probably showed up to camp, and you simply weren’t there.

“I’m okay! I’m just in the water.” You started to make your way back to the shore. The look of worry on his face was still ever present.

“What were you thinking, leaving without saying a word? You don’t even have any of your weapons; what if someone was out here and attacked you.” He shouted at you, but his voice broke at the end of his words.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just…” You fully step out of the water. Your body is on full display. “I Just needed some air… I needed to get clean.”

Your voice shook as you spoke. Embarrassment filled your every pore as you felt Astarion’s eyes on your body. “I got sick, and my pants don’t fit anymore, and I…” You felt yourself start to cry.

Astarion’s face melted from anger to worry the second your tears sprung free of your eyes. “You’re feeling self-conscious? You?”

“Of course I am! Look at me!” You gestured to your whole self. “My hips are huge, my clothes don’t fit, and I’m picking fights for no reason I can’t stop throwing up, and I’m….”

“Beautiful.” Astarion cut you off.

“Excuse you?”

“The fertility goddess herself couldn’t compare to you, my love.” He moved closer to you and hesitated. “May I touch you?”

You shook your head no, wrapping your arms around your body. Despite his words, you didn’t feel like they were true. Hallow words meant to flatter you and make you feel better. But deep down, you didn’t want to feel better. You wanted to wallow in self-pity and believe that all your fears were genuine. It was easier to believe in yourself than to trust others. Your own body was betraying you; why wouldn’t everyone else?

“Then I won’t touch you. Do you want me to leave?” Astarion stood still, almost as if he was in front of a wild deer, and he didn’t want to scare it away.

“No…”

“Do you want to sit down and talk?”

“Yes.” You walked to a patch of grass, picking up your shirt on the way and covering yourself with it.

Astarion sat next to you but allowed for some distance between the two of you. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me why my strong, beautiful, caring partner suddenly thinks she’s as ugly as a hag when she is far from it.”

“I don’t know…. I feel like a stranger in my own skin. Every time I wake up, something new about me has changed. I guess I’m just tired.” You hugged your knees to your chest.

“Darling, there is nothing wrong with change. Every day I wake up next to you, I thank the gods that I have you because you helped me change into the man I am today.” Astarion looked off into the distance. “When we first met, I was broken… I trusted no one and only strived for power so that no one could ever take advantage of me, and then there you were. You were everything that I wished I could be; you oozed self-confidence. Everyone listened to you when you spoke and did as you said. That's part of the reason why I seduced you.”

You remember back to his love confession when he confessed to having been using you the whole time for protection. That was until he started to feel the same feelings for you that you did for him. Through you, he had opened up and learned to trust again. Learned to love someone and get back his bodily autonomy.

“I remember. You fell so hard for me.” You smiled.

“Yes, I did. I felt like an idiot that even though I was manipulating you somehow without even trying, I did what I was trying to do, but even better. Truly, you are amazing.” You unwrapped one of your arms from your legs and reached for his hand. He wove his fingers into yours.

“I’m sorry. I just…. I listen to these words in my head, and they make me feel like there’s something wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you. Your body is changing; for god's sake, you are growing a new person inside of you. And I mean it when I say you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen and have become ten times more beautiful since you’re carrying my child inside you.”

Your cheeks felt hot. “Do you really mean that?”

“Every word.” Astarion paused and then continued. “May I show you?”

This time, you nodded your head yes.

Astarion moved so that he was kneeling before you, pausing to check if you were really okay. You nodded again, confirming you wanted to see what he was going to do.

“Lay down on your back if you would be so kind.” You did as he asked, placing your hands over your stomach. “Hands at your side, please.” You hesitated. “I want to show you just how beautiful I think you are.”

You slowly moved your hands off of your stomach and to your sides. “I’m not sure how this will…”

Astarion placed a light kiss on your tiny baby bump. “This is the best gift you could have given me.” He kissed the same area but in a different spot again. “For so long, I felt alone. I had no family but for the one Cazador made, but that was never truly a family.” He kissed a third time. “You have given me a chance at family again, something that I thought was lost the moment I became a vampire.”

Your eyes met the red of his, and you felt the gravity of his words. “I really am stupid….”

“Not stupid, just hormonal. pregnancy brain is a real thing, darling.” Astarion moved so that he was level with your face. “But it gives me a great excuse to tell you everything I truly feel and wow you with romanticism.”

“I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” You threw your head back. “And I want my damn pants to fit.”

“We can work something out. It’s just two more weeks till we’re in Waterdeep, and we can buy you a whole new wardrobe.” He scrunched his brows together. “This will pass; you are still the strongest person I know and the most beautiful behind me, of course.”

You sat up abruptly and jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

“I don’t think this is going to get the reaction you want. I’m liking the view all too much, and I’m into this kind of thing.” He shot you a devilish smile.

“How do you know that I don’t want what you're thinking? And I know you like this.”

You leaned down and bit him hard on the left side of his neck, puncturing his skin and drawing blood. You sucked greedily at the holes you made in his neck until you heard a moan escape his lips. You pulled your lips away from his neck, where a large purple bruise started to form where you sucked.

“What do you think, Astarion? Is there anywhere else you want me to suck?” Your mouth was close to his ear as you spoke. And it dawned on you that pregnancy really was crazy. Just a few moments ago, you didn’t want anything to do with him, and now here you are craving the feel of him.

“I have some ideas, but for now, let me taste myself on your tongue.” Astarion pulled you to his lips. The taste of his blood was heavy on your tongue. He pushed through your lips quickly, and your tongues danced together.

You broke the kiss, wanting to tease him. It was only fair for all the times he teased you throughout the years. “Only a taste, Astarion, for I am not done tasting you.”

“Fuck.” He had a haze of lust as he watched you plant light kisses down his body, untucking his shirt to touch your lips to his skin.

You made your way to the waistband of his pants, barely looking up at him to meet his eyes. “Take these off.”

“You don’t have to ask twice.” Astarion pulled his waistband down just enough so that his length sprung free.

You grasped it gently at the base, placing your lips so that they just hovered above the head. Astarion waited with bated breath, his anticipation of what you were going to do. There was a question in his gaze.

You licked the tip of him lazily, causing a shudder to go through him that you felt at the base. You continued to lick lazy circles around his head. Every so often, a moan would escape deep in his throat. You did this for a few minutes, never going beyond the tip, teasing him with every stroke of your tongue.

“Are you going to tease me the whole time, or am I going to feel release?” Astarion’s voice shook his arousal plane to see in your hands.

You stopped and appeared to think for a moment. Playing out like you were contemplating something. “Maybe if you beg.”

Astarion let out a huff of air. “Please.”

“You can do better than that.” You accented every word so that a puff of air hit his tip.

“Please, I want to feel myself at the back of your throat.”

You nodded your approval and took him into your mouth, giving into his requests and taking him as far as you dared. His head lulled back as his fingers grasped the grass for some stability. You moved your lips back up his length, stopping just before leaving him entirely before going back down. You picked up the pace, throwing in intermittent twirls of your tongue around his tip to stroke and get him closer to his release.

He wove his fingers through your hair, and along with the gasps of pleasure that existed, his lip let you know that he was close to release. You sucked harder but kept the same pace as you felt Astarion's whole body tense, and as you felt his muscles release, you felt his warm seed hit the back of your throat. You swallowed it all and cleaned his tip before looking up at his face through the stray hairs that now covered your face.

“Gods, you look even more beautiful with me in you.” His voice was laced with pleasure, his eyes looking as if he wished to devour you.

“I know.” You moved from between his legs, grabbing your shirt from where you last placed it. “We should probably get back to the others… I need to apologize to Shadowheart.” You pulled your shirt over your head.

“Not until I return the favor.”

“I don’t think we have time for you to return the favor, but tonight, seek out my bedroll. I might let you in.” You placed a kiss on his lips.

“So I’m to just go about my day thinking about what you just did to me and stew about it?” Astarion pouted.

“Not stew plan. You’ll have all day to think of a way to get back at me.” You reached for your pants and frowned.

“You’re right.” He looked at you, holding your pants. “We can fix them so that they fit. Put them on.”

You did as he said, putting on the pants and trying to button them closed again and failed to do so. “Does the breastplate still fit?” He asked once he saw you try and fail to fasten your pants.

“Barley, but I think it will.” You tree up your hands.

“Let’s go back to camp, and we’ll attach the breastplate to the pants, which should keep them up for today, and then we’ll buy you some new armor at the next town we stop in.”

You nodded your agreement. “That’s the only thing we can do.”

“It will all work out just a few more weeks, and we can tell everyone our dirty little secret, and we won’t have to hide anything anymore.” He grabbed your hand to reassure you. “Everything will be alright. And no one cares that you yelled at Shadowheart; she is far too nosy.”

“I’m still going to apologize.”

You walked back to camp with Astarion to find that the others were waiting at the fire that was now just embers. They had already packed up their tents and seemed to be waiting for you and Astarion to come back and do the same. Shadowheart stood and walked towards the two of you with a look of relief on her face.

“I hope everything is alright…. I shouldn’t have just assumed that you drank too much last night; you've been sick this whole journey, it seems.” She didn’t meet your eyes.

“Yes, we'll, I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you… it’s not like I told you about my… sickness.” You decided to grasp onto the fact that she thought you had something wrong with you that was making you so sick.

“Is it something I can heal?” She asked, finally looking at you.

“No, I don’t think so… it will pass; I just need time.” You gave her a small smile.

“Alright, next time, I’ll hold your hair back so you don’t have to go to the river next time and make us all late to start today.” You knew her words were meant to be playful, not harmful.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to cool off. But I’ll go get ready now.” She gave you a curt nod.

You and Astarion went into the two of your tents and proceeded to fix your pants to your breastplate. With Astarion’s skills with a needle and thread, it looked as if nothing was a miss. Satisfied with his stitch job, the two of you then set to cleaning up and putting away your tent. In twenty minutes, you were packed up and ready to hit the road, no one mentioning the argument from earlier or the purple bruise that had already begun to fade on Astarion’s neck.

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twenty-One

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty,

A/N: All aboard the tear express!

She blinked at the four smiling faces in front of her.

"A vacation?" She parroted what Sokka had just exclaimed. Her unenthusiastic response did deflate a few shoulders, but Aang pushed ahead.

"Yeah! We've been flying around so much that Sokka thought it would be great if we just had a couple of days of pure relaxation. And what better place then at a secluded hot spring." He gestured grandly towards the canyon behind him.

True to his words, the round basin did boast quite an impressive spring that looked inviting. Not to mention it was surrounded from all sides by tall rocky walls, so they could bend to their heart's content.

Looking over his shoulder, Orora pursed her lips before shrugging. "I guess. As long as Sokka doesn't think it'll come in the way of his big trip." She looked towards him.

Where she would've made a little joke about his tendency to over-plan and over-think things, she remained silent. Sokka tried not to let his worry show, so he simply smiled wildly. "Not at all." He said, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Beside, no offense Orora, but we've been traveling more then you have, and I think we've become pros at this traveling thing."

He gave her a grin before stepping away. "Now lets have some good old vacation fun!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air as Toph earthbended the rocky platform they were standing on and down to the water.

Orora remained nearly unfazed.

Prompting Aang and Katara to share a look of worry.

                                           ————————–

This was ridiculous.

This wasn't a vacation.

They were being sent away. That was it.

It had to be.

Scowling to himself, Zuko shoved the last of his clothes into the bag he would be taking to Ember Island. What in the Spirit World had possessed his father to have them go on a trip to relax?

How could he think about relaxing when all his mind could think about was Orora and nothing else.

Well not nothing else, there was the fact that Aang was still alive. But that hardly mattered.

What mattered was going away to Ember Island meant he would be mostly alone with his own thoughts. Not that he wasn't alone here, he was always by himself. But at least there were ways to distract himself. Practicing his firebending and learning the more advanced sets, using his Dao swords to keep his skills with the weapons sharp, reading in the library and learning the more intricate ways the Fire Nation worked.

His father was actually rather impressed with how fast he was progressing. He had no idea, that his son was working himself to the bone so he wouldn't have to think of her.

Then again, no matter how much he tried, there was no escaping her.

She was always there, in the back of his mind, lingering just beyond his conscious thoughts.

Opening the door beside his bed, he paused. His gaze was fixed upon the comb he had kept near him since his return to the Fire Nation. He wasn't doing himself any favors by keeping it with him. Looking at it everyday just reminded him of the fact that they weren't together.

And would likely never be together since she was out there and he was here.

Right, he scoffed to himself, as if that were the only reason for the distance between them, he thought as that all too familiar guilt licked along just under his skin.

Shaking his head, he picked up the comb and wrapping it carefully in a red silk cloth, placed it at the very bottom of his bag under a false opening lest someone, his sister, find it.

                                           ————————–

"Hey Orora!"

She looked up from where she had been flicking tiny stones with the tip of her finger and into the water. The small plinking of the stones as they hit the surface of the water was oddly comforting. Toph approached her with a determined gait and a grin on her lips.

"You promised me a bending duel." She said, pointing a finger at the older girl. She'd already dressed down to her swimming outfit, everyone had really. Orora had stayed dressed.

"So come on Ice Princess! There isn't much metal around, but that won't stop me from beating your butt." She added with a slight punch to her shoulder. Orora rubbed the sore spot before sighing deeply. "Not right now Toph." She finally said, turning her attention back to staring at the water. "I'm tired."

Toph stayed standing behind Orora for a good few minutes, though the other girl didn't even notice. She continued her little game of flicking tiny stones into the water. Her heartbeat felt so slow and dull, Toph realized, looking worriedly back at Sokka who was standing just a few paces away.

He moved forward, placing a hand on her shoulder and pulling her back. Toph followed his lead, though not before looking back sadly at the girl she looked up to and had come to consider as an older sister.

She hadn't even noticed the new nickname Toph had given her.

                                           ————————–

"Hey Orora!"

It was midday, and the other four had been swimming for quite some time now, but everyone was starting to get hungry and Sokka had opted to catch them their lunch.

Which he decided was the perfect opportunity to teach Orora how to fish.

The girl in question looked up from where she had been sitting on Appa's tail. The bison didn't seem to mind, and it was better then sitting on the rocky floor. At least his tail was soft. She tore her gaze away from the never-ending blue sky overhead to blink at Sokka. "Yeah?" She said, her voice lacking any emotion. Despite the worry gnawing at his heart, Sokka grinned.

"Remember I promised I'd teach you some more stuff other then hand to hand." He paused, waiting for her to respond, but she stayed silent. Clearing his throat he continued. "Well! I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to teach you how to fish!" So saying he whipped out a fishing rod and with a hook at the end of it, which he had been unsuccessfully hiding behind his back.

The boy grinned. "Come on! It'll be fun, and you can even use your waterbending to find some fish, though I would prefer we do it the old fashioned way." He added, flicking the rod and catching the bottom of his shirt in the hook. It caught the fabric, making him scowl in annoyance as he tried to pull it out.

Though he stopped when Orora sighed. "Not right now Sokka." She said in a low voice, turning so her back was to him and she could instead look across the spring in front of her. "I'm tired."

The exact same response as she had given Toph, and maybe it was his imagination, but she sounded even more sadder then before. Glancing over his shoulder he caught the worried look on his sister's face. She gestured for him to step away and he did.

But not before he glanced back at Orora. She may be older then him by a few months, but that didn't mean he didn't worry about her like he did Katara.

He did manage to catch some fish, and he did notice that Orora's fish went untouched.

                                           ————————–

"Hey Orora!"

It was almost evening, the sun had begun to set and the sky was turning a pretty pink and orange. She'd been staring at the sky for quite some time now, but at the sound of her name, she lifted her head.

It felt so heavy that she almost dropped right back.

Katara smiled above her. "You know it's gonna be a clear night and the moon will be out." She gestured to the large body of water that was at their disposal. "I could teach you some new waterbending forms and maybe you could teach me that new technique you came up with. I'd love to use my legs and feet for waterbending too."

The young girl looked at her eagerly. There was no way Orora would be able to resist the chance to learn some new forms. Nor would she pass up teaching what she had taught to Katara. Early on Orora had told her how much she enjoyed teaching someone something, anything really. So long as she knew what she was doing effected someone's life in a positive manner.

However, Katara's hopes were in vain. "Not right now Katara." She said the exact same words she had told Sokka and Toph. "I'm tired." The words sounded rehearsed, as if she had been repeating them over and over in her head, just so she could say them correctly.

The hopeful look in Katara's soft blue eyes diminished as she watched her older sister turn away from her and lay there as if she were.........

Tears stung her eyes and she nearly reached out to grab Orora's shoulder. But a hand on hers stopped her. She looked up at Aang who shook his head. Sighing in defeat, Katara stepped back. Aang squeezed her hand in comfort as the both of them walked away to where Sokka and Toph stood waiting.

"Now what?" Toph asked. Aang sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the still form of his older sister. "Now, I try to get through to her my way."

                                           ————————–

"Hey Orora."

Her position hadn't changed from where she'd been staring up at the sky. She had been observing the changing colors of the sky, she now focused on the twinkling stars. At the sound of her name, she shifted her head to look at Aang.

It felt too heavy for her to even lift.

Still she did, just in time to catch Aang reaching out to her with a hand. "Come sit by the fire." He said, smiling softly at her. It wasn't a request like Katara, Sokka and Toph's had been earlier that day.

Closing her eyes briefly, she reached out to take his hand, pulling herself up. A wave of dizziness washed over her, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything the entire day, and very little the day before. While she tried the gather her bearings, Aang led her towards the fire around which the rest of their little group sat.

They were all watching silently as she finally settled, taking her place in the small circle. Aang moved a little to the side, though he sat down next to her.

"Orora." He began. "We're all worried about you."

She stayed quiet.

"You haven't been eating, you're barely sleeping and you haven't bended for days now. Even when the meteor fell, you stayed with Appa instead of helping." He paused. "The Orora I know would never stand by and do nothing."

Katara shifted forward a little from where she sat on Orora's other side. "When we were at that polluted river, you didn't even put up a fight to help those people. You would never turn your back on anyone, so why didn't you do anything then?" Orora simply continued staring into the fire. As had become the norm for her, her legs were pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

Standing up, Sokka moved to the space between his Katara and Orora. "Whatever it is that you're going through Orora, you need to tell us. We only want to help." He encouraged, as Toph stood as well, moving to stand beside Aang.

"He's right, its been effected your heart as well. I've noticed it sometimes skips a beat and that could be dangerous." The firelight flickered against her unseeing eyes, as Aang reached out to gently take Orora's hand.

"Orora, I think its time you tell them."

A little startled, the girl looked up. For the first time in days there was a flicker of emotions that played along her features as she stared at Aang. He smiled sadly. "You stepped up when all of us were broken beyond repair." The young Avatar said, his voice suddenly carrying the wisdom of all his past lives. "You took care of all of us. Kept us from breaking apart completely."

He squeezed her hand. "You are a part of our family Orora, and family helps each other. They stand by each other, so no matter what you will say or whatever your choice might be, we will stand by you."

Ice blue eyes blinked, shifting from Aang to Toph, who wore the same smile as Aang. Her head moved to look at the siblings from her sister tribe. Each of them wore encouraging looks, and yet there was that worry glinting in their eyes.

She didn't like seeing it there. They shouldn't be worried about her.

A long pause followed. One where her heart warred with her mind. The former begged her to reveal everything, to unburden what she had carried for so long. The latter clouded her thoughts with nothing but darkness.

That was it.

Nothing but darkness.

"There's a strange darkness in my mind." She began, taking her hand back from Aang and staring into the fire once more. "Growing up I've seen dark before, but not like this. Never like this." She shook her head almost desperately, as if trying to get rid of whatever plagued her mind.

"I don't know what it is, but I know the source of it." A hand on her shoulder had her flinching, but she continued. "Its the knowledge that my s-soul-soulm-ate betrayed me."

Her very voice tripped on the word, the syllables heavy on her tongue.

"Your soulmate?" Katara gasped from beside her. Orora nodded. "Aang knows who he is, but I asked him to keep it a secret." She added, lest the other three tell him off for not telling them.

A pause once more, before Sokka spoke. "Who's your soulmate Orora?"

Another beat of silence.

"Prince Zuko."

Deathly silence, even the creatures of the night seemed to have gone into shock.

Katara and Sokka looked to Aang behind Orora's head, to see him nod in confirmation, his lips pressed in a thin line. Where they had been standing, Sokka and Toph sat down, forming something of a circle around Orora.

Reaching out, Katara gently took the older girl's hand and began to stroke the soft skin. "Tell us everything." She encouraged.

And so, within the comfort of her new family, Orora began to recount the whole tale.

She told them everything, and as she did each memory seemed to play out in the fire crackling in front of her. The young waterbender left out no detail, spilling what had been festering within her for so so long.

Every moment shared.

Every word spoken.

Every glare they exchanged.

Every fight they had.

Every realization she made about him.

Every time he showed the humanity in him.

Every time the trust between them grew.

Every time she would set him straight.

Every smile.

Every secret he confided in her.

Every laugh.

Every time he helped her.

Every tear.

Every time he comforted her.

Every fear.

Every time she comforted him.

Every insecurity.

Every hope that was born based on everything that happened.

Every embrace.

Everything.

She spoke until she had nothing left to say.

Until her throat felt raw from talking for so long after such a lengthy bout of silence.

"But in the end, none of it mattered." She whispered. "Because he betrayed me. He betrayed his Uncle. But that wasn't what hurt me the most." She let out a airy laugh of disbelief.

"What hurt me the most was that he betrayed himself." All four listeners looked at each other in surprise. "He went back to the people who hurt him, because he wanted his old life back, and in doing so, he betrayed himself."

Another laugh, this one broken in place as she pressed the heal of her palm against her forehead. "And that hurt more then anything. More then the fact that he betrayed me. That I couldn't do anything. That I wasn't enough for him." Another laugh that echoed across the water. "Me. His soulmate. I wasn't enough for him. How foolish and naive does one have to be to believe in that?"

Finally she looked up from the fire, her eyes burning with several emotions that none of them could identify.

"You weren't naive or foolish Orora." Aang finally spoke. "You did what any other soulmate would do when they meet their other half." His grey eyes flickered towards his own soulmate for a brief second. "You hoped, and that is neither naive nor foolish."

Letting out a growl of frustration, the girl stood up, moving to walk around the fire so she could stand in front of the edge of the Spring. "And what good did that bring me?" She asked, no demanded to know as she rounded back on all of them.

"Only heartbreak and a lesson that having a soulmate is nothing but torture." Whatever emotions she was feeling in that moment seemed to overflow from her very being. The water behind her trembled.

"I mean, Toph will never be able to know who her soulmate is because she can't see her string." The girl in question looked on sadly at her older heartbroken sister.

"Your soulmate turned into the moon Sokka, you can never be with her only watch from far away and wander what might have been." Sokka's eyes flickered to the moon as it shone just behind his raging sister.

She fell silent as her blue gaze flickered between Katara and Aang. Despite the plethora of emotions she was feeling, she would never betray the trust they had in her.

"Its just.......its just........." She raised her clenched hands to the side of her head for a brief moment. "Despite everything he did, I miss him. I miss him so much that I can barely breath." On of her hands dropped to her chest where her heart raged within. "I'm just numb. I thought I was building a new life, a better life. With him. How could I be such a fool?" The surface of the water behind her began to move, creating small ripples that lapped against the bank where she stood. With every word she spoke her vice began to grow in volume.

"And yet I grieve for the life I knew with him." The waves grew a little more. "I would've followed him anywhere, but he's gone to a place I can never........"

That strange feeling in her throat intensified and her eyes pricked, growing hotter by the second. But she continued.

"This grief that I feel." Her voice began to reach a crescendo. "It's pulling me down." Every eye was trained behind her where the water trembled. "And I don't know how to fight against it anymore!" She screamed.

Her arms came swinging to her sides in a wide arc.

And the water behind her rose in a giant tidal wave. Only to transform into huge spikes of ice and freeze in place.

Orora was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling. There was an almost desperate look in her eyes as she looked from one pair of eyes to the other. The feeling in her throat intensified, and an ache began to form in her chest. Overwhelmed, the girl fell to her knees.

"Your heart just skipped a beat again." Toph called, as all of them quickly moved to surround her. Orora clutched at her throat, her breathing coming out in ragged pants as she turned her panic filled eyes to Sokka.

Suddenly he understood.

Reaching out he grasped her by the shoulders.

"Orora, you have to let go." He urged her. "After Yue, I tried to hold it all in too. And I did for a while, but its not a good thing. Holding back is never a good thing."

She stared at him.

"Just......" He reached up to brush something from the corner of her eye. Something wet. A tear?

"Let go."

A sniffle echoed against the icy wall she had just created. Her entire body trembled. Her eyes grew hotter as she squeezed them shut.

That strange feeling in her throat rose up and escaped from between her lips in the form of a cry that echoed with the utter heartbreak she had been experiencing for the past three weeks.

And for the first time in her life, Orora cried.

She cried with her heart, her body, her mind, her voice, her eyes, her very soul.

She cried and cried, loud sobs wrenching from her fragile body. Katara was the first one to gather her in her arms and hold her, just like Orora had held her all those weeks ago when Aang had been in a coma. Tears pricked her own eyes as she listened to the girl sob over the loss and betrayal that she had kept to herself for so long.

Sokka, Aang and Toph joined the embrace at the same time. Their arms wrapped around Orora, the older sister they had so sorely needed. That they had lacked in their family. They would stand by her, just as she had stood by them. And after so long of barely any reaction from her, seeing her finally release all those emotions was a comfort.

Behind them the icy wall slowly dissipated, the water melting away into the Spring. With every passing second, the trembling in her body subsided, and her sobs began to quieten, her breath slowly evening out.

Until finally, after a night that seemed to have lasted an eternity, it all ended.

And Orora, in the comfort of her family's embrace, fell asleep.

And this time, she did not dream.

                                           ————————–

Amber eyes widened at the sight.

There she was, standing in the moonlight once more. But this time, she wasn't looking at him in that disappointed manner, nor was she berating him or even speaking to him.

No, she simply stood there, looking at him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

During the whole time he had known her, Zuko had never seen her cry.

Be sad yes, but never cry.

Yet there she was. Crying and looking so utterly heartbroken that it broke his heart all over again.

"Orora?" He called out, stepping forward, hand raised as if to reach out and touch her.

"Why're you.....?" The words died in his throat as she continued to sob silently. Not a single sound escaped her.

Slowly, she raised her hand, her finger pointing towards him.

Zuko stared at her wide eyed as the realization settled in his chest, so heavy that it actually physically hurt him.

Him.

She was crying because of him.

Shame colored his tone, and tears pricked his own eyes as he stepped forward. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Orora, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry." He called out to her.

He wanted to reach out to her, touch her, comfort her like she had done him so many many times.

But he couldn't.

She was nothing but a mirage his mind had conjured.

Nothing but an illusion.

And while Zuko was being tortured by how own mind, a certain knife-wielding girl stood in the shadows, watching the Prince with narrowed eyes.

Watching as he spoke to someone who was not there.

                                           ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy @punksnotdeadbutiam @ablofftoneverland-blog-blog @slut-for-menn @vyliie @army-moa75 @juwhls @aqlodun

[ayyy-pee]

Strangers in Love

Chapter 8 - Malaysia

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Summary: You did it. You and Kento have rekindled your romance, gotten to know each other again. Things couldn't be better. It's been a few years now, you and Kento saving up just for this moment. Now it's time to really enjoy each other.

Genre: Divorced to Lovers AU

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Divorce, Unprotected Sex, Cunnilingus (vaginal), Implied sex, Creampie, Arguments, Ex-Husband Nanami Kento

Art by: K

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight 380 with service from Tokyo, Japan to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. We are currently second in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately seven minutes time. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage beneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for choosing Malaysia Airlines. Enjoy your flight.”

You stretch your legs out, sighing at the spaciousness as you relax into your seat. The large cabin you share leaves you more room than you know what to do with. You’ve never been on a flight this nice before. It was usually a coach seat for you, struggling to shove your carry-on into the overhead compartment and trying your best not to smother the stranger in the middle seat with your ass.

This time was different. 

This time, you splurged on first-class and all of the amenities that came with it: free drinks, nice meals, seats that had so much room they could convert into private beds, the works. You splurged on luxury because you deserved it.

“Comfortable?” A familiar, deep voice asks next to you.

You glance over to the blonde man beside you and grin. This long awaited trip was finally happening and you couldn’t contain your happiness. Leaning over, he meets you halfway as you press your lips to his. He hums into the kiss, his large hand coming up to rest on the back of your neck and pull you closer. All you can think about is how you can’t wait for this adventure you’d be on after this long plane ride to Malaysia with your lover, Kento.

“So comfortable. I’m so glad we waited a little longer to save up a bit more for these seats,” you say, kissing him once more before pulling away. You lean back into your chair. “This is going to be the best flight I’ve ever had.”

“Agreed,” the man brings his hand down to hold yours in your lap. “And the best trip. I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”

“Me too, Ken,” You giggle to yourself. “It only took what? Like ten years and a divorce?”

Nanami chuckles beside you, nodding and giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “Well worth the wait, love.”

You and Nanami have been dating for about four years now and everything has been great. Of course you have your ups and your downs, arguing every now and then, but it’s a complete 180 from your marriage. You’ve moved in together again, the apartment feeling like a blend of both you and Kento. You have Friday dinner where you cook together (well, mostly Kento), you sit down for the week and you make sure to talk, really talk about your days, anything new and your feelings. 

Work no longer interrupted your routines. Nanami was sure to take a few days off a month to spend time with you and to simply relax. On those days, you took short trips outside of Tokyo to smaller towns to explore. You tried new foods, drinks, took part in activities you would have never experienced when you and Nanami were together the first time.

Things feel familiar and new all at the same time. Kento is so differentt…in a good way. You’re happy.

The flight attendant makes his way down the aisle, checking passengers and their belongings. He nods curtly to you and Nanami as he moves along. 

“What do you want to do once we’ve arrived?” Nanami questions, checking his seatbelt and adjusting his neck pillow, then doing the same for you. You roll your eyes playfully, shooing his hand away. Since you’d resumed dating, Nanami was more protective of you than he’d ever been before. He walked you to the train station daily, met you outside of your office after work, checked in with you when either of you were out to be sure you were safe. It was cute. A much appreciated change from him.

“Well, we need to stay up and fight the jetlag so we can…” you hum quietly, mentally kicking yourself for not letting Nanami build an itinerary like he’d wanted.

“Should’ve let me build an itinerary,” he mumbles next to you. He reaches into his pants to pull his phone out of the pocket, leaning over to show you his screen. 

“You built an itinerary, didn’t you?”

“Not an itinerary,” he corrects. “Just a few places I thought you may enjoy the few days we’re in Kuala Lumpur before we head to Kuantan.”

Nanami’s phone vibrates in his hands, a notification from an unsaved number rolling down on his screen. He sits back, pulling his phone away, fingers quickly moving across his screen before he switches his phone off and places it back into his pocket. He clears his throat quietly and you don’t miss how the tips of his ears are suddenly a bright red. 

Strange, but you don’t think too much of it.

“What was that?” You ask, trying not to sound suspicious.

“Hmm?” Nanami plays dumb. “Oh, nothing important.”

You can see the way Nanami’s jaw ticks as he turns his head to look out the window. He’s thinking hard, likely debating on if he wants to tell you what the text says. You don’t want to pry though. Nanami is a shy man, no matter how confident he came across to others. When he was ready to confide in you, he would.

“Alright,” you tell him. “Let’s go over the list, then. See what we’re going to do when we get there since it’ll be pretty late.”

The plane bell rings throughout the cabin. You and Nanami look on as the flight attendants line the row and go over the safety instructions. Once they’ve finished, they take their seats. Shortly after, you feel the plane begin to speed up, faster and faster until you feel the wheels lift off of the ground.

Nanami has his fingers laced through yours, squeezing subtly as he watches the plane cruise higher and higher into the air. 

Another cabin ding.

“Good afternoon passengers. This is your captain speaking. I'd like to welcome everyone on Flight 380. We are currently cruising at an altitude of 33,000 feet at an airspeed of 400 miles per hour. The time is 12:25 pm. Weather looks good and with the tailwind on our side we are expecting to land in Kuala Lumpur approximately fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. The weather in Kuala Lumpur is clear and sunny, with a high of 30 degrees celsius or about 86 degrees fahrenheit for this afternoon. If the weather cooperates we should get a great view of the city as we descend. Cabin crew will be coming around in about twenty minutes to offer you a light snack and beverage. Until then, sit back, relax and enjoy the rest of the flight.”

Nanami lowers the window shade, leaning his head back against his seat.

“Actually, will you mind if I sleep for a bit?” He asks, voice already dripping with exhaustion. You giggle quietly next to him. Nanami - ever the planner - had hardly slept the night before in anticipation of this trip. He packed and unpacked his bag, your bag. He’d probably redone his secret itinerary over and over to make sure it was perfect. You’d taken trips together in your “new” time together. He’d taken you to Sendai to meet his old colleagues and friends from his time living there after your divorce. You’d traveled to Kyoto together for his company’s Christmas party. Even then, you’d never seen Nanami so all over the place before traveling. 

“Of course, Ken. Get some rest. We can talk plans later.”

It takes only a few minutes before you hear Nanami’s light snores next to you. You can’t stop the small smile spreading across your face as you close your own eyes. You were finally on your way to Malaysia together. You hoped this trip was everything you both wished for it to be.

It doesn’t take long for you to let sleep take you as well, jetlag be damned, your fingers still intertwined with Nanami.

----------

When you land at the airport, Nanami collects both your bags before you head to pick up your rental car. You’re sitting in the front seat as he drives, carefully glancing at his phone where the navigation directs him.

“I’m so hungry,” you whine dramatically next to him. He chuckles.

“I tried to wake you up when the stewardess came by. You wouldn’t budge.” He exits the highway.

“You could’ve waved a carrot under my nose and I would’ve woken up. I’m starving.”

Nanami laughs loudly at this, a laugh from deep within his chest. And your cheeks heat up even after all this time. Because hearing Nanami laugh like that is so rare…and reserved only for you. The sound makes you relax, a smile plastered to your face as you sit back in your seat and enjoy the rest of the ride.

When you arrive at the hotel, it’s early in the night. The moon is high in the sky as you enter the lobby and Nanami takes the lead, checking you both in and carrying your bags to your room. The room is nice, a large and luxurious suite. Nanami really splurged when he made the reservation.

There’s a dining table with a beautiful, large bouquet of tropical flowers in the center, a gorgeous mix of red and yellow petals and long green leaves. You’d never seen anything like it.

“Wow, this is the nicest place I’ve ever stayed in,” you say in awe while Nanami moves past you to the suite’s bedroom. He sets your things down and stretches before taking a seat on the bed. He’s on his phone while you wander into the bedroom after him, looking through the suite. There’s a small bar cart next to the large balcony doors with an empty glass and bottle of smoked whiskey sitting atop, no doubt for Nanami. He does love a glass before winding down for the night.

You peer out into the night, the city of Kuala Lumpur still active. The skyline is lit with a beautiful array of white, golds and blues. The Menara Kuala Lumpur is lit a gorgeous shade of purple. And it hits you that you’ve finally made it to Malaysia with Nanami Kento of all people. You would have never guessed you’d end up here. There’s a strange feeling beginning to form inside you and it’s making you emotional. You can feel the sting of tears in your eyes before Nanami’s voice pulls you back to him.

“It’s a little late, but would you like to get some food? There’s a night street market nearby with plenty of options to choose from.”

You subtly wipe your eyes, turning to face your boyfriend. “Yes! Let’s go.”

----------

The market is not insanely busy, which is nice. After hours of sitting on the plane, you were eager to stretch your legs. Less people meant less standing around struggling to maneuver through a crowd.

Nanami squeezes your hand next to you as you walk together, grabbing your attention.

“Anything specific you’re craving?” He asks, eyes scanning the different stands and their options.

You hum, looking around. “I’m open to trying new things. I mean, when’s the next time we’ll be in Malaysia?”

“That is true,” Nanami agrees as he comes to a stop in front of a stand. There are so many options here, you think you may be able to try all Malaysian cuisine in just this one spot. The worker is friendly, smiling patiently as you both weigh your options.

“I think I’m going to try the char kuey teow,” Nanami decides, pointing up at the menu. The worker repeats the order, nodding as he writes it down. He then looks at you, waiting.

“I think I’ll do the…” you shift your weight on your feet, taking another second to choose. “Okay, I think I’m going to do the satay and the rojak.”

Nanami tells the worker your order, the worker nodding and taking his payment. He waves you over to a set of tables next to the booth to sit and wait. You sit next to each other, Nanami’s hand never leaving yours.

“Do you know what you ordered?” Nanami asks, to which you laugh.

“No, but I did say I’m open to trying new things.” Nanami nods, smiling softly. You catch the glint of humor in his eyes and you have to ask: “Why? Do you know what you ordered?”

“Definitely not,” he snorts, chuckling. You lean your head against his shoulder, laughing harder than before.

One thing you enjoyed about your second time around dating Nanami was his openness and his ability to allow himself to let go. Even before the divorce, he had a hard time simply letting himself enjoy the little things. You were glad to see this had changed.

The stand worker brings your plates over and sets everything down. You both thank him graciously as you look your dishes over.

Your first plate - the satay - consists of chicken skewers. It’s beautifully seasoned and grilled to perfection, the steam carrying the delicious smell to your nose in soft waves. Your second plate looks to be an arrangement of fruits and vegetables, a salad of sorts. You fork through the dish, seeing pineapples, mangoes, apples and even star fruits. The dish is topped with a sticky, sweet and spicy sauce, sugar, chillies and peanuts. It smells amazing.

Nanami’s plate consists of flat rice noodles stir-fried with shrimp, chinese sausage, eggs and bean sprouts in a mix of soy sauce. His plate also smells incredible and you reach over and grab a fork full and take a bite. It’s delicious, so flavorful you think you might cry.

Nanami rolls his eyes. “Now what’s the point of you ordering your own food if you’re just going to eat mine?”

“Hey! I said I was open to trying new things!” You pout, sliding your plates over to him as well. “I was going to share with you, too.”

“I’m teasing, love. I don’t mind.” He leans over and presses a kiss to your lips. “I want you to try everything. And I want to try everything with you.”

You smile as Nanami kisses you again before he tries a bite of his meal. He practically moans when the flavors burst in his mouth.

“It’s good, right?” You ask, taking a fork full of your salad and holding it up to his mouth. Nanami nods.

“These flavors are incredible. I don’t know what it is…maybe the shallots? They make all the flavors pop. Not to mention that bit of heat from the red chilies. I’ll absolutely be making this for dinner when we get back home.”

You giggle as he takes a bite of your salad. “You’re such a food nerd. I swear you should’ve been a chef after we graduated.”

Nanami shakes his head, again relishing in the flavors of your salad. “I only enjoy cooking for you.”

He resumes eating his food, but you’re staring at him, eyes wide as a result of his honesty. You had never realized it before, but Nanami truly never cooked for anyone but you. When having friends over, you typically ordered takeout. He really reserved the love he poured into making food for you only. The thought makes your heart pound hard against your ribcage.

“Love, you okay?” Nanami asks, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek so he can turn your head to look at him. Those brown eyes are filled with concern for you. And so much love. He loves you so much, it practically radiates off of him.

“Yes,” you reply. “I’m just thinking about how happy I am to be here with you.”

And Nanami gives you that shy smile you’re so familiar with, something else he saves just for you, before he kisses you softly.

“I love you, baby,” he whispers. Even with the hustle and bustle of the street market, you hear it loud and clear.

“I love you.”

----------

The sun beams through the balcony doors of the hotel room. The room feels much too warm. It makes Nanami peel back the blankets for a hint of relief. It’s only then he realizes it’s not the blankets making him too warm, or the room temperature. He peers down, finding you latched onto his side. You’re sleeping peacefully and Nanami can’t help but drink in your beauty, how lucky he is to witness how stunning you are. Nanami always thinks you’re a sight to behold, but you’re ethereal beneath the glow of the Malaysian sun. 

He brings a hand up, gently caressing your cheek. He knows he should begin his day; maybe go for a run in the hotel’s gym, have his coffee and wake you, but part of him wants to just lie with you a little longer. He opts to stay in bed.

On the bedside table, Nanami’s phone buzzes with a text message. He carefully reaches for it, reading the message over and sighing.

Unknown: what are u doing now?

Nanami: Getting ready for the day.

Nanami: I told you not to text me while I’m here. She’ll get suspicious.

Unknown: K so u haven’t told her yet

Nanami rolls his eyes, sends one last message.

Nanami: Don’t text me again.

He puts his phone back on the bedside table after setting it to Do Not Disturb. You begin to stir against him.

“Who’s texting you so early in the morning?” You grumble against his side.

“No one important,” he tells you. He places a kiss to the top of your head. “We should start getting ready, love. We have a lot to do today.”

You groan, whining about how tired you still are as you turn away from him to hide your face in your pillow. Nanami chuckles lightly.

“Okay. You get a little more rest. I’ll get ready and come back for you in a bit?”

You mumble in agreement, your light snores coming shortly after your answer.

Nanami climbs out of the bed, heading to the closet in the suite. He fishes around for his workout clothes and shoes before quickly changing. He’ll let you get more sleep. You’re probably jetlagged anyway. He has a fun day planned for you and he wants you to be well rested.

Before heading out to run, Nanami makes a call downstairs to room service. He orders breakfast to be delivered for you both in the next hour, which gives him time to complete his workout and make it back to shower. 

----------

When Nanami returns, you’re already up. He stands in the living room area just in time to catch you getting out of the shower and entering the bedroom.

“Hey,” you greet him, coming into the main room. You’ve got that gorgeous smile he loves so much spread wide across your face.

“Hey,” he says back, and he fears the tips of his ears are glowing red. You look so good right now, all fresh faced and wrapped in a towel. Again, you’re always stunning but wow. Is it Malaysia that’s making you look like an absolute vision? Nanami can’t pull his gaze from you.

“Kento? You okay?” You ask, adjusting the towel wrapped around you as you step forward. “You’re staring.”

His eyes zero in on your smooth skin, the water droplets cascading down your shoulders and between the valley of your breasts. The way your beautiful lips part as you await his response. How that towel you have wrapped around yourself is barely hanging on and it would take little effort from Nanami to remove it, letting him see every bit of you in all your glory. He can’t bear to be away from you a second longer.

Nanami is aware that he should shower. That he should wash away all the sweat and grime from his workout, but he can’t take his eyes off of you or the way that thin towel hugs all of your dips and curves. The way the scent of your body wash assaults his senses. And before he knows it, he’s crossing the distance of the suite until he’s got your face between his hands and his mouth is crashing into yours.

The kiss is dizzying, all tongue and teeth. A mix of mint, your lipgloss and his sweat. The taste makes Nanami moan into your open mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, not caring about pressing your body to his sweaty form.

Nanami’s hand glides down your cheek, down your neck and your chest until his fingers find the top of your towel. He hooks a finger under and pulls, the towel loosening and falling quickly to the floor. And then one of his hands is cupping your breast, pulling moan after moan from you as his callous hand runs over your hardening nipple.

With a quiet whimper, you break the kiss to lean back and look at Nanami, eyes blown with lust. “Kento,” you pant. “Not that I don’t love this aggressive side of you, but are you okay?”

Nanami leans down, pressing kisses to your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more access. “I’m amazing, love. I just can’t believe we’re here.” He licks along your collarbone, his large hands running down your back until they find your ass. He squeezes, pulling your hips against him and you moan when you feel the evidence of his arousal.

His lips are back on yours soon as he moves you both backwards until your back is pressed against the dining table in the center of the room. He cups your ass and lifts you onto the surface and he’s thankful that he moved the flowers last night and that room service hasn’t been delivered yet.

He pulls away from you, peering down at you through half-lidded eyes. Your lips are kiss swollen and Nanami brings a hand up so he can run his thumb across them.

“I love you. You know that?” He tells you softly.

You nod. “I know, Ken.”

He runs a hand down the valley of your breasts, pushing softly for you to lay back across the table telling you: “You’re so beautiful.” And then he’s kneeling down, placing his hands on your knees and spreading your legs before him. This is one of his favorite sights. You spread out in front of him.

When you first began dating again, it really felt like the first time. You were shy, almost embarrassed when exposed to Nanami and he was patient with you because he couldn’t blame you. You had stopped being intimate long before your divorce, so it really felt as if you had to get to know each other’s bodies again. It took a few instances of intimacy for you to open up to him again. But once you did, you often found you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

Nanami takes in the sight of you in front of him, legs spread wide. His gaze takes in the puffy lips of your pussy coated with your arousal. He licks his lips groaning because he can still taste you on his tongue. But he wants more of you.

“Open your legs for me, love,” he commands, voice husky. He can feel his cock straining against his shorts. He’ll take care of that later, though. Right now, he only wants to take care of you.

You do as you're told, spreading your legs to further expose your aching cunt to Nanami and he can’t wait to run his tongue through your folds.

“So pretty,” he whispers, hands coming up to caress the inside of your thighs. Nanami plants sweet kisses along the plush of your thighs before he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your pussy lips. You gasp quietly, back arching off of the dining table and Nanami takes that moment to slip his tongue between your folds.

The groan he lets out comes from deep within his chest. It vibrates through your core and the sensation makes you reach down, weaving your fingers through Nanami’s golden tresses to grab hold.

“O-oh, fuck. Kento,” you breathe. Nanami presses his tongue to your clit, grinning when he feels the slick pour from your core and into his mouth. 

“You taste so good, my love.” He groans against you. You moan in reply, hips coming up to grind your cunt against his mouth, pleading for more. And Nanami gives it to you, lips sealing around your clit and sucking, licking, nipping at your swollen bud until you’re practically fucking yourself on his tongue.

“Kento, oh my god, Kento,” you keen, back lifting off the table again.

“Let me hear you, love,” his hands squeeze your thighs. “I want to know I make you feel good.”

You moan loudly, fingers gripping Nanami’s hair and pulling him further into your pussy. “You do, baby. You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Ken, so fucking good.”

Nanami brings his hands up to your cunt, presses his thumbs to your lips and spreads your pussy open for him. He leans back, just enough that he can get a good look for himself. The sight damn near brings him to climax, your pussy throbbing before him, your little hole clenching around nothing.

He wants to fuck you. He wants to fuck you so bad, but he’ll wait until later for that.

Instead, he leans forward again and slides his hot tongue straight into your aching hole. He has to stop his eyes from rolling back when you cry out and he feels your soft walls clamp down on his tongue immediately. You’re whining, pushing your hips up to meet his mouth, grinding your soaking cunt against Nanami’s face.

And he loves it.

Nanami loves the taste of you, it’s intoxicating. 

Nanami loves the feel of you, soft and pliant beneath his strong hands.

Nanami loves the sounds you make, quite literally music to his ears.

Nanami loves you.

And he hopes you can feel how much he loves you by how he curls his tongue inside your walls. By how he brings a hand up and presses his thumb against your swollen clit where he rubs tight circles. By how he groans into your pussy when he feels a gush of your slick rush into his mouth. By how he’s so painfully hard, he’s now rubbing himself through the front of his shorts to find some sort of friction. 

You really must feel it, because you tug on his hair until he pulls his mouth away from your center. 

“Come here, Ken,” you whisper. “Fuck me.”

Nanami’s brows knit together, a small frown gracing his features. “I’m sweaty, love. I just worked out.”

You shake your head. “I don’t care about that. I need to feel you. Please.”

So Nanami stands, hand still stroking himself over the fabric of his shorts as he eyes you, all spread open on the table. So enticing, so sexy. You know he can’t resist you. All you have to do is say the word and he’s at your beck and call. 

Nanami reaches into his shorts and pulls his cock out before he moves to stand between your legs. A string of precum drips from the tip onto your cunt and Nanami inhales sharply at the sight. You’re driving him insane. He didn’t plan on fucking you right after the gym. If anything, he would’ve finished himself off in the shower. Now he hovers over you, so damn aroused, he’s certain he won’t last long. He slides the tip of his length up and down your folds, collecting your slick and then he leans over you as he positions himself against your entrance.

He gazes into your eyes, absolutely drinks in the fucked out look on your face.

“I’m so in love with you,” he says softly, honestly. Then he kisses you so sweetly, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as Nanami pushes into you. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and shivering as he enters you, parting your walls for him.

He doesn’t stop moving forward until he feels his balls meet your ass. His tongue presses against yours, both of you whimpering and groaning into each other’s mouths as Nanami finally sits fully inside you.

“Shit,” Nanami curses under his breath. “You feel so good. Every time. I’ll never get tired of having you like this.” He pulls his hips back slowly before he rocks back into you. And maybe it’s the buildup for you, but that first thrust has your pussy gushing against him, soaking straight through his shorts.

“Fuck,” Nanami grits his teeth, the sudden extra slickness making his hips stutter slightly.

“Ah- fuck, Ken,” you whine, holding Nanami close to you as he rolls his hips into yours, filling you over and over. 

The room is filled with Nanami’s soft grunts, your sighs and moans, the sounds of your skin slapping together as Nanami fucks into you, the occasional screech of the table legs sliding across the floor echoing through the room. 

It’s intimate, your arms wrapped around Nanami, one of his hands holding your waist and the other cupping your cheek. Nanami’s eyes are closed, mouth slack against your own as he pumps into you. You’re so wet, so tight, so soft and as much as he wants to keep fucking you like this, he can feel his balls get a little tighter with each thrust.

He reaches a hand between you both, finding your clit easily and rubbing circles on it. A small smirk spreads across his face when you arch your back with a loud moan, your breasts pressing against his chest. Nanami sits up slightly, head dipping so he can place sweet kisses along your chest and down your breasts. 

Your hips come up to meet Nanami’s, the loud smack of your skin meeting pulling a deep groan from within him. He dips his head back down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, gently grazing his tongue over it while he uses his free hand to grab your other breast, his thumb flicking your neglected nipple.

You’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips against Nanami’s, panting and Nanami can feel the telltale flutter of your walls. You’re –

“‘m about to cum, Kento,” you cry out. Nanami releases your nipples, crashes his mouth into yours as he keeps his steady pace, thumb rubbing your clit until he feels your pussy tighten around him. It sends him over the edge with you.

“Yes, love. Cum for me,” he groans, his hips stuttering with his own release. And he’s so sensitive, but he fucks you through your orgasm anyway, thrusting his cum deeper and deeper into you until he can’t anymore.

You���re catching your breath as Nanami stands to look you over. You’re glowing with a sheen of sweat covering you. You’ll both need to shower after this. Nanami grips the base of his cock, pulls out of you with a quiet hiss. And just in time because the moment he’s pulled out there’s a knock on the hotel door.

“Room service!”

You scramble off of the table, scurrying around the room to find your towel on the floor, throwing it around your naked form. “Just a minute!”

Nanami chuckles, making his way to the suite door. He cracks it open, coming face to face with the attendant. “You can leave it outside the door and we’ll grab it in a moment.”

The attendant nods, setting the tray down on a small folding stand in front of the door. “Thank you,” Nanami says before he closes the door again. He turns to find you peeking out of the bedroom and it makes him laugh that deep laugh he only lets you hear.

Nanami crosses the threshold to you, takes your face in his hands and presses a tender kiss to your lips. He gazes into those beautiful eyes of yours. He could drown in them when you look at him like you love him more than anything on earth. And he hopes you do because he loves you that much, if not more.

He kisses you again, pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips, “meet me in the shower.”

----------

You never imagined Malaysia to be so beautiful. You’re grateful to Nanami for being such a planner because you don’t think you’d have been able to find these incredible places. You’re only here a few days, and Nanami makes sure you make the most of it.

On Day 1:

After finishing breakfast (and your other extracurriculars in the shower, on the bed, against the wall and back on the table), you finally leave the hotel and venture out. It’s a beautifully sunny day. Perfect for your first real outing in Malaysia. 

Nanami takes you to the Wilayah Mosque. And while you usually wouldn’t be interested in something like this, Nanami keeps your attention, doling out interesting facts that keep you engaged.

The mosque guides take you along and stop by the most stunning spots so you can photograph the geometric patterns. The pictures truly don’t do it justice. It’s breathtaking.

“What did you think?” Nanami asks as he buckles his seatbelt. He puts the car in reverse, his hand coming up behind your headrest as he cranes his neck to look behind him. He’s so hot without even trying.

“It was gorgeous. Not something I would’ve picked myself, but I’m glad you did. I liked it.”

Nanami smiles as he turns back around to begin driving. “I’m glad.”

Later that evening, Nanami takes you to Bukit Bintang Shopping District. It reminds you a bit of Shibuya. It’s very busy. You’re a bit surprised that Nanami wants to go somewhere so similar to home. Nanami spoils you here. He offers to buy you whatever you look at for more than a few seconds, stating “get it, love. When is the next time we’ll be in Malaysia?”  

So you give in. You let him treat you to whatever you desire (within reason of course). 

On Day 2:

Nanami takes you to the hotel’s rooftop pool to enjoy breakfast before you head out for the day.

“What’s on the agenda today?” You ask, sipping your drink. The sun is just rising, painting the sky with hues of pinks, yellows, and oranges. The view is stunning, the city still buzzing even after a long night. Though it’s only been a day, you love it here.

Nanami seems to love it, too. He’s so much more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. After all of the years you’ve known each other, you’d never seen this side. He’s been so sweet and considerate, taking into account what you’d enjoy and going above and beyond to make sure it happens. He’s been so doting and loving, almost always touching you as though you’re his lifeline. Even now, he’s got his ankles locked with yours under the table and his fingers intertwined with yours on top of it.

It’s something small you didn’t know you’d wanted when you were together before. Now you love this almost…clingy version of Nanami. It made your heart flutter.

Nanami hums, gulping down the last bit of his coffee, his thumb lazily running back and forth across your knuckles.

“I booked a massage for you this morning before we head out.”

“A massage? Just for me?”

He nods, squeezing your hand. “You deserve some time to yourself, too. A nice, relaxing hour just for you seemed like a good idea.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been sitting on a plane for several hours just a couple days ago. You’d also been spending a lot of time walking around. Not to mention adjusting to the time change was exhausting and only added to your body feeling a little stiff lately.

“Okay!” You agree happily. “What will you do while I’m gone? I’m sure you’ll be bored out of your mind, missing me and crying with snot and boogers running down your nose, huh?”

“Mm,” Nanami smirks. “You caught me. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to hold back my tears.” He wipes his eyes, sniffling quietly and you laugh because he’s just so cute. Your serious man bantering with you. Ugh, you love him way too much.

“What time is the massage, babe?”

“You’ve got a couple hours. We can just relax in the room until then if you’d like.”

You nod. “Sounds perfect. You can give me a massage before my massage.”

Nanami’s thumb caresses your knuckles. “On the table again? Or maybe the couch this time.” He suggests, his voice dripping with seduction. You feel your cheeks warm.

“Kento!”

----------

You feel beyond refreshed after your massage. There’s an extra bounce in your step as you make your way back to your room. You’re not sure if it’s from the massage from the hotel masseuse or the massage Nanami gave you before you left for your appointment. Maybe both. You’re excited to see Nanami, tell him about how he needed to sign up for a massage next. It was life changing.

But when you enter the room, Nanami is nowhere in sight. It’s quiet. You think for a moment that he’s left, but he would have told you so. He was so much better about communicating than ever. So you wander the room, starting first in the living room area of the suite. You glance through to the balcony. He’s not there. You wander into the bedroom and find it empty as well. He’s not on the bedroom balcony either.

You’re about to text him to ask where he’s wandered off to when you hear his hushed voice in the bathroom connected to the bedroom. You think maybe he’s talking to himself, or maybe taking a work call, but it’s what you do catch that makes you creep a little closer to the door.

“I already told you I will. She’s having a good time. I don’t want to potentially ruin this trip for her.”

You can’t make out what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but it makes Nanami chuckle quietly. Your stomach tightens.

“We’re heading to Kuantan for the day tomorrow. I’ll let you know if I’ll be returning as a single man and if I am, I’ll be blaming you…Okay…Yes…I know...You’ll hear from me once it’s done…Bye.”

Your stomach is in knots, and you feel yourself begin trembling when you hear Nanami shifting around in the bathroom. His footsteps are getting closer and you know you need to pull it the fuck together. You don’t want to jump to conclusions about who was on the phone. Another woman? Nanami never seemed like the type to cheat. But then again, he never seemed like the type to be a neglectful husband, but he was at one point. Had he also gotten into the habit of being unfaithful?

You hoped not.

The doorknob turns and Nanami stands before you. His face lights up when he sees you.

“Hi, my love. How was your massage?” He asks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Good,” is all you can muster. “Who was that on the phone?”

You don’t miss the way Nanami stiffens briefly. “Oh, just a work call.”

And you know him. You know Nanami Kento better than he knows himself, you think. Because you can tell he just lied to your face. You don’t know who he was actually talking to or why he felt the need to lie about it. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt because deep down, you do trust him. He’s never given you a reason to doubt his faithfulness to you. If he was withholding the truth, there had to be a good reason for it. So you let it go…for now.

“You okay?” Nanami asks when you don’t respond.

You smile, nodding. “Yes, I’m okay. The massage was great.”

You fill Nanami in on how your appointment was, even recommending he get a massage as well.

“Maybe tomorrow morning before we head out to Kuantan for the day. Get changed. I want to take you to the Batu Caves. It’s absolutely breathtaking.”

You tuck away this strange feeling blooming in your chest and nod, smiling up at the man you hope with all your heart you can trust. “Okay, Ken. Let’s go.”

On Day 3:

You and Nanami have been driving for the last three hours and to say you’re exhausted is an understatement. You’ve been letting Nanami’s little white lie eat away at you and it’s been putting a damper on the trip. You’re trying your best not to let on that something is bothering you, but as you approach your destination, you’re not sure if you can keep your feelings to yourself.

You’d tried not to think too much about it, not to assume the worst of the man you love, but a part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe this trip with Nanami truly would be your last.

“Love, can you check the navigation for me please?” Nanami asks next to you. “I want to make sure we’re still on the right path.”

“Sure.”

You grab his phone from its position clipped to the dashboard and look at the map. It’s then that a text notification rolls down Nanami’s screen.

Unknown: tell her today

Unknown: if you don’t tell her before you come back i will!

Now, usually you wouldn’t pry. That’s a boundary you crossed when you suspected Nanami of cheating on you before you asked for a divorce. The suspicions didn’t seem valid at the time and yet you still looked through Nanami’s things to find something that confirmed he was being unfaithful.

Now, it seemed the evidence was right before you. You tap the notification, eyes widening when you see a text thread leading back to the day you left Tokyo to fly to Kuala Lumpur. It’s a bunch of “have you told her”’s and “i can’t wait for you to tell her” and even a “make sure to film her reaction. she’s gonna lose it and i’m gonna laugh so hard”. 

You feel sick. You feel like you want to cry. You feel like you want to scream.

He’s cheating on you. Nanami is cheating on you.

You check out, completely focusing on staring ahead of you as Nanami continues to drive.

Shortly after seeing those texts, Nanami pulls up and parks at Sungai Pandan Waterfall. He opens your door for you and stretches a hand out for you to take. You’re staring up into his pretty brown eyes, wondering how he could do this to you and still bring you here. It seems Malaysia is destined to be nothing but a reminder of pain for you.

You take Nanami’s hands regardless, your ears immediately flooded with the sounds of rushing water. The falls are enormous, multi-tiered and picturesque. It’s not especially crowded, a few families scattered around the falls, either climbing up the rocks or jumping into the large pool at the bottom. Maybe if things were going differently, you’d be able to appreciate the beauty.

Nanami leads you up a path that would take you up the sides of the waterfall, but your mind is racing a million miles a minute, still thinking back to the way Nanami hid his phone from you on the plane ride here. Nanami telling you it was no one important when he got that early morning text on your first day. Nanami’s hushed conversation in the bathroom and now that long chain of text messages.

It’s all eating away at you and you can no longer stand by and pretend to have a good day when Nanami is betraying you right to your face. You yank your hand back, the tears already threatening to spill.

Nanami looks down at you, clearly confused. “Are you okay, love?”

“Kento.” Your voice is shaky, but serious. You want to let him know you mean business right now and when you ask for an answer, he better damn well give it to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ve known each other a long time, Ken. I would think you’d be honest about your feelings with me.”

Nanami is still looking at you, utterly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid. I know what you’ve been up to. The secret texts, the secret phone calls and the lies.” The tears are spilling now and you’re trying to keep your composure, trying not to make a scene when Nanami reaches for your hand and you pull back again. Nanami’s eyes widen as he begins to put two and two together. 

“I can explain,” he begins hurriedly.

“Explain what? That you came on this trip just to tell me your deep dark secret? That’s what your little friend said.” 

“My little friend?”

“The one you’ve been secretly texting throughout the whole trip! The one you were probably on the phone with while you were hiding in the bathroom yesterday!”

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off with a warning. “I saw all of the texts on the way here, too. So don’t you dare tell me that was a work call or I swear, Kento–”

“Okay. Okay. It’s really not what you think,” he sighs as he fishes his phone from his pocket.

“You could’ve at least saved your mistress' number,” you mutter, unsure if Nanami heard you over the sound of the waterfalls.

Nanami holds his phone up, showing you the text thread you saw in the car earlier. “Are these what you saw?”

When you nod, he hands you his phone, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. You give him a questioning look.

“Go ahead and call it.”

You want to scream at him that you’re really not interested in talking to whoever he’s cheating on you with, but the pleading look in his eyes pushes you to dial the number. You turn to face away from Nanami as it rings. It feels as though the dial tone rings for an eternity before you hear shuffling and then:

“NANAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN! Did you do it? Did you tell her?”

Your eyes widen in shock…and embarrassment. “...Satoru?”

On the other end of the line, Satoru is quiet. After a moment, he says “Heeeeyyyy, babe.”

“Satoru, you’ve been texting Kento this whole time?”

“Yep!”

You’re relieved to know you were in fact crazy for thinking Nanami would ever choose to hurt you by cheating. You should have known better, should have trusted that he wouldn’t do that to you. You feel ashamed. But, you also have questions.

“Why doesn’t Kento have your number saved?” You ask, suddenly curious.

Satoru gasps loudly on the other end. “He doesn’t?! Ugh, that asshole. After all the help I gave him.”

“Help? With what?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

You’re beginning to get annoyed.

“Tell me what?”

Nanami calls your name from behind you.

“Hang up,” He says. You’re so frustrated. You want answers and Satoru seems to be the one willing to give them right now. Regardless, you turn around…only to find Nanami down on one knee gazing up at you.

Your mouth drops open and you tighten your grip on Nanami’s phone so don’t drop it from the sheer shock you’re experiencing.

“Babe, are you the–” you hit the ‘end call’ button on Satoru, still staring down at Nanami before you.

“Ken…what–”

“I would never cheat on you,” Nanami swears. “You know that. I’ve told you this before. And I’m sorry for all of the secrets, for lying to you. But trust me. I have good intentions here.” He reaches forward to take both your hands in his. “I have been so scared to tell you this because I was afraid you’d run. Or that it would completely change everything for us in the worst way. It’s been Satoru pushing me, encouraging me. If it weren’t for him, I would never take this next step and tell you that…”

Nanami is so red, so flustered. You’d only ever seen him like this when you first reconnected. It takes you back to the elevator after your big argument in the restaurant. He’s being open and vulnerable with you. You give him your full attention.

“Tell me what?” You push softly. Because even Nanami – strong as he is – needs a nudge.

He takes a deep breath, letting go of one of your hands to reach into his pocket where he pulls out a small blue velvet box. You watch with wide eyes as he flips the box open, revealing a beautiful ring. It’s different from the last one Nanami gave you, this one with your birthstone sitting in the center. It’s gorgeous.

“Tell you that I have been the luckiest man on this planet to have been given a second chance with you. I am the luckiest man to be able to wake up next to you everyday, to hold you every night. To kiss you whenever I feel like it. There was a point in time when I didn’t appreciate that or you and I came to regret that. But now that you’ve given me a second chance to show you how much I love you, how much you mean to me, I know I’ll never make that mistake again.

You fill my heart beyond measure. Not a moment goes by when my mind is not preoccupied with the thought of you. I take you to the train every morning and meet you at work every afternoon because any minute longer than the 8 hours a day I’m forced to be away from you is too painful to bear. I want to show you the same love you’ve always given me from now until forever, if you’ll let me.”

The tears trail down your cheeks, lip quivering as Nanami pours his soul out to you.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I want to be with you always. So,” he releases your other hand to pull the ring out of the box, whispering your name as he asks, “Will you marry me…” he chuckles softly as he adds, “again?”

Your mind is reeling. You went from suspecting Nanami of cheating on you five minutes ago to Nanami now proposing to you for what would be the second time in your lives. You peer down at this man you’ve known most of your life, who you’ve experienced so much with – love, pain, loss – and you ask yourself if you could do it all again with him.

There will be fights and disagreements, tears shed and slammed doors. But there will also be laughs and kisses and shared moments making memories together. You’ve seen the changes Nanami has made, you’ve experienced them firsthand. You know this time around could be different if you let it be.

You soak in your surroundings – the rushing waters of the falls, the tropical smell in the air, the sounds of families screaming and laughing. This is what you and Nanami had worked toward. 

The simple idea of Malaysia once tore your relationship to pieces, ruined your marriage and had you moving forward without Nanami Kento in your life. You couldn’t stand to look at Nanami without thinking of Malaysia and the pain it caused you. You once hated this place with every fiber of your being.

Now standing here, in the place that once brought so much turmoil into your life, you stare down at the love of your life and you see hope. You see a real future of true happiness. So you kneel down with Nanami, face to face, eyes locked onto each other and whisper a quiet:

“Yes.”

----------

You and Nanami spend the remaining days in newly engaged couple bliss. You hardly leave your hotel room when you get back to Kuala Lumpur, spending most of the trip tangled in the sheets together. 

As you sit on the plane, awaiting your flight back to Tokyo, you hold your hand out in front of you, admiring your engagement ring. Nanami has a hand resting on the back of your neck where he rubs small circles. He laughs quietly when he sees you wiggle your fingers, the gems sparkling on your hand.

“This ring is so beautiful,” you breathe.

“I’m glad you like it. Satoru had a friend who helped design it.”

“Speaking of Satoru, why don’t you have his number saved in your phone. Would’ve saved me the headache.”

Nanami shrugs. “I did have it saved at first. But he annoyed me once and I deleted it and I don’t care to save it again. Because it’ll only be a matter of time before I delete his information again.”

You nod in understanding, your mind suddenly thinking about how quickly you jumped to conclusions when you thought Nanami was cheating and an idea hits you.

“Maybe we should do couple’s therapy before getting married again,” you suggest.

Nanami hums beside you. “I’m willing. I have no intention of letting this marriage fail for a second time.”

The ding of the airplane cabin goes off, signifying you’ll be taking off soon.

Nanami takes your hand in his, squeezing gently before he leans and runs his nose along the bridge of yours. Then he kisses you sweetly.

“I love you, baby,” he whispers. Even as the plane signals ring and the captain speaks loudly over the speaker, you hear him loud and clear.

“I love you.”

Taglist: @eiflawriting @a-tiny-sandwich @tylersaiddonteatbananas @unhappysap @tmvll9 @reihimbo @lxlilith @blahh222 @animupiglett @lemonadebreeze @p00pdev1l @svm666 @tymlispieces @rzrsblog @4lch3mist @shiinleaf @heavenskudos @kariatenoh @syynnaaah @scarlet-kazuha @shyster001 @sleepydang @marymun @lxttlesxnshine @sexbob-ombbeck @lysa1201 @xq2re @si00p @trashbagz @loveupeople @thereallotus-39 @moonstone-galaxy @levisfootrest @erenputurchildreninsideme @cherry-cola1 @rengokusbonnet @nanagoswife @kuroaka @scovvii @heroof2morrow @immeltinnnng @imm-eri @iluvnanamin @cccldrn-san @bxe-y @trxshpandax @calientees @lyralibra @little-dende @naughteehee

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 34

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You used to long for lazy days. When you worked twelves and barely had enough time for sleep in between. After a week of lazy days, bound to the bed by back pain and Lloyd's overly mindful nagging, you are desperate to be mobile. At least he dropped the hospital thing after you told him no ten times.

You feel freer and looser. See, it always passes. You know your body. Even if it's changed beyond recognition, even as your tits balloon up and your stomach grows rounder by the day.

Besides, you don't go far from bed. The trip down to the sofa is enough to drain you. You lower yourself with a book and some fruity iced tea. The late spring light shines in and hints at the looming arrival of summer.

You're almost finished the book. A feat you've not made in years. You never had time to get past the third chapter but this one hand you by the throat from page one. You quickly lose yourself in the words, the pages open with the bottom of the spine propped up on your stomach.

The soft rustle of leaves and the song of birds adds to the calm hue of the day. It's almost too peaceful. In this house, that's rarely a good side. Something is always set to break the monotony. Rather, someone. 

"There you are, peaches," Lloyd purrs coyly, "elusive as ever."

You don't look away from the book as you hear him behind you. You hum in response and restart the sentence. He comes nearer, his shadow looming over you as you try to keep your focus.

"What's up, baby cakes?" He massages your shoulders as he lurks behind the couch. 

"Reading."

"Boring," he says as he bends down, his lips brushing your hair, "come on, put the book down."

"I'm almost done, you can bother me after."

He huffs. You can practically hear the mope. He pushes away from the sofa and his feet slap on the floor. His figure blurs above the top of the pages as you sense him watching you. 

You try to ignore him. You squint until your brows hurt. You scowl and lower the book.

"Lloyd, please, I–"

You quiet as you get a good look at him. He wears only a black thong, his erection obvious as it's barely restrained by the fabric. You scoff as he flexes and turns, showing you his and the straps that angle at a slant.

He slaps his own ass as he poses for you. You gape, dumbfounded.

"What on earth–"

"Look, I'm not gonna lie, I'm desperate for you, doll face. This thing's tight as ballskin."

"I… I don't even know what to say to that."

"Look, sugar tits," he puts his hand on his hip, "you don't gotta say nothing but we both know once you get the strap on, you know exactly what to say."

'Not right now," you snort, "are you serious? I'm pregnant. Very pregnant."

"It'll fit under, I looked it up." He comes closer and reaches to wiggle free the book from your grasp, "tell me you haven't been dreaming of shoving something up my ass."

"No, because I know you enjoy it too much."

"Bah, baby," he shuts the book and tosses it aside, "it'll loosen us both up."

He takes your hands and pulls you to your feet. You narrow your eyes as his gaze slips from them. His brows raise slightly and he runs his touch along your stomach to cup your tits.

"Wow, I did not think these things could get better," he squeezes and you hiss.

"Ow," you slap his hands, "they're tender."

"They're fucking glorious. Shit, my dick is aching. I think it's gonna split if you don't start fucking me soon."

"That would be wonderful. Save us both a lot of trouble in the future."

"God, I love how you play hard to get," he groans and fondles your tits again, "maybe I should just titty fuck you then. That's always fun…"

"I'd rather the strap," you shove him away, "fine, if I do it, can I finish my book?"

"Right now I'm giving you permission to do anything you want to me, and after, you can go ahead and do whatever you want by yourself."

"Mmm, fair trade," you reach down and flick the leather at the front of the thong, "come on then, let's get it over with."

He winces and cups his crotch. It doesn't deter him though as he waves his other hand past you, "ladies first."

You hear the grit in his voice and it's enough to content you. You should take whatever chance you get to cause him some pain, even if in the end he likes it.

You round the couch and go out into the entryway. You take your time on the stairs. Not just because of your belly but because you can sense his impatience. He squeezes your ass as he follows you.

"God, I love this ass," he snarls, "mmm, the juiciest peach of all."

"You're so lame," you say breathless as you reach the top.

"For you, yeah," he snickers and strides ahead of you.

You trail him as he leaves the bedroom door open. As you get to the room, he has the strap ready to go. You roll your eyes but undress.

"I still don't think it will fit."

"Make it fit," he insists as he untangles it.

You unclasp your bra and take off the pregnancy belt. You groan at the ache in both breast and belly. You grab onto his shoulder and step into the harness.

He pulls it up and slides the curved end into your cunt. You twitch as he secures the straps beneath your bump. You didn't expect this to be more than a honeymoon thing but it's better than him trying to break your back.

He stands straight and looks you up and down. He brings his hands to either side of your belly and bends forward to kiss it. You wince as he keeps his head close to your bump. 

“Look kid, you’re gonna have to close your ears for this one–”

“Ew!” You swat his head, “Lloyd, don’t.”

“Well?!” He stands and rubs his head, “I don’t wanna traumatize our kid.”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up. The kid won’t know–”

“Okay, at least I tried to be considerate.”

“Is that even a thing for you?”

He grimaces and shakes his head, “keep being such a bitch and I’m gonna cum before you even get the tip in.”

You give him a look but can’t resist how your insides flutter. The fullness in your cunt isn’t helping either. You really could use a nice orgasm to loosen up the last of the tension.

“Get on the fucking bed,” you point behind him.

“Yes, mistress,” Lloyd nearly dances before he turns around. “I’ll be a good slave boy.”

“Let’s not say that again,” you follow him as he hooks his thumbs in the sides of his thong.

“Nope, keep that on,” you order and smack his ass.

“Yes!” He gets on his knees and grabs the bottle on the bed. He holds it over his shoulder and you take the lube as he gets into position, “fuck, peaches, were you always such a domme?”

“Be quiet,” you pinch him and feel the strap angled along his cheek. You ooze out the lubes and let it run down in the crack of his ass. He’s almost shaking in excitement. “Don’t,” you warn as you notice his hand trail under him. “Don’t even think of touching yourself.”

“Yes, mistress,” he puts his hand flat with the other.

You stand on your toes and push the tip down between his cheeks. You glide it through the lube, spreading it around his hole. He groans as you prod him teasingly. You lean in just a little but relent, doing it over and over until he whimpers.

“Please just fuck me.”

You laugh and ease into him. Just the tip. He shudders and leans back into you. You grab the straps of the thong and push him off.

“Uh uh,” you tisk. “Turn over.”

He hesitates but obey. He lays on his back, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. He brings his legs up, splaying himself for you as he clutches his thighs. You guide the toy down beneath him as his dick pokes slightly out of the thong. 

You dip into him steadily until you reach the limit. It jolts the toy inside you and a trickle flows into your core. You rock back and watch his stomach clench. You grasp the thong with one hand as you start to fuck him. It slips further down, revealing half his length. 

You watch how his throat bobs, his still unshaven stubble poking out across his chin and cheeks. He shakes each time you thrust. The sight of his pleasure is almost as intoxicating as your own mounts.

You tilt again and again. Losing yourself to your desire. Fuck, you feel it building in you, the tight coil spinning and spinning. You slam into him harder as you get closer and you brace his hip. You’re out of breath, your legs shaky.

You moan as he reaches to touch your hand. He quakes and lets out a guttural growl, “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

He grunts and spasm, his hole tightening around the toy as he babbles and slaps his hand against the bed. He cums with a strangled cry that sounds as stunned as it is delighted. His cum ribbons up his stomach as you bite your lip.

Your own climax crashes upon you swiftly but is cut short but a sudden zap up your spine. Fuck. You lean against him, keeping the weight off your stomach as you almost collapse. You spread your hand over his chest as you push your knees against the bed.

“Help!” You murmur.

[anistarrose]

Chapters: 5/8 Relationships: Barry Bluejeans & Johann the Bard (The Adventure Zone), The Director | Lucretia & Johann the Bard, Johann the Bard & Everyone (The Adventure Zone) Summary: Barry needs to possess a body for an infiltration mission on the Bureau. Johann doesn’t black out when he’s supposed to. For both of them, this has ramifications.

After sundown on Candlenights Eve, Johann’s friends lay claim to a corner of the cafeteria, and bust out the tankards of some potent fucking eggnog — in Pringles’ memory, obviously. Johann’s first choice for how to spend this evening, frankly, would be to stay at his desk, quietly fine-tuning custom music boxes to hand out tomorrow instead of burning himself out on partying the night before — but, admittedly, playing tunes for Killian, Avi, and Boyland to drunkenly carol to is probably the runner-up option. He’s lived enough breakneck whirls around the sun to know there are more worse fates than better ones.

He half-wonders if Lucretia will swing by, but she doesn’t. There’s also no sign of Tres Horny Boys, despite the whole ostensible “Pringles Memorial” thing — but there is a curious little boy detective up past his bedtime, who sticks his head in and forces Killian to knock a cup of adult eggnog out of his hand. Johann manages not to drop a beat of Fantasy Winter Wonderland despite it all, and when a totally sloshed Brad explains that this is a big kid party for grown-ups, Angus takes it well outside of wrinkling his nose at the wording, and politely tosses both some chocolate gelt and real-ass gold pieces into Johann’s open violin case. Johann might never get used to having a child on the moonbase, but at least the little guy’s shaping up to be quite a patron of the arts some day, if he’s already doing this with his salary at ten years old or whatever.

It’s only once Angus leaves, with a promise of yes I’ll go straight to bed, Killian sir, don’t worry, that Johann realizes the cafeteria’s looking empty without him. Not because Angus was expected — but because others have been excusing themselves, too. Some of Leeman Kessler’s old teammates who weren’t too into spiked eggnog have long since gone on their way, and on the total flip side, Carey hasn’t shown her face since she announced a bathroom trip ten minutes ago.

(keep reading on ao3) or (start from the beginning!)

[ginsengkitten]

༺ Beautiful Dangerous༻

A slashxreader fanfiction

༺☆༻

Chapter One:

Tower Records

word count: approx.: 2900

Trailer/Moodboard here :)

☆ Authors Notes ☆

ty for reading. This is mostly a world building intro but I hope y’all like it :) - also I will be including photos and music that inspires or I felt matches each chapter, just for fun. This story takes place in some sort of fictional timeframe of 1984-86 ish when GNR had just started developing/finalizing their OG line up. I know not all the pics and timelines necessarily add up but this literally isn’t real so whatever!

Track list:

You really got me - The Kinks

Green Onions - Booker T. & the M.G.s

Foxey Lady - Jimi Hendrix

Your parents had shipped you out to your cousins home in the Hollywood Hills every summer since you were 10. The sprawling green hills sprinkled with Tuscan topped mansions upheld to excite you. Simply because there was so much more to be discovered outside of the ritz. This summer was going to be perhaps the best one yet, because now that you were turning 18, Uncle Rob would finally allow you to go down into the city for the first time.

Uncle Rob and Aunt Shena were the most uptight, stick up the ass, pair of individuals to bethrall the hills. You would think with the unceasing access to every pill, herb, and juice in Hollywood from Robs fancy job would have eased them up over the years; their long time neighbor, Dave, was one of the most sought out coke suppliers in the area - or at least that's what your cousin Daisy has told you- and Daisy liked to dramatize occasionally.... Daisy also says that her parents think too much ibuprofen could spell a trip to the confessional at church. This statement however was proven to be true because of the time Aunt Shena almost refused to give you a 50 mg Tylenol the time you had started your period in their guest bedroom.

Needless to say, it was in agreement with your own parents that you'd not be permitted to go down to the city until you were 18. "The city is where the devil preys on gods most vulnerable and precious spirits" Aunt Shena would recite this at least ten times throughout each summer visit, sure to remind you of the evil that lurked in the streets below. Most summer weeks were spent at the house, but it sure beat Indiana summers back home. Mondays were family nights at home, Tuesdays were beach days, Wednesdays were usually home days too but occasionally sailing on the family boat was allotted. You didn't have a boat back home in Indiana. Daddy's money was steady but not BOAT money steady. Plus it was Indiana- where would the sailing even take place? Lake Michigan?

Thursdays, the cinema would have discount movie matinees. If the film had been pre approved through the other moms in Aunt Shenas crochet circle, then she would take you and Daisy to go see it as a treat. Occasionally, Daisy would ask to use the restroom and you both would sneak into another screen room to peek at the other movies you weren't allowed to see, up until you accidentally snuck into a showing of 'The Evil Dead'. Both you and Daisy had nightmares for weeks and her parents couldn't figure out why, and no shot in hell would either of you admit what happened.

Daisy was fun and secretive like that. You appreciated her ability to lie straight to her parents face. Daisy liked to adventure a little bit more than what her parents would allow. Naturally she became versed in the art of bullshitting her parents.

Daisy was almost like a stranger to her parents. It was sad in a way but mostly just impressive. Daisy would steal cigarettes from her dad and stash them in her pencil case and sell them to the other girls in her church group. She also snuck out regularly, mostly to the local park to meet up with boys from school. She was brave. Real brave. She was cool. Real fucking cool. In fact, she was so cool and so brave, that she got the mastermind plan to steal her fathers Pontiac Firebird while he was away on business and Aunt Shena was knocked unconscious from her qualludes. (But god forbid ibuprofen right?).

"I don't know why I hadn't done this sooner!" Daisy bounced in the drivers seat like a mental patient. The engine cried out aggressively and the whole vehicle roared awake. There’s no way the entire street didn’t hear that. "And you're SURE your mother isn't going to find out? What about your daddy?" You pegged for final assurance from Daisy before becoming an accessory to theft. "Daddy won't ever know. You know why? Cuz' you remember Jeff from my church? He showed me how to roll back the odometer on a car in exchange for...well for never-mind but you don't gotta sweat about a thing Y/N. Now cut the square talk we gotta get to Tower Records before it closes!".

That's another thing Daisy kept secret. Her music. Daisy had a whole stack of vinyl records along with a record player, stashed under her bed. She would purchase raunchy records like Tina Turner and Cheap Trick, and slide them in the back of the more inconspicuous records like Chuck Girard and Bob Dylan. One of Daisy's boyfriends last summer had gifted her an Aerosmith record. Daisy played it for you once and that's how you first learned what rock music was. Some kind of bug bit you then. You itched to hear more, but between the uber cult of Daisy's parents and your own sheltered family back in indiana, who were perpetually trapped in the era of disco music, rock music was hard to come by. Rock music was foreign to you but felt familiar. You'd never felt a craving for sound before hearing it. So when Daisy devised to steal her dads car to go visit Tower Records in the city, you shoved all notion of "evils that lurk below" and the two of you ripped down to the sunset strip.

-

It wasn't that you weren't adventurous too. You could be if you wanted to. You were just too busy to be bothered with mischief like Daisy. While you believed yourself to be an open minded individual, it was clear Aunt Shenas repeated affirmations of danger sat in the back of your mind, welling up further and further to the forefront while the lights of the city glittered closer and closer into view.

"Wow wow wow Y/N...look at it all right? You seein this?" Daisy's eyes glazed over as the neon lights poured over the Pontiac. It was like nothing you had ever seen before. Or her. Daisy had only made it down to the city a handful of times but never at night. Each building had its own neon get up signage. Loads of people strolled the night street. It was busy! Your heart pounded in your chest a little bit. Fear and excitement all in one. You couldn't take your eyes off the passing sceneries. You tried to take it all in. Burger joints you had seen a million commercials for bustled with crews of hot rods parked in the parking lots, engines proudly displayed. Beautiful women leaning into the windows of old rusty cars, hung out on the darker corners in big groups for some reason. Was everyone down here revolting against wearing clothes?

"Tower Records baby!" Daisy sang as she pulled into the parking lot. Huh. It wasn't really a tower like the name had suggested. Rather a dingy stand alone strip mall off the corner of the strip. The disappointing reality shocked you back to your more cautious senses. If anyone finds out we're here we're totally busted.

You stepped out of the car and a wall of hollywoods finest scents burned your nose. The air down here wasn't like the air in the hills. Air can't be so different like that can it? "God I hope they have the new Cyndi Lauper release." Daisy said, pushing into the store door with her back.

The door chirped out a small out of tune "ding!" To notify the staff of the new and completely out of element customers entering. Two scrawny flower fresh girls in inconspicuous uniform-like attire, looking plain and straight as an arrow. The saying "bull in a China shop" but as if curiously reversed "China in a bull shop". Daisy somewhat fit the bill better but you-you did not look hip enough to be in a record store, or the state of California. Even if it was a dingy strip mall. Which made you all the more nervous.

A few other customers sleuthed the aisles, clearly regulars. You tried to stay out of everyone's way while you tried to keep track of Daisy darting into the vinyl labyrinth. You scanned the sea of music. Tracing your fingers along the spines of sleeves. So much rock music! You glanced around to see Daisy already chatting up one of the grungy male employees. Your eyes caught a gorgeous vibrant yellow sleeve and you plucked it out. 'Are you experienced' by Jimi Hendrix.

You'd heard of him you think. Maybe on the news somewhere? He seems like a big rocker name.

You made your way over to the front corner  of the store by the check out where they had open record players where customers could play records and listen to new samples. You held the album in your hands and stared at its dazzling colors. Almost spellbound until;

"Foxey Lady."

The sudden voice snapped you out of your trance and you looked around. Suddenly catching the cashier at the empty register. Did HE say that? To ME? You hesitated to question if he spoke to you. He seemed like the type to cause trouble. Was this a cat call? Is this what cat calling is? One time mother had been cat called in front of a sears and daddy found the man who did it and really gave him a reaming. She warned you about dirty and dangerous men in the streets who call women obscenities for fun. What jerk cat calls a young woman shopping at their own store?

"Excuse me…?" You questioned.

"The record." He pointed to your hands gripping the yellow vinyl.

"Foxey lady. It's the best song on that album." He connected. Your eyes glance back down at the track list and sure enough 'Foxey Lady' was spelled out. Your face suddenly blooms pink in embarrassment as you look back up to him. That's not what you were expecting from this guy.

He leaned his back against the wall behind the counter. It was impossible to tell if he was looking at you because his eyes were protected from a curtain of thick, pretty dark curls and sunglasses….indoors….at night. His arms crossed coolly. He had an aura of mischief about him. He was almost like a ghost. Dressed in all black leather. You'd never seen someone dressed in only black clothes before. Maybe he was a rocker type too.

"Oh..uh….I'll need to give it a listen then." You replied politely and cordially with a nervous smile, averting his face to hide your obvious embarrassment. You became slightly flustered. He didn't drop his attention towards you. You start to fiddle with the record, somehow losing your sense of coordination because you were being watched. Suddenly the record isn't lining up correctly. The lid almost clamps on your hand but something catches it and spares your fingers. You look up again and he's now in front of you, acting like some sort of hero. An intense mixture of tobacco, rubbing alcohol and an almost sweet musk surrounds you. You now see that he is in fact looking at you. You stare at him like a deer in headlights. Stunned, embarrassed and confused at how he managed to sneak his way over to you so quickly. "Here, I'll play it for you." His lips curl up slightly into an almost sickeningly lovely smirk. He places his hand upon yours and kindly removes it out of the way. You step aside and allow him to continue, still stunned and nervous.

Not only had your heart already been on high alert from the firebird thievery, a guy was now in your direct personal space. A potentially dangerous guy. Well no- he wasn't cat calling you after all right? And he just helped you and? He is sort of nicer than you expected. He just seems so...cool?

All up in your personal space. It wasn't like you were a prude! You'd kissed a boy before! Even held hands too. Granted the kiss was on the cheek. But this guy just kind of....took over. His presence was so laid back and yet demanded the attention of the room. It was hard not to want to stare back at him. You wanted to better analyze this predator/prey situation here. If he's so dangerous, why is he being so kind? It took one glance at him up close and you were starting to call bullshit on Aunt Shena's precautions altogether. You'd been in the city for almost an hour and remained entirely unscathed.

Your hand still felt electric from his touch. His eyes only briefly detaching from you to put the record on.

A funky rock ensemble flowed out of the record. The same type of musical pleasure you had heard from the Aerosmith record, revisited your body. A rougher, harder groove than what's on the radio. It was melodic and fierce. The guy redirected himself to you once more. Watching you for your reaction to the song. You nervously nod your head to the beat, meeting his gaze. Once you connect sights, your stomach jumps in a swirl. Butterflies soar in circles inside you. This oddly intimate interaction but you couldn't seem to pull away. Almost spellbound yet again but for an entirely different feeling.

He began mouthing the lyrics, still staring back at you over a sea of tension thick air.

'You know you're a cute little heartbreaker'

Your face is rushing hot. It was almost like he was intentionally singing these words to you.

'And you know you're a sweet little love maker'

He smirked at this one. You turned now what you must have assumed was red with embarrassment. You break your gaze and look down at your shoes and then glance around the shop to locate Daisy. The shop was mainly now empty as the night had grown in. Daisy could still be found giggling away with another boy in the far end of the store. Your heart fluttered rapidly. You suddenly feel the air in front of you grow warmer. Looking back he had stepped closer to you and space between you had shrunk. He continues.

'I wanna take you home-

I won't do you no harm'

He held a smug look on his face as his lips mouthed these totally obscene lyrics to you. Like he knew it was not something you'd ever heard before. Your naïve shock seemed to entertain him.

'You got to be all mine, all mine'

Ooh Foxey Lady.'

"You dig it?" He asked still holding a smirk. "Definitely" You admit all too quickly. He give a slight breathy chuckle. Your sure answer when you had seemed so unsure about everything else til then was cute to him. A gal who was on board for rock n roll was nothing but perfection to him. But you didn't look the part, and that amused him. Your light floral scent drifted sweetly around him, he was unable to ignore you as soon as you had walked in and he had watched your every move. A nervous animal. Timid and clearly not someone he had seen in before. The girls that normally perused Tower Records were hot but they were rough around the edges. You- you were something sweet…something different altogether he thought. You were like a breath of fresh air to him. What's that saying...opposites attract?

"You like it so much you can have it." He said, his voice a lower octave.

"Oh well I was thinking of buying something el-" you started to politely object.

"No. " he laughs at your oblivion. "Just take it. It's yours." He pushes it into your hands. You're a little in shock once more just at the thought of stealing? Twice in one night? You really like the record and you would love to own it...but. You look around nervously.

"Here Foxey, All you." He firmly asserts it into your grasp, lets go and begins to walk back behind his counter.

"Y-you could get into trouble for this you know." You point out with concern for this kind stranger. He waves you off with his hand. "we're closing miss, you'll have to get." busying himself in false cashiering practices he had probably never paid attention to until now. Daisy meets you mid store. She hardly notices the record in your hands or the insane cashier who just let you steal from his store. "I've just met the cutest boy, Y/N! And he’s in his own band! I'll tell you on the way back. “ She giggled. “Let's get sodas maybe too if some where's open." Daisy ushered you to the door, blind in her own personal thrills to notice you looking back over your shoulder to meet the gaze of the cashier once more, who to your delight had removed his sunglasses, already staring back at you, watching you leave. He gave you another sly smile and you returned one of your own, forming some sort of mutual pact of this secret.

Why did he think you would keep this a secret? Why did he trust you like that? You were going to after all, but how did he know?

Doesn’t he care about getting in to trouble?

[thelightsandtheroses]

Secret Smile: Checks and Balances (Chapter Three)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose. Word Count: 3.4k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, mentions of alcohol, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors used. Author Notes - Thank you for all your comments, reblogs so far - they mean a lot. As always your comments and feedback are deeply appreciated, I’d love to know what you think of the chapter and fic so far. There is a Narcos Easter Egg in this chapter and if anyone catches it, please please let me know by sending me a comment or ask - I am super curious to see if anyone notices it. The gorgeous banner is by @/wildemaven

Chapter Two| Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

If ten years ago you had told your younger self that you’d be working with Javier Peña to bring down a cartel while you were living in Colombia, you would have laughed.

You would have laughed a lot at the sheer absurdity of it all.

You might, however, have thought how great that scenario could be. While Javier was always your brother’s friend and not yours, ten years ago you liked him and would have thought that he’d make a good colleague. He was smart, he was funny and he didn’t make you feel awful every time Rafa also drove you to the mall at the weekend like most of Rafa’s friends did. His other friends acted like there was decades between you rather than just a few years.

If Javier actually wanted you here with him, was open to working with you, perhaps things would be different. It might even feel more like you could have imagined it would.

 He doesn’t want you here though; it’s clear he doesn’t want anyone in this role, but also that somehow it’s worse for him that it’s you.

You ended yesterday with a tentative peace but it feels so unsteady, so easily broken.

None of this is what you anticipated when you took this job. You were supposed to be escaping a difficult work environment by leaving the country in the first place. What you had told your friends was an adventure, an experience you needed to have while you still could, is actually turning out to just be a repeat of the same old challenges in a different setting.

The coffee and food’s pretty good though. You wonder if it’s worth it just for that.

Your coffee pot hisses on the gas stove as you make your way up to the kitchen to finish making breakfast. You barely slept last night so you’ve already been up for some time and are planning on getting into the office early.  

Your apartment is one of the many the embassy provides for its staff. It’s plain and the furnishings are basic, but you’re comfortable here.  You’re based on the ground floor, so you don’t have to worry about the stairs. The main living area walls are a little faded now and the paint colour falls somewhere between orange and peach. The apartment is surprisingly spacious though, however after living in such a small apartment in DC it could just be your perception.

You’ve tried to make it your own by swapping the two dog related sketches hanging in the hall that you couldn’t any make sense of with photos of your loved ones instead. You have a lot of questions for the person who lived here before. Were they dog people? Was it an inside joke perhaps?

If you could stop tripping on the split level, this place would probably be perfect.

The few personal touches you’ve either bought from DC or in your first week in Colombia have helped make it feel homely though. The patterned comforter on the faded leather couch, a few photos of friends and family scattered around, several orchids you fell in love with and foolishly thought would be easy to keep alive.

You take a large gulp of your coffee and take a bite of your eggs, turning the radio on while you finish eating.

You freeze as you hear the newsreader’s words, abandoning your breakfast instantly, before picking up your handbag and walking straight out of your apartment.

This is going to be a mess.

You’re already in Javier’s office when he arrives, sitting cross legged on the black Chesterfield couch, scanning through a file.

You had arrived at the embassy an hour earlier than you usually would. Most people were still at home or on their way in and you were looking forward to the quiet. You’d made a beeline for your office to get ahead of what had happened but Robert, one of the other lawyers, was also already in and you didn’t want him hearing everything.

You went to Javi’s office instead. Thankfully one of the janitors let you in and you had started building a response plan immediately.

This situation with Duffy and Lopez could definitely become the sort of mess you needed to help manage.

You look around at the papers strewn on his desk and you are slightly impressed by the amount of chaos you’ve caused in less than an hour.

Javi looks decidedly irritated by the scene in front of him. You quickly untangle yourself off your seat and stand up, guiltily picking your cup of coffee off his desk.

“Is this a treat I can expect every morning?” he asks lightly.

“Well, the early bird does catch the worm, Javier.”

“Apparently so.” For a second, he sounds so familiar. This isn’t the Agent Peña you met in the ambassador’s office yesterday. This is Javi, Rafael’s best friend. This is the same Javi who waited outside your school with Rafael when you were being bullied and the three of you would walk back to your house together.  There’s mischief in his voice and for a second, he sounds younger.

You can’t get lost in memories now though.

”Did you hear about Duffy and Lopez?” you ask, skipping straight to the reason you’re here in his office.

Javier nods, runs a hand through his hair. “It was on the radio as I drove in.”

“I’ve been on the phone already, that’s uh, why I used your office. Robert’s already in mine and I needed privacy. They’re furious, Javi. Please tell me that they notified the police in Cali this was happening. Please?”

“It was a fast-moving opportunity,” he says, wincing at the way your face darkens. “They didn’t. They wouldn’t. Historically we’ve also had issues with that sort of thing, people in other people’s pockets so - this is just how it goes. You’ll learn that along the way.”

“Shit. Okay, we can - we’ll uh, we’ll deal with it. It’s done, can’t change it now. I’ve got some ideas, it’s manageable.”

“So, what do we do here then, Blue? You gonna help me navigate this?” You raise your eyebrows at Javi’s tone. There’s annoyance in his tone but he says your nickname softly. He looks exhausted already, as though he’s been stationed here for a decade as opposed to a day. Perhaps that’s not so far from the truth though. He’s been here before, he spent years here.

“Why else would I be here?” you ask flatly. “I didn’t even get to finish my breakfast this morning. There’s a meeting - actually, you have a meeting in just over an hour with the Colombians and the ambassador. We need to be ready for it. You need to be ready for it, Javi.”

“So, we what? What’s the play? You said you had some ideas, I’ll all ears.”

“I think Duffy and Lopez’s visas are guaranteed to be pulled at this point. That’s probably non-negotiable. I think you’ll have to eat some humble pie, same with the ambassador but that should be enough. It’s the principle, they want to make it clear to both you and the ambassador that they’re running things, not us, okay?”

Javi exhales heavily. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke. Much. More socially than anything. Rarely.”

Javi raises an eyebrow at you.

“I mean that I don’t have any on me.” You look at Javi’s dejected face. “I’m sorry!”

“This is going to be a great day, isn’t it?”

You smile widely. “That’s more like it, Javi. Keep up that winning attitude!” 

Javi walks into your office later that afternoon. After helping him prepare for the meeting with the Ambassador and Vargas, you’ve been pulled into your own meetings, handing off projects you’d started before you were allotted this special assignment.

Several of your colleagues look up at him with a range of expressions from curiosity and admiration to annoyance. Everyone else is packing up for the end of their day but you’re still at your desk. At first you weren’t sure what you were waiting for but now you know.

He looks dejected.  That’s the first thing you see. It’s as though all of the air has been sucked out of him; he’s flat. Even his eyes look lifeless somehow.; they’re dull, colder even.

You’ve never seen him like this before; you remember him so differently. He was driven and ambitious, yes, but there wasn’t this visible weight pulling him down. His smile met his eyes back then.

At least, that’s how you remember him.

Javi loosens his tie a little as he leans against your desk; you look at his tie, it’s blue and gold today.

“Rough meeting?” you ask politely, picking your coffee cup up and taking a delicate sip.

“They’re not letting me replace my team in Cali,” he says in a low voice, “Did you know about this? Was this one of your ideas>”

“Oh.”

“Look, it’s bad enough Duffy and Lopez are out. I get why, I’m okay with it. They’re telling me I can’t send any other agents out there though? How do I do my job because I’ve been back less than a week and my agents are questioning me already. Are you gonna help me navigate me that? That’s what I need from you.”

“I’m sure there are reasons,” you say gently. If Javi says the word ‘navigate’ one more time, you think you might kick him, or slap him, or spill your coffee on him. No, no, you wouldn’t waste your coffee, even if it is bad quality. 

“Yeah, the reason is that they don’t want any of this. You do realise what you’re here for, don’t you? This assignment, what they want from you … it’s to block me.“

You scowl. “I’m not blocking anyone, Javier. I’m just here to help and to ensure everything is by the books, watertight so that we have a strong case when we extradite them.”

“You actually believe that?” he asks, an incredulous expression on his face.

You falter slightly. You did believe that - you want to continue to believe that, but if you’re honest you’re not so sure anymore.

“I do,” you say, smiling tightly.

“By the book. You think they’re playing by the book? Do you know how all the checks and balances work down here? The Cali cartel are negotiating a surrender with no consequences. It’s a negotiation where they have all the bargaining power, that seem right to you?”

“You can’t pretend that rules don’t matter, that checks and balances are irrelevant. It’s not how it works.”

“I didn’t say that,” Javi says, shaking his head.

Rules matter to you. It might sound uptight and inflexible, but there’s a system for a reason. Your whole career has been about upholding standards, about ensuring that justice is obtained when rules are broken. You’re not quite as evangelical about it as some of the people you went to law school with, but this matters to you.

It matters because you know what it’s like when those checks and balances don’t matter; when rules are taken as loose guidance or stretched and exploited until they break. You carry those invisible scars from DC, coupled with the complete sense of failure that the rules hadn’t mattered. Not in that scenario, not when it what came to it.

Maybe Javi’s right.

“It’ll be by the book,” Javi says gently, looking at you with all of his attention. “But I can’t guarantee they’re out there doing the same thing.”

He’s standing so close to you right now. You can smell the sharp mint on his breath, either gum or those tiny solid mints you get a tin. You’re not sure which it is; which one of the two is most like Javi anymore. The mint is clearly to mask something, not alcohol, but you can just about make out lingering traces of cigarette smoke following him too.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a growing sense of dread constricting around your stomach like vines.

“What do you know about what’s happened in Yumbo?” he asks in a low voice.

There’s a small TV in the office. The local news plays in the background; the calm intonations of the newsreader fading into white noise.

You look over to see footage of Cali and walk closer so you can hear the report. This is the tragedy Javi told you about.

The cause was a gas leak?

No, because Javi told you that the journalist who approached him had indicated it was the Cali cartel. Why would the inspector say this though?

You left DC for a reason. For many reasons actually. If there is one thing that would affect you it’s a cover up, it’s deliberately concealing the truth. You can’t take watching a miscarriage of justice before you; that’s not why you got into law.

Javi’s right. The Rodriguez brothers, all of them, they need to be held to account, to justice.

You don’t want to be the blocker; you don’t want to be the person bought in to stop justice being served. You thought this role would be about ensuring a watertight case, one that would get justice.

No. No, this is not what you signed up for. This is not what you were promised.

Javi’s right about something else too - you’re naive. It surprises you. You thought the years of legal work, of life experience would have altered that, but clearly it hasn’t.

It’s time to change things.

You neatly stack the paperwork and lock it in your desk, before sweeping your Filofax and assorted pens into your handbag.

You need a plan.

You need to find a way to fix this.

You remind him of home.

Laredo hasn’t felt like home in years, but it transpires you can’t escape your hometown. Javi laughs bitterly; turns out that he can’t even escape his hometown more than two thousand miles away.

It’s not that home is Laredo. You don’t just remind him of there; you remind him of who he was before. Before the DEA, before Escobar, hell before Lorraine even.

It’s unspeakably cruel that you’re the one who has been bought in to ruin his chances of getting this one right.

Talking to Stechner in the bar made it clear; he’s here as decoration. Agent Peña; the man who helped bring down Escobar and will therefore add weight to the legitimacy of these negotiations. There’ll be no police work, no actual justice.

If there were any justice in the world, Javier, you’d be in jail.

Stechner’s words haunt him, continually replay in his mind. That whole exchange rendered Javi too much like his old self. Less than forty-eight hours in Colombia and he’d started smoking again, slept with an intern, all his plans lay in ash.

It became worse when he spoke to Martinez after the meeting about Duffy and Lopez. Martinez made it clear that he’d helped create this problem.

Javi lights a cigarette, moves from the couch to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

This is such a fucking mess already.

He’s taken aback by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Automatically he grabs his sidearm from the coffee table, holding it low as he moves to the front door.

“Javi?” a familiar voice asks.

Javi opens the door, placing his gun down on the hallway table.

“Really?” you ask, watching the scene from the doorway with raised eyebrows.

“How’d you know where I live?” he asks, returning to the doorway and tapping his fingers on top of the door jamb as he leans against the doorframe.

“I may have access to paperwork,” you say, a slightly shifty expression on your face. “They have a few of the attachés housed in this building, I think.”

“That is kind of creepy, Blue. Just turning up like this and looking at paperwork and -”

“Shut up. Please shut up.”

“If I just turned up -”

“I’m leaving,” you say, lips pursed together with annoyance or frustration.

Javi smiles in spite of himself, reaches out to touch your arm. He can smell your perfume; crisp and bright. Citrus and sharp notes rather than the softer vanilla and gourmand perfumes he’s used to. It suits you.

“It’s fine.”

He holds the door open for you, lets you walk right into his apartment. He notices how you scan the space around you, brush imaginary dust off your clothes.

You’ve changed since the office; you’re dressed more casually. A loose t-shirt with a band logo, jeans and sandals. You look younger, more how he remembers you. He’d always been Rafa’s friend, not yours, but sometimes you’d talk to him when he was waiting for Rafa or if you bumped into him in town.

You used to be like that; friendly. Your childhood nickname of Blue was a reference to the flowers you loved as a child, and it wasn’t just bluebonnets, it was any flowers at one point. It was a misnomer though, a joke on a joke, because you’d never seemed morose when you were young. You were always cheerful, optimistic, almost unfailingly positive. Even now, Javi sees that brightness in you, a little duller, a little dampened by time. It’s still there though, shining through layers of bureaucracy.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks. He wonders if you’ve heard about him sending that agent and his partner to Cali, if you’ve come all this way to admonish him.

He braces himself for the criticism, for the scolding at breaching processes, at not telling you. He had to do something though.

“You were right.”

Javi doesn’t skip a beat, manages to hide his surprise. “Obviously. So, you came all this way to tell me that?”

“I -”

“What was I right about again, cariño?” he asks, aiming for lazy disinterest but genuinely curious.

“They want me to block you. They’re working on the surrender and the gas thing - they just covered it up, Javi. People died. Children died, and hundreds got sick and it’s just swept under the carpet? The Cali cartel face no consequences for this? I - they just surrender and no one knows?”

Javi doesn’t say anything. He’s not entirely sure what your play is, if you’re testing him or if what you are saying is genuine.

You look wrecked though; he can see the frustration and despair in your eyes, a familiar expression he’s faced in the mirror more than once since he joined the DEA.

It’s real. It’s real, or you’re the best damn actress he’s ever met.

“You must hate me.”

“Nah, not really. It’s - maybe I need someone to help keep me in the lines.” If he had had you a few years ago, maybe Cali wouldn’t be in the same place right now. Martinez’ words earlier, the way he looked at Javi, repeat again and again in his mind.

When you sell your soul to the devil, you’re not allowed to ask for it back.

Javi needs to stop the Cali cartel, to arrest the godfathers, to prove it can be done and that justice, justice will matter. He thinks it might be the only way he’ll know peace right now. He’s trying, he’s trying so fucking hard to make it right this time.

If they let him. Hell, if you let him. They even chose a ghost from home to be the person who’s there to block him, stop him. Javi swears it’s deliberate.

“What did you say earlier? Checks and balances matter. That’s right too.”

“Oh, because I’ve been thinking and it’s all fucked up. I think we need to still - people need to see them in handcuffs, through the system, that’s what’s needed.”

“Okay,” Javi says, unsure of where you’re taking this, certain he’s misunderstanding the message between your words.

“And it does matter, doing this right does matter. You and me, we make this watertight, by the book, but we have to get them, Javi. We have to get them.”

Tag List

Secret Smile tag-list: @pedgeitopascal @sullyosully @catsickyellow @spishsstuff @casa-boiardi @living-for-jesus-and-telenovelas @pastelnap @babeincolor @iamskyereads

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa

If you want to be added to (or removed from) one of the tag lists, let me know or you can get notifications for @thelightsandtheroses-fics if you prefer. If you do not have an age or age range showing you are over 18, I will not add you to this list. I block ageless and blank blogs.

[nori-the-cat]

BOYNEXTDOOR (BND) Sungho as a Boyfriend

Remember, this is just my interpretation based on the tarot spread. All of this are alleged and for entertainment purposes only. Take it with a grain of salt.

Sungho as a Boyfriend:

Cards: the fool, three of wands, the chariot, eight of pentacles, knight of wands, five of pentacles, five of pentacles, ten of cups, nine of swords, the lovers, five of wands, and seven of swords.

To whoever is reading this post, it is safe for me to share this. His energy is pretty open. In fact, he's so cute and his energy is likeable.

Hold on, this dude is only 20? What a coincidence that I find him cute.

As it turns out, he was born in the same year as RIIZE's Seunghan and Sohee? It makes sense now. There's this undeniable youthful vibe he has like he just stepped out of his teenage years with all that contagious energy.

Sungho seems super chill and down for anything when it comes to dating. New experiences? Totally his vibe. Routine? Nah, that's snooze-ville. This guy's all about keeping things exciting, so buckle up for an adventure!

If you're into adventurous and spontaneous guys, Sunghoo is defo the type who would compliment you.

Sungho is all about planning epic adventures with his partner (you). This guy gets pumped dreaming up dates and trips – like, seriously, next weekend could be a taco crawl or a hike to that hidden waterfall you saw on TikTok. Buckle up, because with Sungho, there's always something exciting on the horizon.

Imagine Sungho surprising you with tickets to a new art exhibit. He's been researching for weeks, knowing you'd love the artist's work (Three of Wands). He's planned a romantic dinner afterwards at a cosy restaurant (The Chariot).

Again, it's probably the age. I guess it's because he's a few years younger than me so, while I was doing this reading I felt like I was "Noona neomu yeppo" (Cues Replay by Shinee playing in the background.) I was also smiling a lot when I was typing down the energy that I got from this reading. His energy was hitting it off with mine.

I think Sungho seems like someone who would be a fun and energetic partner for someone who enjoys adventure, spontaneity, and having exciting plans on the horizon. He's spontaneous, but also a planner. He combines a love for new experiences with some planning to make those adventures happen.

Another likeable aspect of him as a boyfriend is a reliable and serious man. He puts in the work and is dedicated to his partner (you), which makes me Sungho's not here for the drama, he's all about building a solid relationship.

This dude puts in the effort, you know, the reliable kind. He's always down to work on things and make sure you both feel happy and fulfilled. Bonus points, he's always looking for ways to level up the relationship – think cute date nights, open communication, and that feeling of being on the same chapter.

He's my type.

Sungho? Dude wears his heart on his sleeve. Big time. Like, expect grand gestures, compliments that'll make you blush, and the whole "lovey dovey" package. This guy isn't afraid to show how much he cares, so get ready for some serious romance vibes.

Yup, I like this guy.

Expect cheesy compliments, grand gestures (or maybe just really good cooking!), and zero chill when it comes to how much he cares. Prepare to be swept off your feet (or at least get a really cute handwritten note).

Although Sungho is caring and affectionate, he also expect the same from his partner (you).

Sungho is a total giver in a relationship! Big heart, always there for you – that kind of thing. But hey, we all have our needs, right? Sometimes a giving person might worry they're not getting the same back. Totally normal! The key is open communication (like, endless pizza night chats) to make sure you both feel secure and loved up.

He also has expectations of wanting the relationship to go well and be seen as successful. This could mean he overthink things. He might doubt himself, his partner (you), or the relationship itself.

For example, Sungho might get stressed about how strong the relationship is, you know, like overthinking things sometimes. Although it happens to the best of us, Just gotta make sure you guys communicate openly so you're both on the same page.

Despite his great qualities, Sungho does overthink a lot.

He seems like the kind of guy who takes dating seriously. Maybe he overthinks things a bit before committing, but that just means he really cares about finding the right person. It's kind of sweet, you know?

Sungho is also a bit competitive, you know, the kind of guy who always wants to win at board games, even when it gets a little intense? Maybe he gets caught up in the moment and forgets it's supposed to be fun. Or, like, sometimes he might downplay things to avoid fights, even if it means not being totally honest. It's probably not because he's trying to be shady, but more like he just hates seeing you upset.

Sungho's Love Language:

Acts of Service: He enjoys taking action to show his love through things like cooking, planning dates, and working on the relationship.

Words of Affirmation: He gives compliments freely and isn't afraid to show his love. Date ideas with Sungho:

You and Sungho spend the week researching scenic hikes near your city. You settle on a challenging but beautiful trail with a hidden waterfall at the end. You both pack snacks, sturdy shoes, and a camera, excited for the adventure. On the hike, Sungho points out interesting plants and tells jokes to keep the mood light. At the waterfall, you take photos, have a picnic lunch, and enjoy the view together.

Overall, Sungho seems like a great boyfriend for someone who enjoys adventure, romance, and open communication, but it's important to be aware of his potential need for reassurance and tendency to overthink.

[ginsengkittensecondary]

I HAVE MOVED TO MY MAIN. PLEASE FOLLOW GINSENGKITTEN FOR UPDATES. STORY WILL CONTINUE THERE. <3

༺ Beautiful Dangerous༻

A slashxreader fanfiction

༺☆༻

Chapter One:

Tower Records

word count: approx.: 2900

☆ Authors Notes ☆

ty for reading. This is mostly a world building intro but I hope y’all like it :) - also I will be including photos and music that inspires or I felt matches each chapter, just for fun. This story takes place in some sort of fictional timeframe of 1984-85 ish when GNR had just started developing/finalizing their OG line up. I know not all the pics and timelines necessarily add up but this literally isn’t real so whatever!

Track list:

You really got me - The Kinks

Green Onions - Booker T. & the M.G.s

Foxey Lady - Jimi Hendrix

Your parents had shipped you out to your cousins home in the Hollywood Hills every summer since you were 10. The sprawling green hills sprinkled with Tuscan topped mansions upheld to excite you. Simply because there was so much more to be discovered outside of the ritz. This summer was going to be perhaps the best one yet, because now that you were turning 18, Uncle Rob would finally allow you to go down into the city for the first time.

Uncle Rob and Aunt Shena were the most uptight, stick up the ass, pair of individuals to bethrall the hills. You would think with the unceasing access to every pill, herb, and juice in Hollywood from Robs fancy job would have eased them up over the years; their long time neighbor, Dave, was one of the most sought out coke suppliers in the area - or at least that's what your cousin Daisy has told you- and Daisy liked to dramatize occasionally.... Daisy also says that her parents think too much ibuprofen could spell a trip to the confessional at church. This statement however was proven to be true because of the time Aunt Shena almost refused to give you a 50 mg Tylenol the time you had started your period in their guest bedroom.

Needless to say, it was in agreement with your own parents that you'd not be permitted to go down to the city until you were 18. "The city is where the devil preys on gods most vulnerable and precious spirits" Aunt Shena would recite this at least ten times throughout each summer visit, sure to remind you of the evil that lurked in the streets below. Most summer weeks were spent at the house, but it sure beat Indiana summers back home. Mondays were family nights at home, Tuesdays were beach days, Wednesdays were usually home days too but occasionally sailing on the family boat was allotted. You didn't have a boat back home in Indiana. Daddy's money was steady but not BOAT money steady. Plus it was Indiana- where would the sailing even take place? Lake Michigan?

Thursdays, the cinema would have discount movie matinees. If the film had been pre approved through the other moms in Aunt Shenas crochet circle, then she would take you and Daisy to go see it as a treat. Occasionally, Daisy would ask to use the restroom and you both would sneak into another screen room to peek at the other movies you weren't allowed to see, up until you accidentally snuck into a showing of 'The Evil Dead'. Both you and Daisy had nightmares for weeks and her parents couldn't figure out why, and no shot in hell would either of you admit what happened.

Daisy was fun and secretive like that. You appreciated her ability to lie straight to her parents face. Daisy liked to adventure a little bit more than what her parents would allow. Naturally she became versed in the art of bullshitting her parents.

Daisy was almost like a stranger to her parents. It was sad in a way but mostly just impressive. Daisy would steal cigarettes from her dad and stash them in her pencil case and sell them to the other girls in her church group. She also snuck out regularly, mostly to the local park to meet up with boys from school. She was brave. Real brave. She was cool. Real fucking cool. In fact, she was so cool and so brave, that she got the mastermind plan to steal her fathers Pontiac Firebird while he was away on business and Aunt Shena was knocked unconscious from her qualludes. (But god forbid ibuprofen right?).

"I don't know why I hadn't done this sooner!" Daisy bounced in the drivers seat like a mental patient. The engine cried out aggressively and the whole vehicle roared awake. There’s no way the entire street didn’t hear that. "And you're SURE your mother isn't going to find out? What about your daddy?" You pegged for final assurance from Daisy before becoming an accessory to theft. "Daddy won't ever know. You know why? Cuz' you remember Jeff from my church? He showed me how to roll back the odometer on a car in exchange for...well for never-mind but you don't gotta sweat about a thing Y/N. Now cut the square talk we gotta get to Tower Records before it closes!".

That's another thing Daisy kept secret. Her music. Daisy had a whole stack of vinyl records along with a record player, stashed under her bed. She would purchase raunchy records like Tina Turner and Cheap Trick, and slide them in the back of the more inconspicuous records like Chuck Girard and Bob Dylan. One of Daisy's boyfriends last summer had gifted her an Aerosmith record. Daisy played it for you once and that's how you first learned what rock music was. Some kind of bug bit you then. You itched to hear more, but between the uber cult of Daisy's parents and your own sheltered family back in indiana, who were perpetually trapped in the era of disco music, rock music was hard to come by. Rock music was foreign to you but felt familiar. You'd never felt a craving for sound before hearing it. So when Daisy devised to steal her dads car to go visit Tower Records in the city, you shoved all notion of "evils that lurk below" and the two of you ripped down to the sunset strip.

-

It wasn't that you weren't adventurous too. You could be if you wanted to. You were just too busy to be bothered with mischief like Daisy. While you believed yourself to be an open minded individual, it was clear Aunt Shenas repeated affirmations of danger sat in the back of your mind, welling up further and further to the forefront while the lights of the city glittered closer and closer into view.

"Wow wow wow Y/N...look at it all right? You seein this?" Daisy's eyes glazed over as the neon lights poured over the Pontiac. It was like nothing you had ever seen before. Or her. Daisy had only made it down to the city a handful of times but never at night. Each building had its own neon get up signage. Loads of people strolled the night street. It was busy! Your heart pounded in your chest a little bit. Fear and excitement all in one. You couldn't take your eyes off the passing sceneries. You tried to take it all in. Burger joints you had seen a million commercials for bustled with crews of hot rods parked in the parking lots, engines proudly displayed. Beautiful women leaning into the windows of old rusty cars, hung out on the darker corners in big groups for some reason. Was everyone down here revolting against wearing clothes?

"Tower Records baby!" Daisy sang as she pulled into the parking lot. Huh. It wasn't really a tower like the name had suggested. Rather a dingy stand alone strip mall off the corner of the strip. The disappointing reality shocked you back to your more cautious senses. If anyone finds out we're here we're totally busted.

You stepped out of the car and a wall of hollywoods finest scents burned your nose. The air down here wasn't like the air in the hills. Air can't be so different like that can it? "God I hope they have the new Cyndi Lauper release." Daisy said, pushing into the store door with her back.

The door chirped out a small out of tune "ding!" To notify the staff of the new and completely out of element customers entering. Two scrawny flower fresh girls in inconspicuous uniform-like attire, looking plain and straight as an arrow. The saying "bull in a China shop" but as if curiously reversed "China in a bull shop". Daisy somewhat fit the bill better but you-you did not look hip enough to be in a record store, or the state of California. Even if it was a dingy strip mall. Which made you all the more nervous.

A few other customers sleuthed the aisles, clearly regulars. You tried to stay out of everyone's way while you tried to keep track of Daisy darting into the vinyl labyrinth. You scanned the sea of music. Tracing your fingers along the spines of sleeves. So much rock music! You glanced around to see Daisy already chatting up one of the grungy male employees. Your eyes caught a gorgeous vibrant yellow sleeve and you plucked it out. 'Are you experienced' by Jimi Hendrix.

You'd heard of him you think. Maybe on the news somewhere? He seems like a big rocker name.

You made your way over to the front corner  of the store by the check out where they had open record players where customers could play records and listen to new samples. You held the album in your hands and stared at its dazzling colors. Almost spellbound until;

"Foxey Lady."

The sudden voice snapped you out of your trance and you looked around. Suddenly catching the cashier at the empty register. Did HE say that? To ME? You hesitated to question if he spoke to you. He seemed like the type to cause trouble. Was this a cat call? Is this what cat calling is? One time mother had been cat called in front of a sears and daddy found the man who did it and really gave him a reaming. She warned you about dirty and dangerous men in the streets who call women obscenities for fun. What jerk cat calls a young woman shopping at their own store?

"Excuse me…?" You questioned.

"The record." He pointed to your hands gripping the yellow vinyl.

"Foxey lady. It's the best song on that album." He connected. Your eyes glance back down at the track list and sure enough 'Foxey Lady' was spelled out. Your face suddenly blooms pink in embarrassment as you look back up to him. That's not what you were expecting from this guy.

He leaned his back against the wall behind the counter. It was impossible to tell if he was looking at you because his eyes were protected from a curtain of thick, pretty dark curls and sunglasses….indoors….at night. His arms crossed coolly. He had an aura of mischief about him. He was almost like a ghost. Dressed in all black leather. You'd never seen someone dressed in only black clothes before. Maybe he was a rocker type too.

"Oh..uh….I'll need to give it a listen then." You replied politely and cordially with a nervous smile, averting his face to hide your obvious embarrassment. You became slightly flustered. He didn't drop his attention towards you. You start to fiddle with the record, somehow losing your sense of coordination because you were being watched. Suddenly the record isn't lining up correctly. The lid almost clamps on your hand but something catches it and spares your fingers. You look up again and he's now in front of you, acting like some sort of hero. An intense mixture of tobacco, rubbing alcohol and an almost sweet musk surrounds you. You now see that he is in fact looking at you. You stare at him like a deer in headlights. Stunned, embarrassed and confused at how he managed to sneak his way over to you so quickly. "Here, I'll play it for you." His lips curl up slightly into an almost sickeningly lovely smirk. He places his hand upon yours and kindly removes it out of the way. You step aside and allow him to continue, still stunned and nervous.

Not only had your heart already been on high alert from the firebird thievery, a guy was now in your direct personal space. A potentially dangerous guy. Well no- he wasn't cat calling you after all right? And he just helped you and? He is sort of nicer than you expected. He just seems so...cool?

All up in your personal space. It wasn't like you were a prude! You'd kissed a boy before! Even held hands too. Granted the kiss was on the cheek. But this guy just kind of....took over. His presence was so laid back and yet demanded the attention of the room. It was hard not to want to stare back at him. You wanted to better analyze this predator/prey situation here. If he's so dangerous, why is he being so kind? It took one glance at him up close and you were starting to call bullshit on Aunt Shena's precautions altogether. You'd been in the city for almost an hour and remained entirely unscathed.

Your hand still felt electric from his touch. His eyes only briefly detaching from you to put the record on.

A funky rock ensemble flowed out of the record. The same type of musical pleasure you had heard from the Aerosmith record, revisited your body. A rougher, harder groove than what's on the radio. It was melodic and fierce. The guy redirected himself to you once more. Watching you for your reaction to the song. You nervously nod your head to the beat, meeting his gaze. Once you connect sights, your stomach jumps in a swirl. Butterflies soar in circles inside you. This oddly intimate interaction but you couldn't seem to pull away. Almost spellbound yet again but for an entirely different feeling.

He began mouthing the lyrics, still staring back at you over a sea of tension thick air.

'You know you're a cute little heartbreaker'

Your face is rushing hot. It was almost like he was intentionally singing these words to you.

'And you know you're a sweet little love maker'

He smirked at this one. You turned now what you must have assumed was red with embarrassment. You break your gaze and look down at your shoes and then glance around the shop to locate Daisy. The shop was mainly now empty as the night had grown in. Daisy could still be found giggling away with another boy in the far end of the store. Your heart fluttered rapidly. You suddenly feel the air in front of you grow warmer. Looking back he had stepped closer to you and space between you had shrunk. He continues.

'I wanna take you home-

I won't do you no harm'

He held a smug look on his face as his lips mouthed these totally obscene lyrics to you. Like he knew it was not something you'd ever heard before. Your naïve shock seemed to entertain him.

'You got to be all mine, all mine'

Ooh Foxey Lady.'

"You dig it?" He asked still holding a smirk. "Definitely" You admit all too quickly. He give a slight breathy chuckle. Your sure answer when you had seemed so unsure about everything else til then was cute to him. A gal who was on board for rock n roll was nothing but perfection to him. But you didn't look the part, and that amused him. Your light floral scent drifted sweetly around him, he was unable to ignore you as soon as you had walked in and he had watched your every move. A nervous animal. Timid and clearly not someone he had seen in before. The girls that normally perused Tower Records were hot but they were rough around the edges. You- you were something sweet…something different altogether he thought. You were like a breath of fresh air to him. What's that saying...opposites attract?

"You like it so much you can have it." He said, his voice a lower octave.

"Oh well I was thinking of buying something el-" you started to politely object.

"No. " he laughs at your oblivion. "Just take it. It's yours." He pushes it into your hands. You're a little in shock once more just at the thought of stealing? Twice in one night? You really like the record and you would love to own it...but. You look around nervously.

"Here Foxey, All you." He firmly asserts it into your grasp, lets go and begins to walk back behind his counter.

"Y-you could get into trouble for this you know." You point out with concern for this kind stranger. He waves you off with his hand. "we're closing miss, you'll have to get." busying himself in false cashiering practices he had probably never paid attention to until now. Daisy meets you mid store. She hardly notices the record in your hands or the insane cashier who just let you steal from his store. "I've just met the cutest boy, Y/N! And he’s in his own band! I'll tell you on the way back. “ She giggled. “Let's get sodas maybe too if some where's open." Daisy ushered you to the door, blind in her own personal thrills to notice you looking back over your shoulder to meet the gaze of the cashier once more, who to your delight had removed his sunglasses, already staring back at you, watching you leave. He gave you another sly smile and you returned one of your own, forming some sort of mutual pact of this secret.

Why did he think you would keep this a secret? Why did he trust you like that? You were going to after all, but how did he know?

Doesn’t he care about getting in to trouble?

I HAVE MOVED TO MY MAIN. PLEASE FOLLOW GINSENGKITTEN FOR UPDATES. STORY WILL CONTINUE THERE. <3

[foggynitefic]

Drop Them Bones Chapter 9: Hard and Fast

This one's a doozy...

Hard and Fast

To be sure of, without a doubt, without debate History: In seafaring times, the term ‘hard and fast’ was used to describe a vessel that was beached on land and unable to be moved. [Don’t lie. Absolutely none of us thought it meant that. None of us.]

So, funny thing. Since posting Chapter 8, I had a wonderful long weekend in Manhattan, followed by the worst stomach flu I’ve gotten in at least a decade. Then, after a few weeks recovering from that, I partially dislocated my knee and sprained my MCL. Full damage assessment still TBD in a couple months, but I have a care plan for now.

What I’ve posted as Chapter 9 was supposed to be ten pages max plus additional scenes, and then this happened. So, I have 6k words of Chapter 10 already because I split Chapter 9 in half, and I’ve had the final scene in Chapter 10 (originally intended for Chapter 6, hah!) written for the last three months…

I currently have 9 more chapters planned out, but as this adventure has shown me, that’s more like guidelines. This chapter would have been out sooner, but reference above, and in retrospect, this chapter’s title also describes me in seafaring times right now…

Notes

At least I’m recuperating and back to excessive research spiraling:

If you have the equipment, time, and inclination, you too can om a gator nom. I have only ever outsourced my gator dining experience to trustworthy restaurants, because I’m happy to compensate people accordingly for their labor and gator meat is fucking expensive to have shipped up north.

I’ve mostly encountered alligator fried or in etouffees in restaurants, and if you can’t source alligator or just think they’re too cute to eat (look at them faces!), they do taste like a fishy chicken, but less swampy than frog, and have the consistency of a pork chop. So, imo, you can substitute either white chicken meat or pork to about the same effects in all the recipes except the whole smoked gator. Alligator meat is very lean and easy to dry out, though (flashbacks to straw-like fried, breaded nonsense on that one trip to Florida…) The Daily Beast has an article from 2019 that goes into more detail on taste, etc. I’m not going to link to any of the butchering videos I watched to make this fic, but if you’re interested, deermeatfordinner on Youtube has a good one.

And yes, in true Louisiana fashion, the state government does have an alligator cookbook available in PDF for free. The final page notes that funds for it came from both Florida and Louisiana, and the most approximate publication date I can find for it is 1994. Its text, graphics, and ingredients definitely look like something from the 80s or 90s…

I was not tracking that discarded crocodile and alligator fat can be used to produce biodiesel at competitive prices…

I went down a lot of interesting 1700-1800s sailing history that involved the provisions given per day to British Navy sailors, how much salt was needed to brine 100 lbs of meat, and how the brining process actually worked (floating eggs and meats, oh my!) The average alligator yields about 40 lbs of meat, so all the proportions and weights for applegators came from multiplying that by three, then adding on more layers of fat than an alligator would have because applegators can also go out in the deep sea. Yes, I know this is a fanfic for fantasy pirates on an imaginary planet. If Oda-sensei can say they’re all stronger because gravity, I can make chonky applegators.

Curing meat Wikipedia article; Quora entry (of all things) on sailor provisions; Colonies, Ships and Pirates blog; and an NIH paper with some science of curing meats; plus a definition of pellicle; and some historical pre-refrigeration context.  Salting meat Wikipedia article and smoking meat Wikipedia article. And of course, once the fancy bougie restaurants start using salt water, it’s cool again.

If you don’t have a smoker at home, here’s a stove-top smoked salmon recipe that could work with any type of fish (though, I don’t think a sweet cure would really go with white fish).

How to dehydrate food without a dehydrator ideas

Making a ground oven: I actually learned about this technique back in anthropology of food, as it’s one of the oldest cooking methods that we know of, and I’ve always wanted to try it. Darn you, local fire ordinances.

Random fandom trivia: If you’re a fan of 911 Lone Star, you may remember the first (I think) season episode of a family ground cooking in their backyard and their racist neighbor being a dick about it then getting a righteous comeuppance from the team. Is it over the top justice? Yes. Is the drama hilarious? Also, yes.

They use a technique in this chapter that I based off a New England clambake set up. Mainly, a pit on the beach with seaweed, hot rocks, and a wet sail over top, covered with sand. General bake concepts and times came from here (if you can read it through that horrible font…)

Sustainably harvesting seaweed.  Modern Farmer has a pretty informative newsletter I’ve been subscribed to for a couple years – It’s an interesting read if you’re into agriculture news (food-related technology, regulations, innovations, etc.) and like to know more about your food supply chain.

I didn’t know how to make sausage before. Behold, basic sausage tutorial!

Recipes bludgeoned in the making of this chapter:

I have never cooked gator meat or a whole pig, but here are recipes that sound like horrifying fun:

Whole Smoked Gator

But also, whole pig ground cooked

Kalua Pork  

Alligator Jerky

Songs: