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kaciebello · 3 months ago

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Trust fund babies

Masterlist Money mail ☼ Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff!reader (fem) Summary: Can you belive it? The solution was there all along Warnings: no use of y/n Authors note: I love fun fairs so much it's unreal word count: 1.7k Song: THIRLL RIDE - THE BOYS

The teens were sitting around the denying table in Theodore's house. Looking at the money they have accumulated over the summer. They have gathered all the coins they could find. However, in front of them stood 4k. Exact half of what they needed for the bouncy house. All their effort was wasted, as they had not reached their goal.

“Maybe we can make the other 4k,” Says Matteo, training to be optimistic, but failing miserably.

“Dude, we have two weeks to start of new term. We made 4 thousand in two months. I don't think we can make it.” Blaise argus back. Demoted they all sat and just stared at the money, as if it could multiply. Enzo was carrying the girl back as if trying to comfort her. They all sat in silence for like ten minutes before the girl shot up.

“I know what we can do!” She yells and shoves all the money to her. The boys watch her closely. Sound in their eyes.

“We may not be able to buy a water bouncy house. But I know a place that has water and adrenaline.” She says. A smirk on her face. She runs to get her bag and comes back just as quickly. Digging into it as if trying to find something. Draco sees a little circular motion next to his head, trying to signal to his friends that the girl has gone a little bit crazy.

“AHA!” She cheers and pulls out a brochure. Smiling on the table. The boys finally have a chance to look at it. A fun fair.

“What,” Theodore says, snatching it and looking at it closely.

Theodore squinted at the colourful brochure in his hands, trying to make sense of the girl’s sudden enthusiasm. The glossy images showed roller coasters, spinning teacups, water slides, and neon lights. The words “Summer Fun Fair” were emblazoned across the top in bold, bright letters.

“A fun fair?” Theodore asked, raising an eyebrow. “How’s that supposed to replace a bouncy house?”

The girl grinned, practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s not just any fun fair! This one has everything—water rides, roller coasters, games, even a haunted house! And the best part is, it’s just a few hours away, and with the money we’ve got, we can get passes for all of us. We’ll have way more fun there than with a bouncy house.”

Blaise leaned forward, intrigued but sceptical. “But we spent all summer scraping together that money for the bouncy house. Are we really going to blow it all on a day at a fair?”

“Think about it, Blaise,” the girl said, her eyes shining. “We’ve been stressing about this bouncy house for weeks. But why do we need it? We wanted it because it was something big, something epic we could all do together before the school year started. This fair has everything we need for that. Water, adrenaline, and fun. Plus, it’s not just one thing; it’s a whole day of crazy adventures.”

Enzo, who had been quietly considering the idea, finally spoke up. “She’s got a point. I mean, we’ve already done so much together this summer. Why not end it with something spontaneous? We’ve got the cash, and it’s better than letting it sit around.”

Matteo, who had been the most disappointed earlier, started to brighten up. “And it’s got water rides, you say?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically. “And not just any water rides—giant slides, log flumes, wave pools, you name it. Plus, they’ve got games, food, and all the fair stuff. It’s perfect.”

Theodore, still holding the brochure, looked at his friends. He could see the excitement building in their faces, the idea of a spontaneous trip to the fair starting to take hold. Finally, he sighed and put the brochure back on the table. “Alright, I’m in. It does sound like fun. And maybe we can win some cool prizes while we’re at it.”

Draco, who had been leaning back in his chair with a smirk, finally spoke. “Sounds better than staring at money all day. I say we go for it.”

Blaise looked around the table at his friends, seeing the shift in their attitudes. He cracked a smile. “Alright, let’s do it. But we’re going to make the most of it. No holding back.”

The girl clapped her hands in excitement. “Yes! This is going to be epic! We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning and spend the whole day there.”

The room buzzed with energy as the teens started making plans, their earlier disappointment forgotten. The idea of the bouncy house had been fun, but this—this was going to be an adventure they wouldn’t forget.

The next morning, the group gathered at Theodore’s house, buzzing with excitement. The girl had packed snacks, water bottles, and sunscreen into her bag, ready for the long day ahead. Matteo showed up with a huge grin, carrying a cooler filled with drinks. Draco, as always, looked effortlessly cool in sunglasses, while Enzo and Blaise were busy discussing the best rides to hit first.

“Everyone ready?” the girl asked, adjusting the straps of her bag. She was in charge of the money and made sure to enchant a secret pocket in her bag that held all of it.

The boys nodded, their energy infectious. Theodore pulled out his car keys and jingled them. “The car’s gassed up, and I’ve got the directions. It’s about a two-hour drive, so if anyone needs to use the bathroom, now’s the time.”

“Can't we just apparate?” Draco asks, not very fond of the idea of a car.

“ Wheres the fun in that,” Theodore smirks much to Draco's dismay.

They all piled into Theodore’s car, squishing together with bags and coolers crammed in the trunk. The ride was filled with chatter, music blaring from the speakers, and the occasional off-key singalong, mostly from Mattheo. The excitement in the air was palpable, their earlier disappointment replaced with anticipation.

As they approached the fairgrounds, the first thing they noticed was the massive Ferris wheel towering over the horizon, its lights twinkling even in the daylight. The fair was already bustling with activity, colourful tents and banners stretching out as far as they could see.

“Whoa,” Matteo breathed out, leaning forward to get a better look. “This place is huge!”

Theodore parked the car, and they all tumbled out, eager to get started. The girl led the way, practically skipping toward the entrance as they handed over their tickets.

Inside, the fair was even more impressive. The air was filled with the scent of popcorn, cotton candy, and fried dough. Laughter and screams echoed from the rides, and the vibrant colours of the games and attractions seemed to pulse with energy.

“Alright, where to first?” Blaise asked, looking around with wide eyes.

“There,” the girl said, pointing to a massive water slide that twisted and turned before ending in a giant splash. “We start with the water rides and then hit the coasters. That way we can dry faster.”

“Let’s do it!” Enzo cheered, grabbing her hand and leading the charge.

They spent the first hour soaking themselves on the water rides, laughing as they splashed down into cool pools of water. After the water rides, they moved on to the roller coasters. The thrill of the loops, drops, and high speeds had them all screaming in exhilaration. Theodore screamed like a girl when he was caught off guard by a sudden sharp turn and ended up gripping the safety bar for dear life, much to the others’ amusement. He claims it everyone heard wrong, and it was Draco who let out the scream.

The day passed in a blur of adrenaline, laughter, and good-natured teasing. They played games, won stuffed animals and silly prizes, and stuffed themselves with fair food until they could hardly move. As the sun began to set, the fairgrounds were illuminated with a sea of neon lights, giving the place a magical glow.

By the time they reached the Ferris wheel, the group was exhausted but happy. They climbed into the seats, three on each side, and the wheel slowly lifted them into the air. From the top, they could see the entire fair, the lights twinkling below like stars.

“This turned out better than I thought,” Theodore admitted, leaning back against the seat, a rare smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Blaise agreed, looking out at the view. “Way better than a bouncy house.”

The girl, sitting beside Enzo, looked around at her friends, her heart swelling with contentment. “I told you it would be worth it.”

As the Ferris wheel slowly descended, the group fell into a comfortable silence, each of them savouring the moment. They might not have gotten the bouncy house they’d worked so hard for, but what they’d gained was something much better��an unforgettable adventure, shared with the best friends they could ask for.

As the night came to a close, they all knew that this summer, despite its ups and downs, would be one they’d always remember.

—

Two weeks later all the Slytherins were sitting in the train at their designated space. Hogwarts Express was as crowded as always. New years were walking up and down, trying to find a place to sit. Pansy stopped by and asked them about their summer, before any of them could answer she went on to tell them how she spent hers lounging on some remote island her parents own. Luna has stopped by as well to say hi to Blaise before bouncing off to a different adventure.

Mattheo spots the girl first. Raised eyebrows. None of them expects to see her until Hogwarts, lets her catch up with all her other friends and fellow Hufflepuff. Angry expression on her face, she stops before them and leans on the table.

“ Hello, love.” Enzo sounds, not moved by her face, still gazing up at her lovingly.

“Did you know.” she starts, making her they were listening to her closely. “I have talked to Hermoniey.”

“Why would you do that?”

“ Shut up”

“Okay”

Glaring at all of them, as if whatever she was about to tell them was their fault.

“Did you know, that you can, in fact, exchange galleons for pounds?” The show has appeared on their faces. Disbelief. Sighs of anger and disappointment. Enzo scooches over so the girl can sit down. Squishing Draco to the window a little bit

“So we could-”

“Yep”

“damn,” Silence falls upon the group. all the them complementing life. Empty stares on their faces. It was like the world died. Until Mattheo speaks up.

“At least we have Betsy.” He says and pulls out a Chinese takeout container. Opening it, inside is a small cow ready to be sneaked into Hogwarts.

Previous Chapter

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writteninlunarlight-years · 4 months ago

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hi so I was wondering what do you think about Hazbin hotel vox, luci, and Adam with a pinkie pie like reader like they are super cheerful, loves making people laugh, loves planning parties, takes a confetti cannon with them maybe even have the pinkie pie abilities like pulling huge cakes out of no where, do things that should not be scientifically possible and even break the 4th wall like pinkie pie does on the show

Just thought I’d ask thank you love you work and stay safe out there

Vox

He was very put off by your overly pleasant and bright personality. I mean, come on, he works with the infamous Vee's, and you just walk in all chipper and cheerful and so ungodly neon that you look like a florescent light.

As you became a staple in Vee's club, he enjoyed watching you work well with Velvette and Valentino. You may not be their exact cup of tea either, but you managed to help them execute some of their more outlandish ideas.

When he noticed he was developing more significant feelings for you, he locked himself away from you, yet that hurt both of you far more than he cared to admit.

Bucking up the courage to ask you out, he was pleasantly surprised and mildly embarrassed that you made an 'asking you out party.' He said yes, but he asked never to have something like that done again.

He never dulls your sparkle; instead, he likes to enhance it and loves putting you in front of a camera if you allow him. You radiate so much positivity and joy that he can't help but smile and laugh.

If he has a terrible day against Al or, in general, he loves coming home to you. I stand by the fact that this man is stuck in his ways from the 50s, and a pretty thing with a big smile waiting for him at home makes him soar.

Lucifer

When you came into his life, he was ecstatic. He was very sure he had found his daughter a new best friend. He wanted to say that he had helped Charlie, which was his biggest goal.

Yet you also managed to help him out a lot with your positivity and assistance in branching out and experiencing more life than just his room. You even expressed an interest in his ducks and helped him learn how to sell them.

What was supposed to be a new friend for Charlie slowly morphed into a new mother figure for Charlie as your bright, outlandish ideas were easily molded and crafted to better the young girl and guide her in her endeavors.

As Lucifer noticed his growing feelings, he became a stuttering and bashful mess, leading to Charlie taking the lead and pushing him towards you. She really thought you would be a great addition to the family.

Once you two started dating, Lucifer took his kingly duties much more to heart. He worked hard, day in and day out, to be a positive influence on his people and promote redemption.

If he has a bad day, you being there with a good idea or a new idea for a duck always puts a smile on his face. After you two get done tinkering with whatever you two thought of, cuddles are a great way to end the day.

Adam

He thought you were like every other bitch he met in heaven. You were overly optimistic and wanted to hang with the first man. Yeah, right; what ulterior motive did you have.

Yet, as he saw you having fun with Lute, Emily, and some other close friends, he realized that maybe you weren't after a title but just a happy person.

It was a whirlwind of change when he allowed you into his personal life. You managed to make his home and office more alive and himself more alive.

You were so positive and full of ideas that he saw a lot of Eve in you, making it hard for him to fully let you into his heart, even if he slowly fell head over heels in love with you.

After a swift kick in the ass from Lute and you welcoming Adam into your heart, arms open wide, he admitted his feelings and deep love for your over-joyous personality.

If he has a bad day, he always knows he can look forward to finding you nearby with a smile on your face and a positive solution to fix the mess that he made.

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bradshawssugarbaby · 10 months ago

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Neon Moon - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: You're drowning your sorrows after calling off your engagement on Valentine's Day in a Mexican restaurant in San Diego. Alongside you, Bradley Bradshaw sits at the bar, going through a similar situation.

A/N: my first attempt at writing something a little angsty, I’m not overly confident in it but I was drunk on strawberry margaritas in San Diego last night after spending the day in Coronado so here we are. Also definitely inspired by my own past relationship 🌚 And inspired by Neon Moon by Brooks and Dunn. Also sorry for the whacky spacing because I’m posting from my phone! - not beta read or proofread bc I live life in the danger zone.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x f!reader

warnings/content: cheating (not Bradley or reader), failed engagements/breakups, mentions of divorce, drinking, angsty-ish with a happier ending.

word count: 3.5K

read the rest of my What’s Your Country Song mixtape series! 🩷

if you lose your one and only, there’s always room here for the lonely, so watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

You sat at the bar, sighing heavily as you snacked on the free, fresh tortilla chips and salsa, nursing your pink margarita, the notes of strawberry and tequila doing everything in its power to alleviate the pain of your latest breakup. You know alcohol isn’t a miracle worker, but by God, at this point you’re beginning to wonder. Your ex-fiancé just called off your wedding, and left you wondering why on earth you ever agreed to move thousands of miles from home to San Diego for a man who barely had his shit together.

You fiddled with the straw in your glass, sipping the strawberry-laden drink back, the tequila burning your throat slightly as it went down. It was getting late in the evening, but you were willing to stay here a couple more hours until closing just to get the most amount of time away from your apartment as you could. You knew you’d have to face the inevitable, but you dreaded it. How could you not? How could anyone in their right mind choose to haul their ass back to the apartment their ex just called off their wedding ceremony in, where the person they’d loved just confessed they didn’t share that feeling that was supposedly mutual, that they’d grown weary of the marriage ideal that they’d proposed to you.

Your bartender shot you a sympathetic look when you walked in that night, sensing that you weren’t here celebrating Valentine’s Day like most of the patrons around you. He slid you a basket of fresh, warm, homemade tortilla chips and a cup of the restaurant’s in-house salsa, alongside a drink menu with an encouraging nod. You appreciated the kindness towards you, even if it was just out of pity. As the bar side became less busy as the night went on, he asked how you were doing, if you needed anything else, if you wanted to order a meal. You hemmed and hawed over whether or not authentic Mexicali food was the solution to all of your problems when the seat to your right suddenly gained a patron - a single patron who looked just as downtrodden, if not more so, than you.

“Bradley!” The bartender said cheerfully, a hearty smile on the man’s face as he grabbed a pint glass, “Your usual, my friend?”

“Please, and just keep ‘em comin’, man,” said the voice beside you.

Bradley was a tall man, with a neatly trimmed mass of warm, golden-brown waves on top of his head, sun kissed skin and a pair of aviator sunglasses resting on the collar of his white t-shirt. Over the white undershirt, sat the loudest printed Hawaiian shirt you’d ever laid your eyes on - a bubblegum pink coloured background with an assortment of bright white, black and deep orangey-red palm leaves adorning it. A few faded scars scattered the side of his face, barely noticeable unless he tilted his head just so in the warm yellow-hued lights overhead. His fuller lips were resting in an emotionless line, a trimmed and styled mustache, straight out of an 80’s movie resting over the top of his lip.

As Bradley and the bartender, whose name you’d now forgotten after your second margarita, not that it was ever going to stick in your mind in the first place - you were stressing over how to tell 150 guests that a wedding was no longer taking place simply because the man who asked you had decided he no longer loved you, and despite having felt that way for quite some time, opted to tell you three months before your big day, after a majority of things were paid for, almost all of which non-refundable, meaning you’d be enjoying a wedding cake for 150 people at a venue by yourself, celebrating some other occasion in a couple of months.

You couldn’t help but overhear the bartender give Bradley the same words of encouragement as he’d given you - reminding you both that “que sera sera, whatever will be will be”, a direct quote from an old Doris Day song that you recognized from the times your grandmother made you watch her collection of Alfred Hitchcock VHS tapes, along with all the other classic movies you were subjected to. Bradley offered a weak smile, nodding his head along to the advice.

“I don’t know, man, she definitely isn’t coming back. I don’t think I want her to either. Came home from three months away to get told she was off base and in Coronado for the day, I decided to surprise her and find her having a lunch date with some lower-ranking officer.”

“That’s harsh, brother,” the bartender nods sympathetically before his brown eyes light up, as if Bradley’s cheating significant other has inspired him in some way.

“Actually, my friend, the lovely senorita on your left side has something in common with you,” he explained as he shot you a grin before nodding his head, “My friend Bradley here was married. You both are nursing the same pain tonight. Might not be a bad idea for you two to nurse that pain together, especially since we close in an hour.”

Bradley’s face flushed to a pinkish hue as he shot his friend a glare before turning to you with an apologetic, half-hearted smile.

“No offense, I’m sure you’re great, I just…caught my wife out with another officer over the bridge at Coronado and I really don’t know if drinking with another girl is the right thing to do.”

“Understood, my fiancé just called off our wedding because he decided three months before was a good time to tell me he’d fallen out of love with me nine months ago and no longer wanted to go through with it.”

“Ah, maybe Angel over here is on to something then,” Bradley let out a melancholic chuckle as he took a sip of his beer, the amber coloured liquid sliding past his lips, the froth at the top brushing against the edge of his mustache.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” you nodded, suddenly thankful as you realized if your ex hadn’t broken things off now, you could have easily wound up in the same position as Bradley is now in a few years.

“It’s alright, had a feelin’ she wasn’t really loving the military spouse life as much as she let on, but didn’t think that meant she’d find a different serviceman to try it on with while I was gone and stationed in the middle of the Pacific.”

“Jesus, that’s rough, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, not your fault. I’m Bradley, by the way. Normally I’d do the whole formal military introduction but…just Bradley is fine tonight. I kinda need a break from that for a minute.”

“Understood.”

You nodded again before giving him your name. An awkward silence fell over you both before you looked out towards the patio, the lights along the pier illuminating the San Diego Bay as you looked across to Coronado.

“That’s where I’m stationed,” Bradley nodded his head towards the island across the bay as he took another sip of his beer, “North Island.”

“You’re an aviator?”

“TOPGUN graduated, been flyin’ for just over 20 years now.”

“20 years?”

“Yeah,” Bradley blushed, nodding his head, “I’m 40 in June. I get told I look about 10 years younger than that. A lot. Especially by other guys over there. The one guy in my detachment’s about 5 years younger than me and everyone says he looks closer to my age than I do. Not as a dig to Hangman or nothin’, just as an observation that I kinda look fresh to the Navy, you know?”

“Hangman…?” You raised your eyebrow quizzically at the name he just called his friend, almost concerned about his parents' life choices.

“Real name’s Jake. Everyone calls us using callsigns over there - his is Hangman, but if we wanna piss him off, he’s Bagman. I’m Rooster. One guy’s just Bob, one girl’s Phoenix, another girl’s Halo, then there’s Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, Harvard and Yale, Fritz, my dad’s Navy buddy is Maverick, our Air Boss is Cyclone, it goes on.”

“Why is your callsign Rooster?”

“Eh, my dad’s sign was Goose. They asked me to pick one and I wanted to honor him, but I couldn't use the same one I figured, so I went for the first bird I could think of. They were gonna call me Boomer because I’m loud as fuck half the time, but I guess I have a bit of a reputation for waiting until the moment’s right to take action. One guy said that I sorta sit perched like a rooster waiting for the sun to rise, and it stuck more than Boomer did.”

“Gotcha. Are you from San Diego?”

“Sorta. I was born here, my dad was stationed up at Miramar which is on the other side from Coronado, but then he died when I was two in a training accident, my mom moved me back to where she was from in Virginia, it’s where she met my dad, actually. He was from Virginia but like, closer to the D.C. area, my mom was from Richmond. Then I grew up there, went to UVA, and got stationed at Virginia Beach, went to TOPGUN in Nevada and then got sent back to Virginia, then from there got called to North Island.”

“So you’ve lived in a few states then. I moved out here from New York a couple years ago. My ex is from La Jolla, came to New York for university, met me, got a job in the city, then got an offer to work here, and came back, took me with him.”

“So your family’s all back in New York?”

“Yeah, bit far, like a 6 hour flight home.”

“Jesus, I may not have much for family, but at least I know I’ve got my squad to kinda support me. And I’ve got Maverick, who’s like a second dad to me.”

“I’m still debating what to do - do I stay in San Diego and just make this my home now, or do I go back to Manhattan with my tail between my legs so to speak and move back in with my parents?”

Bradley nodded his head solemnly before letting out a sharp exhale, a smile forming on his face as he looked out at the bay and then back at you.

“Whatdya say we go for a walk? Catch some fresh air? Maybe we can help each other figure out our next moves so poor Angel here can close up for the night.”

Bradley must have sensed some apprehension in your gaze, because almost seconds after speaking, he held his hands up innocently and laughed.

“I promise I’m not suggesting this out of an ulterior motive. Just suggesting it as a guy who’s sorta in the same boat as you and could use some company.”

You looked at your watch and shrugged your shoulders. You certainly didn’t want to head home any time soon, and Bradley seemed genuine enough, plus, it was nice having someone who understood what you were going through, even if it meant both of you now had to completely reevaluate your lives. You set your credit card down on the table for Angel to ring up your bill, but before he could take it, Bradley shook his head and handed it back to you.

“It’s on me.”

“I can’t let you pay for my drinks, but thank you.”

“Listen, it was money that was gonna be spent on my wife for a Valentine’s Day dinner anyway. Least I can do is pay for your two…pink…whatever those are.”

“Strawberry margaritas.”

“Right, yeah, those. Pink tequila with fruit.”

He smirked as he closed out the tab for both of you before hopping off his barstool. He politely offered his arm out to you as you stood to your feet. Angel shot you both a knowing grin, waving you and his friend off as you headed out. The air on the pier was mild, a soft breeze blowing in off the water of the bay. As you headed down the street together, chatting about life and what you did for a living, Bradley’s rank in the Navy, his favorite sports, your favorite movies, you almost forgot about your ex and the breakup you’d been trying to numb with fruity heartache medication moments ago.

As it turned out, you and Bradley shared a fond love of baseball and romantic comedies, you’d both grown up watching classic movies with your grandmothers, both had a fondness for old music - Elvis, The Beach Boys, Jerry Lee Lewis, Neil Sedaka - it turned out that for two strangers with a 12 year age gap, you had much more in common than you could have expected. In fact, you’d actually argue that you and Bradley had more shared interests than you and your ex had.

As you both wandered up the street towards Seaport Village, the bayside shopping district set up alongside one of the piers, you basked in the glow of the streetlights over head, taking the time to appreciate the calmness of the bay, the sights and sounds of the water as it took your focus off the happy, lovestruck couples that walked around past you all.

The moon hung low in the sky overhead, glowing against the deep blackish-blue backdrop of the night sky, appearing to have a neon glow behind it. Bradley looked up at the sky, letting out a loud, exhaled breath as he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna head back to base and deal with the mess waiting for me there. Never thought I’d be filing divorce papers on Valentine’s Day, you know?”

“I have to call 150 guests and tell them that the wedding scheduled for May isn’t taking place but they can still come eat the cake that we paid for at the venue that I can’t get the 50% deposit back for.”

Bradley laughed softly, although the laugh wasn’t one of happiness - more one of pity for the two of you over your situations, and how neither of you wanted to go home because it would mean taking action with the hands you were dealt, no matter how unfair they were.

“Fuck, how’d we end up in this mess? I guess I should be thankful that she and I never had kids then, right?”

He laughed again, a dry, hollow laugh at his situation. “I wanted them, she didn’t. I just figured in my late thirties that it wasn’t really an issue worth pushing and it was probably best if I didn’t.”

“My dad was 44 when I was born, I never thought it was weird, if that helps.”

“Hey, means I’ve got 4 years, right? Can’t really adopt a kid when you’re in the Navy though, with not being home a lot and all that, and I don’t know if I see myself remarrying or anything. Besides, I feel like it’s asking a lot of a woman to settle down with me then have her waiting at home alone most of the time, or alone with our kids, if we have ‘em. Seems a bit unfair. I guess I could retire but, I don’t know if I’m ready for that either, you know?”

“You just have to find someone who wants to wait for you. You know, someone who doesn’t mind being a military spouse.”

“Good luck with that,” He said with a dry chuckle again, “I wouldn’t wanna be one if the shoe was on the other foot, it’s a lot of me to ask someone else to do it.”

“Well, I’m not suggesting you ask a random girl on the street to marry you, Bradley, I meant like, date, get to know the woman, find out from there if she’s cool with it.”

“I guess so,” He sighed heavily as he looked up at the moon, “You know, always thought I’d have a marriage like my parents did. I know my dad died before I was really old enough to remember, but I see pictures and you just…you knew they were crazy about each other. Maverick always said they flirted like they were a couple’a teenagers on their first date all the time.”

“Bradley, do you wanna come grab a coffee with me?”

“Coffee? It’s like nine at night.”

“Yeah, I could use some sobering up though.”

“Ah, what the hell. I don’t have to be anywhere.”

Bradley gestured in front of him, allowing you to lead the way. As you began to walk on the outside of the sidewalk, he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your shoulder to guide you to the inside.

“Sorry, force of habit. My mom always said not to let a lady walk on the outside of the sidewalk. She said my dad never let her risk getting splashed by a puddle when they walked down the street. Sorta trained it into me by the time I was 10. Maverick and my grandma both agreed. Think it’s an old Southern thing.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind it,” you smiled softly at him, rolling your shoulders into a subtle shrug.

Bradley smiled at you, a genuine, proper smile. His previously stoic and reserved look had melted away momentarily, deep dimples forming either side of his mouth. Bradley’s caramel coloured eyes seemed to glisten as the moonlight caught them, amber flecks sparkling before he shook his head, an awkward chuckle escaping his parted lips.

“You know, I gotta thank you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You helped me forget temporarily about what I have to do tonight when I get home.”

“I guess I should thank you for the same thing.”

“I haven’t felt this at ease in…a really long time. I guess I always kinda suspected she was cheating, but I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, no one wants to think that way about someone they love, right?”

“No, no, I get it. I sorta knew my ex wasn’t feeling the same way. I just told myself I was overthinking it. He never said anything until today.”

“He told you today that he didn’t love you anymore? Today of all the days?!”

“Yeah, came home from a half day at work to spend the afternoon with him, just to come home to him doing the classic “We need to talk” line.”

Bradley hummed slowly and shook his head. He ran a finger through his caramel toned waves and sighed, trying to think of what the right thing to say in response would be.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Bradley silently opens the door to the coffee shop for you, once again gesturing for you to go first. You can’t help but admire the way everything he does seems like something out of a movie set in the 1950s - his mannerisms, the slight lilt to his voice, the way he holds doors open, offers you his arm, insists on walking on the outside of the sidewalk - all for a woman he’s only just met. It’s likely sympathetic actions towards you - feeling bad that you’re in a situation similar to his own, at least, that’s what you’re going to tell yourself.

“Pick your poison, I owe you one for the margaritas.”

“Nah, I’ll pick up this one. Like I said, it was set aside for a nice romantic Valentine’s dinner. I got it.”

“You know, under any other circumstances, this would have made for a cute date spot.”

“Margaritas and coffee?”

“I meant a nighttime stroll along the pier to a coffee shop, but now that you mention it, margaritas and coffee are one way to do it.”

“Hey, I mean, maybe this isn’t a date, I don’t think either of us are ready for that, but, it’s a nice first time hanging out.”

“Maybe the next time we hangout we can do it under less…distressing circumstances?”

“Maybe next time we hangout I can take you out for that nice dinner you and I both were expecting to have tonight,” Bradley shrugged as he sipped his coffee. “You know, as friends, or whatever.”

“You know what, I may take you up on that. You know, as friends…or whatever.”

Bradley slid his phone across the table to you, having opened it to the new contact screen. You quickly typed in your contact details, smiling fondly as you handed it back to him, along with your own phone.

“Next time you venture across the bridge, maybe text me? We can go for a coffee or something, or catch a ball game when the season starts.”

“I’d like that,” Bradley said with a satisfied smile as he sipped his drink.

“But this time, I’m buying.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster fanfiction #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick imagine

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lunareiitic · 8 months ago

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HSR 2.1 SPOILERS AHEAD BE WARNED.

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Okay now that everyone who hasn't caught up has left: let's talk framing of the IPC.

When Topaz released, a lot of you were ragebaiting and telling people you hoped their jobs exploited them when people were like "oh I like her as character." Notably, I personally haven't seen that kind of ragebaiting with Aventurine's backstory and the answer isn't just misogyny, but it is related to how little some of you pay attention.

Topaz and Aventurine are peers, and are clearly juxtaposed as two sides of the same coin. While Aventurine was a literal slave, his people wiped out Aventurine eventually gambling his way into the IPC to become a Stoneheart, his backstory doesn't actually differ that much from Topaz's. Remember: both of these characters are antagonists to our Crew when the audience learns their histories.

Topaz lost everything to the IPC. She's a kind of scary career woman nowadays, but you have to remember that her world was on the brink of collapse and her world's leaders sold their entire population to the IPC. While Topaz may come across as more well adjusted than Aventurine is, the IPC's main strategy is putting their victims in a position where they can't reasonably refuse. It's why Aventurine is such a good lapdog of theirs: since he's willing to bet everything in order to win. He's adept at playing desperate and risky. A lot of discussion of Topaz's character misses this coercion aspect of her backstory because of how it's framed.

The Topaz Interlude is less focused on Topaz herself and more on showcasing the dark side of the IPC. Topaz herself is put in a murky light: friend, foe, and unlikely ally all in one. Her arc in that interlude puts the theme in neon lights "IPC bad, they're solutions aren't necessary if people work together" and Topaz as the "villain" is then "Defeated" and she withdraws and takes the L, leading to her arrival in 2.1 alongside Jade for Aventurine's plan.

Arguably, Aventurine is worse than Topaz in a lot of day-to-day regards: he doesn't have Topaz's sense of compassion and desperate desire to do good, he's openly lying to the cast and doesn't care particularly about their safety, and is actively trying to put Penacony back in the hands of the IPC so they can turn it back into an interstellar prison. (We don't have time to explain why Prisons Are Bad. Go listen to Angela Davis and get back here.) His goals don't feel as evil because of several factors: the first being that HSR knows he has a tragic backstory and is milking it for all that it's worth. Dead parents? Dead sister? Dead culture? Enslavement leading to indentured servitude leading to a deathwish? They give him the game's first perspective shift so you're even more willing to empathize and sympathize with him and his plight, something they'd never do for Topaz, a character whose morality is considerably more conflicted and put on the spot.

Penacony is also a much darker locale than Belobog: when Topaz arrives on Jarilo-VI, we've already solved all of their conflicts (theoretically. we're trusting that bronya can fix all of the shit her mother wrecked), so Topaz arriving is a unifying force of characters we already know an like. Penacony is a lot darker, and you're already primed to distrust and dislike them since they're well. The Family. People who might be just as bad as the IPC. This creates a weird moral flip in the eyes of the audience if you're not paying enough attention: the plot isn't "Penacony bad, therefore IPC good now" it's pretty clearly "Penacony bad, IPC possibly even worse" and the fact that Aventurine has set them up to win should send shivers up the spines of the viewers. Does the Dreamscape deserve to exist? If the IPC gets their way, it won't matter what the answer is. And Aventurine has gone all in to make sure it's so.

#hsr #aventurine #ipc #topaz #you can totally say that topaz didn't get any fo this but aven did because he's a man btw. but I'm showcasing the story structures they use #to get you to that point: which if Topaz had gotten as well she'd be a considerably more sympathetic character and fan reaction-#-might have been less extreme

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tofics · 7 months ago

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Out Of This World

Chapter 3

Masterlist

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x fem!Reader x Dean Winchester

Summary: You and the Mikaelsons are fighting a powerful witch that’s trying to take over New Orleans. The only solution: banishment to another universe. However, the spell goes… wrong, and it’s not the witch that ends up in another universe, but you. - At the same time, over a thousand miles away in a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, an alarm goes off: a rift has opened up. The Winchesters and their angel partners in crime decide to investigate. What will they find when they get to New Orleans?

Word count: 4201

Warnings: cursing, allusions of a panic attack.

Previously: The fact that the call went through and it rang almost made you cry with relief. Finally, you thought and impatiently shifted your weight from one foot to the other and back. "Come on, pick up, pick up pick up pick up," you urged Rebekah on as it rang twice, three times, four times, but no one answered. Then you were connected to her mailbox. "This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency, leave a message." You stared at your display. You'd clearly dialed Rebekah's number. "Who the hell is Dean Winchester?," you muttered to yourself.

A gentle breeze fluttered through the curtains of your bedroom windows. Warm sunlight trickled through the half closed blinds and danced around the room, broken into colorful spots by the rainbow suncatcher that dangled from the curtain rod. Together with the birdsongs outside, the tinkling of the glass pieces mixed into a dulcet, almost narcotic ambiance.

You kept wafting in and out of a blissful sleep. In the moments that you were more alert you could register the sensation of tender strokes over the top of your hair, fingers trickling down your shoulders and over your back, drawing circles over your bare skin.

There was nowhere you felt safer, nowhere you felt calmer than right here. Your head resting in the shallow hollow right below his ribs, an arm thrown lazily across his abdomen while the other one was tucked neatly underneath you.

"I love you." You heard his murmur as much as you felt it in the vibration of his chest. Your lips curled into a sleepy smile as you felt a kiss on the top of your head. His fingers continued to dance across your back in soft strokes and you found yourself dozing off again when his hand travelled to your shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Time to wake up!" Your response came in the form of an uncompliant noise. If it was up to you, you'd continue to stay in bed like this until noon at least. Maybe the whole day. You willed his hand to drift back to your spine, but instead, there was another squeeze on your shoulder, this one more urgent. You shook your shoulder as if to rid yourself of his hand and wiggled your back, a wordless hint to resume his activity from just a few seconds ago. Just a second later though, his fingers dug into your shoulder harshly. The resulting pain that shot down your arm and into your neck made you jump up.

"Elijah, what the fuck!" you exclaimed as you spun to face him, but when you turned around, your stomach dropped. It wasn't Elijah you were facing, but Athea. Her face was ashen, her eyes shot red, her lips blue and purple. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth as her lips drew into a devilish grin. "I said time to wake UP!"

You shot up from where you'd been laying asleep just a second ago with a loud gasp. Your heart was racing in your chest as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Shabby, flowery wallpaper, littered with cracks and peeling off the walls in more places than it stuck to. A car horn blared somewhere outside. The neon sign that announced open vacancies to the freeway nearby flickered a couple of times, then resumed shining, drenching your room in its orange light. Every surface that held a little bit of color in the day was now rendered black and white with a tinge of orange. It looked like someone had used a sepia filter on the place, resulting in a surreal atmosphere.

You threw your covers to the side in an attempt to rid yourself of the fabric that was somehow both too warm and cold at the same time. On top of being itchy, your blanket was now damp with sweat. You scrambled out of bed and stumbled over to the sink in the corner where you splashed your face with cold water a couple of times. Your heart was still hammering in your chest when you glanced in the tarnished mirror.

Your dream had rattled you. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been as big of a deal. But with the previous day's events, a fly bumping against the window could have set you off. You were on edge, restless, homeless, alone. You had no harbor, no safe space, no safety net to fall back on. Any other night, Elijah would have pulled you close into the comfort of his arms and whispered soothing words into your ear until you had fallen back asleep. Now, his lack of presence felt palpable.

You shuffled back to the bed and slumped down onto the lumpy mattress. The floor beneath your feet was wilted, the linoleum all scratched up and blotchy. It went hand-in-hand with the derelict state of the walls. What had once been a colorful - mind you, not necessarily tasteful - scene was now nothing more but a testament to the vast sea of sad stories this place had witnessed over the years. Whoever took shelter here didn't do so out of choice, but necessity. Just like you had.

You had arrived in this version of the world with only a few dollars in your pocket. There had never really been a reason for you to keep a lot of cash on hand - being part of the Mikaelson family had many perks, obscene wealth being one of them. Most of the people you interacted with knew your status, and, more importantly, your boyfriend. Dating Elijah meant that even if you were out of cash or a credit card, you could open a tab on the Mikaelson name. Here, however... What you had brought with you into this world was just about enough to cover the bill for one night's stay.

One more thing to be added to your list of 'problems that need fixing right away', although shelter and food would probably rise to the top of that list rather soon, surpassing 'find a way home to my original universe' very quickly. The latter alone came with a multitude of problems on its own. Where would you find someone to do the spell for you? Where would you get the ingredients? Or the spell itself?! It was like you were fighting a Hydra. With each question, two more appeared, and while it left you with thrice the amount of questions, not a single solution presented itself. It was simply overwhelming. You rolled over to the side and dug your fists into your hair. It was a pitiful image, the way you were huddled into fetal position. Thick strands of hair bundled up in your fists, tugging and pulling on your skull as if, with enough force, you could not only pluck out your hair, but your thoughts too.

For the second time today, you let the tears come, willing them to lull you to sleep.

"And for you, sugar?" The waitress beamed at Dean, the glint in her eyes hinting at the willingness to serve more than what could be ordered off the menu; a phone number perhaps. She was cute too, what with her apron accentuating her hips in a way that was sure to bring in a good amount of tips and long, blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail that swayed behind her when she walked. Her nametag read 'Candice'. Usually, Dean would have gone for her, if it hadn't been for the hours long drive and awfully short night he'd had.

"Coffee and waffles, please," he replied in a gruff tone. A bit too harsh, but it had been a very short night and it was very early. There was a brief hint of disappointment in Candice's eyes, but she quickly recovered and wrote his order down on her notepad. "Comin' right up!" Candice turned on her heels and hopped away. 'There's way too much pep in that girl's step at this hour,' Dean thought to himself and rubbed his face.

"I talked to Sam before you woke up. He said him and Jack were able to trace the rift to a radius of roughly 50 yards." Cas laid a map out on the table of the diner and tapped on a location. "This is where the signal emanated from." "Did they get any sleep at all?" Dean leaned forward and inspected the street map. The spot Cas was pointing at wasn't too far off from where they were at. "You know Jack doesn't sleep." Dean rolled his eyes and fished for a pen in his pocket. "I meant Sammy." After a quick consult of the map's scale, he laid his index finger and thumb down on the map over the spot Cas had pointed at. "I imagine he got as much sleep as you did." Cas replied as Dean drew a circle around the mentioned area. "Hmm." Candice returned with a cup of steaming coffee and a chamomile tea for Cas. Dean thanked her as she served their drinks which earned him a wink before she skipped off again to greet a new customer that had just come in. "Chamomile tea? Really?" He raised a brow at Cas. "Yes, Dean, chamomile tea. It's supposed to have calming effects." The angel replied before he blew on his tea. A quick smile played around Dean's lips. It had been many years since he'd first met Castiel - he'd come such a long way since then. Sitting in a diner, blowing on his tea before occasionally taking a sip - a far cry from the once awkward, so-far-from-human kind of behavior he'd once exhibited. "And that works on angels too?" Cas gave him a glare. "It's about the principle." Dean chuckled and took a sip of his own cup. Not bad for diner coffee. "If you say so. What do you need calming for anyway? Nervous about what we're gonna find?" "Aren't you?" Dean only shrugged. "It's been almost a day since that rift opened. So far, there's no screaming, no reports, nothing. I guess whatever came through can't be too bad."

The smell of greasy breakfast foods seeped into your nose as you walked up to the counter. Despite your hunger - you hadn't really eaten anything in almost 24 hours if you didn't count the liquid dinner that Cami had served you - the scent turned your stomach. It couldn't just be attributed to last night's drinks though. What you were experiencing could be more adequately described as an emotional hangover - your face was puffy and swollen from having cried yourself to sleep, your muscles were sore from being tensed up for hours and your brain felt foggy, struggling to form coherent thoughts. The emotional turbulence and lack of a restful sleep were taking their toll on you.

When you tried to climb onto one of the stools at the counter you had to grab onto the slightly sticky surface to help pull you up. It bordered on embarrassing, but there wasn't enough emotional capacity left within you to care. With a grunt and a groan you finally properly settled onto the high chair. Your upper body slumped over the counter, propped up only by your elbows on the surface, your head coming to rest in the mold of your hands. It was the most comfortable position you could muster at the moment, albeit not the most proper one.

It was still early in the morning, prime-time for the morning rush of customers looking to catch a bite before work, but the place was rather empty with only a few tables occupied. There couldn't have been more than six patrons in the entire joint, you included. So instead of the loud morning chatter one might have expected, it was rather quiet, save for the radio playing in the kitchen and the quiet murmurs of the table a row behind you. It was almost comforting.

A waitress appeared in front of you and slid a menu between your elbows. "Long night, sugar?" She popped the gum she was chewing and got to work on the cutlery that was in a pile next to her, waiting to be rolled into the feeble plastic-y napkins this type of place tended to serve. You only threw an eye over the menu before you pushed it back to her. The quick glance had been enough to force your stomach into summersaults. "More like a really short night," you mumbled as you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to keep from hurling right then and there. Your waitress snickered, but it wasn't mean. "Been there. You want somethin' to eat? Get your strength back there?" She placed a ready set of cutlery on the tray next to her as she eyed you carefully. "Get some color back in that face, hm?" "God, no." Your nose wrinkled out of reflex at the idea of being served a plate of food right now. "I mean, thanks, but I'll just take a pot of coffee." "You mean a cup, sugar?" You shook your head. "I'll need a pot if I want to get through the day ahead of me." "Alright, I'ma get that goin' for ya." The waitress finished wrapping up a set before she headed over to the large coffee machine at the back of the service area.

One pot of caffeine later, the fog in your head had disappeared enough for a plan to slowly take form.

Every single question that had haunted you last night was still still jumping through your brain, but the fresh pump of caffeine sharpened your mind enough to sort them by priority.

How would you get back? - Well, you only knew of one way, and that was the spell that had gotten you here in the first place. As far as you knew, the same way you'd arrived would be your ticket back where you'd come from.

Where would you get the spell? - You'd been a part of assembling the essentials for the spell to work, but you hadn't gathered every component yourself, nor did you have the full list in your head, never mind the spell itself; which, on top of things, you wouldn't be able to perform, because despite having been part of the supernatural scene for years, you were still awfully, painfully, plain-and-nothing-but human.

So taken for granted that you could get your hands on the spell and its ingredients again (a problem that was subsequently moved down on your list and marked with a lower priority), there was still the question of who would perform the spell and what it would cost you. You figured the latter could be figured out somehow (perhaps a case of blind optimism on your part, or just a natural side-effect of having lived as a Mikaelson for years - payment was never an issue, if you were a Mikaelson), but the question of who posed a new question in of itself, and decidedly the most important one:

Was magic even part of this universe?

It had dawned on you that a simple 'yes' was not a given. The research into Kol's spell had only brought up enough information to conclude that yes, alternate universes existed and yes, it was possible to travel between them, but it took immense power and very rare ingredients to do so. You could only guess that it would have been a more common practice if that wasn't the case. The confirmation that alternate universes do exist was about the extent of your knowledge on the topic. To anyone else, your lack of information might have seemed ignorant, but it was really the result of having had one too many life principles turned upside down. You'd grown up in a life where vampires, werewolfs and witches were part of fairytales and not something that actually existed, until you found out that they very much did. You got thrown into the supernatural life by accident, and eventually, it became your life. Things that you'd never dreamed were possible were suddenly part of day-to-day life. So when Freya explained that the spell she had found in Kol's lair opened up a portal, or a rift, as it was referred to, to an alternate dimension, you just rolled with it. Of course it did. Why wouldn't it. Your boyfriend and his family were vampires after all, with a few werewolf genes mixed in here in there. Why wouldn't there be such a thing as alternate universes and a way to travel between them?

But therein lay your problem. Alternate. Meaning not entirely similar to yours. Just because Cami was also a bartender in this universe didn't mean that everything else was also the same.

You'd gotten confirmation of that last night when you had googled every single business and location that you knew your family owned. It had seemed like a smart idea, but had soon driven you into an even more desperate state. The more places you googled, the more names of holders appeared on your screen that meant nothing to you. It became more and more apparent that not only were your Mikaelsons not here, there were no Mikaelsons here whatsoever. Surely, it was debatable - what was worse, to know that this universe's version of your loved ones didn't know you, or that they didn't exist at all? But to you, the answer was clear. Knowing that there was no shape or form of Elijah in this world - not anymore, anyway - made you feel even lonelier, if that was possible at all.

So your most urgent question, your highest priority of the day was crystal clear: find out if magic is real in this universe.

What a perfectly normal quest to go on.

You couldn't have felt more comical if you'd tried.

"Alright, let's get going." Dean stood up from their table and stretched his arms out behind his back. His body was still a bit sore from the long drive they'd gone on yesterday. He loved being behind Baby's wheel, but sitting in one position for hours still did something to his limbs, and it wasn't favorable.

As he stretched himself, his eyes landed on the cake display next to the counter that was just being filled up. Candice had a couple of pies laid out on the counter next to her and was now busy carefully loading them into the display one by one.

"Dean." Cas pulled his attention back, clearly waiting for him to move.

"Just a sec, Cas." It was pie, after all. Fresh pie.

He sauntered over to the counter where a few pies were still lined up. A big smile stretched over his face as his placed his hands on the edge and leaned over the tiled surface to catch a whiff of the freshly baked goods. "Now where have you been hiding these beauties!"

Candice smiled and wiped her hands on her apron. "Fresh outta' the oven! You want a piece?"

Dean scoffed, but the smile never left his face. "Do I want a piece. Make that a whole pie! You got apple?"

Candice peered over the containers in front of her, then pulled one out that she'd just put into the display. Dean's smile now stretched from ear to ear. "Candice, you just became my favorite person."

The waitress laughed, but a hint of redness crept up her neck and into her cheeks. "You want that for here or to go?"

"To go, please. My partner and I gotta go."

Candice nodded as she wrapped tinfoil over the pie and carefully placed the aluminum container in a plastic bag. "Partner, eh? You guys' cops?"

It was Dean's turn to nod. He was about to reply when a voice interrupted him.

"Hey, could I get the check?"

It was a woman two chairs over. She couldn't have been a lot younger than him, five years by most. She was clutching her coffee cup like her life depended on it, and there was an empty pot of coffee in front of her. Her eyes briefly met Dean's as he looked over to her and she quickly looked down, avoiding his gaze.

"Be right with ya, sugar," Candice piped and handed the plastic bag over to Dean. "That'll be 10 dollars." Her cheeks were still flushed, but she matched Dean's smile, seemingly encouraged by his enthusiasm for her pie. He fished two notes out of his back pocket and placed them into Candice's hand. "That's 15 for ya'. You just made this morning a whole lot brighter, Candice."

Candice beamed at the Winchester and he gave her a wink, then headed towards the exit of the diner. He'd almost made it to the door when he heard the voices behind him.

"That'll be two dollars fifty." Candice was presumably talking to the woman who'd ordered the check just before.

"I... I'm 50 cents short."

'None of my business,' said a voice in his head, and it wasn't. But something about the shame in her voice made him turn around.

Candice was looking at the woman like she didn't know what to do. The woman had obviously been through it - hell, her eyebags looked worse than Dean's, and he'd had a rough night. The waitress seemed to be thinking the same thing and looked like she was caught in a conflict between empathy and having to do her job. Before she could say anything, Dean caught up to the two and placed a five dollar bill on the counter.

"I got it."

The woman's head whipped around and she looked at Dean dumbfounded. "I- no, I can't, you don't have to." Dean smiled at her warmly. "I know I don't. But it looks like you're having a rough time and so did I, until my morning just got turned around." He lifted the plastic bag that contained the pie and winked at Candice, who turned even brighter in response. "So I figured maybe I could do the same for you." He winked again, this time at the woman, although it didn't nearly have the same effect on her as it did on the waitress. Instead of blushing, she looked like she was about to refuse his offer again, before she nodded and gave a small smile. "Thank you. That's very kind of you."

A moment later, Dean met up with Cas at the impala. The angel seemed slightly unnerved when he got there. "What took you so long?"

Dean fumbled with the keys and held up the plastic bag once more. "Pie."

Cas rolled his eyes and huffed. "Of course. I can't believe how chill you are about this. The last time we dealt with an open rift, an archangel came through! I don't understand why you're not more worried about this!"

The key to the car had gotten stuck in the keyring and wouldn't come out with just one hand. Frustrated, Dean placed the bag on the roof of the car to free up his other hand. "Believe me, I know. You don't gotta' remind me." He shot Cas a glare before he returned his gaze on the keys.

"Then why are you taking your time to buy pie? Why are we not already there yet? I still don't understand why we didn't go last night when we got here." Castiel was obviously distressed. As he urged Dean on, his voice got even deeper than usual, drenched with urgency.

"Because," Dean exclaimed, "I was tired, Cas! We drove over 16 hours and that was after we just got home from a case! I'm tired! Forgive me if I'm not that excited to be jumping right into the next one!" He slammed his fist on Baby's roof. Both of the men angrily stared at each other over a moment of silence before Cas spoke again.

"It's a rift, Dean."

The Winchester groaned. Cas didn't have to say more than that. He knew how urgent the situation was and, truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure why he was taking things so slowly. It was like some small part of him was worried it would be a repeat of the Michael situation. He sighed and finally managed to get the key un-stuck.

"I know." He opened the door and put the pie in the backseat. "Let's go."

He'd just closed the driver's door when there was a knock on the window. Dean was surprised to see the woman from the diner standing there. He quickly rolled down his window.

"Hey, uh, this might sound a bit weird, but, umh...," the woman started before he could say anything. He raised his eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She looked uncomfortable, like she didn't want to say what she was about to say. Something about it made Dean uneasy. He had a feeling this wasn't just about the coffee he'd paid for. Slowly, so she wouldn't notice, he reached behind his back and laid a hand on his gun. The woman wrung her hands and glanced up at the sky. Dean's hand tightened around the holster. Finally, she met his eyes again.

The dark blonde haired man in the car in front of you was beginning to look impatient, and you couldn't blame him. He'd paid for your coffee, and now here you were, stumbling around your words. Then again, you couldn't be sure you'd heard them right when you'd come out of the diner.

You took a deep breath before you spoke.

"Uh... did you say anything about a rift?"

A/N: This one almost had me in tears because I just couldn't figure out how to get Y/N and Dean to meet. Only took about a month for the idea to finally come to me 🙄 But here we are! Once I got over that hurdle, it was like a walk in the park, haha. Unfortunately we didn't get to see our Mikaelson family in this chapter, but they'll be back soon! Stay tuned!

Feedback is greatly appreciated! 😊 Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @vicmc624 @foreverrandomwritings @imoompalumpa @wildernessflora @spnaquakindgdom @zepskies @starkleila @scripteria @estrelacaida

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jerzwriter · 3 months ago

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OK, it took a little over two months, but I actually finished a fic request list, and as someone with far too many items in my inbox, I'm proud of this! lol What better way to end than with "One Bed Fic Prompts" than with Merida, Olivia, and Casey on a road trip? II hope you enjoy it!

Book: Open Heart Pairings: Ethan x Merida (MC); Bryce x Oliva (F!OC); Tobias x Casey (F!MC) Rating: Teen Trope: There's Just One Bed! Words: 1,175 Summary: Merida, Olivia, and Casey's weekend adventure is off to a rainy start, but they always manage to find their own sunshine.

A/N: Based on the prompts below from @storyofmychoices. Also, participating in @choicesaugustchallenge Prompt 14 - Road Trip. Merida belongs to the amazing @lilyoffandoms and Olivia belongs to the wonderful @storyofmychoices. It was fun to write for our girls again!

MOC World Masterlist || Open Heart Masterlist Full Masterlist

Merida always knew how to play it cool. As the rain hammered on the roof of their car, she convinced Olivia and Casey that she had it totally under control. They never suspected that she had been white-knuckling it the whole time and was the most relieved of all when she saw the small motel they were staying in overnight in the distance.

The Snugglin' Inn looked nothing like it did online. The -g was missing from the neon sign flickering ominously in the night. Its garish pink light reflected in the dozens of little lakes that had formed in the potholes in the parking lot. But after hours on the road in treacherous conditions, the women were willing to stay anywhere... except for maybe Olivia.

“Are you sure this is the place?” she asked nervously.

“Yep, this is it!” Merida smiled. “Rustic charm! Just like the website said!”

"Ah,” Casey said, stretching her arms over her head. “If by charm they mean probably haunted, then yeah, no false advertising claim here! But as long as our room is dry... I’ll fight off the resident ax murderer for one night."

“You don’t really think there’s an ax murderer,” Olivia swallowed. “Do you?”

“Of course there is,” Merida winked. “All motels in Pennsylvania have one. Didn’t you know?”

Casey nodded in agreement. "Yep, state code!"

They rushed to the trunk to grab their bags, then dashed to the tiny lobby dripping wet. The clerk barely glanced at them as she handed over a room key while half-heartedly warning about the air conditioner being on the blink. Normally, faulty air conditioning would be enough to make Casey sleep in the car, but between the rain and talk of murderers, she was eager to get to their room.

“What’s the likelihood that this place has room service?” Olivia asked as they made their way down the outside corridor, her stomach growling.

“About as likely as it is to have comfortable beds,” Merida chuckled.

“Hey,” Casey laughed. “These places are known for being rented by the hour... the beds are what they’re all about.”

“You would know that,” Olivia grinned as Merida pushed the door open.

"Well, this is cozy," Merida said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she tossed her bag onto the bed. The sole queen-sized bed in the tiny room.

Olivia looked around, nervously biting her lip. "Uhm, where are the other beds?"

"There aren’t any," Casey sighed. “It’s OK. One of us can sleep in the bathtub.”

“No one is sleeping in the bathroom; that’s ridiculous!” Merida insisted. “Have you not seen Psycho? No one goes in the bathroom! If we have to pee – do it in the corner of the room.”

“We probably wouldn’t be the first ones to do that,” Casey observed.

“Guys! Are you sure we should stay here?” Oliva worried.

“We’ll be fine,” Casey assured. “It’s just a night.”

Ever practical, Merida was already looking for solutions to the sleeping arrangements. “If we push the bed against the wall, that should prevent at least one of us from falling onto the floor. It might be a little crowded, but it will do.”

"Crowding is inevitable,” Casey smiled. "But we’re all friends, and it’s not like this is the first time we’ve had to share a bed. Remember the time we stayed at that place in The Berkshires?"

Merida couldn’t help but giggle at the memory. "You mean the time you woke up spooning Olivia, and she nearly had a stroke?"

"Hey, I was asleep! I can’t control what I do in my sleep," Casey defended, although her playful grin betrayed her. "Besides, Olivia was fine with it. Being spooned by Casey is kind of a badge of honor!”

"She’s not wrong," Olivia blushed.

After changing quickly, they all settled into bed with Casey in the middle, Merida against the wall, and Olivia on her other side.

“If I fall on the floor during the night, do you think I’ll catch anything contagious?” Oliva asked.

“Liv,” Merida said pointedly. “We're all doctors. Even if you do, we should be able to cure you.”

Just as they were beginning to get comfortable, Merida’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it and rolled her eyes.

"It's Ethan. Look what he sent me.”

“Again? What does he mean again?” Olivia asked. “He never bailed us out before!”

Merida and Casey exchanged sheepish grins, and Oliva was too frightened to ask.

“Tell Ethan to bite me!” Casey laughed. “Tobias would bail us out in a heartbeat. In fact, he’s probably home looking forward to it right now.”

“Speaking of Tobias,” Olivia smiled, handing Casey her phone from the nightstand beside her.

“Oh, my husband thinks he has jokes,” Casey chuckled, showing her friends her phone.

“He's calling me an octopus! He's seriously like an octopus! I mean it! Those arms go everywhere."

Merida let out a groan. “For the love of God, Casey... if you start talking about your sex life, I will make you sleep in the bathtub with the ax murderer... and I might sharpen his ax."

"Well, tell Tobias not to get too jealous," Olivia giggled. "We’re just here to sleep, not to, you know..."

“Speak for yourself,” Merida laughed, playfully pawing her friend. "You never know what kind of mischief we'll get into!"

Olivia’s phone vibrated next. “It’s Bryce!” She beamed, handing her phone to Casey. “My boyfriend has a warning for you.”

“You know our three idiots are sitting in Donahues Googling memes, believing themselves to be much funnier than they actually are!" Merida insisted.

But Casey didn't hear her; she was too busy shaking her head in righteous indignation. “You spoon a person one time!” She lamented. “One time! I don’t know how I got this reputation!”

“Really?” Merida chortled. “We could give you examples, but I'd like to do other things this weekend, and that would take all our time!"

“Yeah,” Oliva laughed as Casey feigned horror.

“Et tu, Brute!”

With that, Merida hopped over her friends, pushing Casey against the wall and leaving Olivia sandwiched in the middle.

“Hey, what are you doing!” Olivia hollered.

“Tell Bryce you’re safe from Casey on this trip,” Merida laughed, holding her from behind. “But not from me.”

“Hey!” Olivia blushed.

“Sorry! I can't let Casey be the only one with the depraved reputation!" She teased.

Olivia and Merida turned to Casey as she giggled in delight.

“What are you laughing at?" Olivia asked.

“Since Merida is spooning you, I told Tobias I'm forking you. Of course, he wants photos!"

“He wants photos?” Merida chided. "Give me your phone. I’ll give him a photo!"

The friends descended into giggles as they recalled stories, blissfully unaware of their less-than-perfect surroundings. By the time they finally fell asleep, daw was already starting to break, and before they knew it, Merida's alarm went off.

Casey groaned as she snuggled closer to Olivia. "Can we delay getting up for a few more minutes, please?"

"I'm with Casey," Olivia mumbled, resting her head on Merida's shoulder.

Merida shook her head with a grin. "Fine," she said, setting the alarm for fifteen minutes later and then getting back under the cover with her friends. "This is actually kind of nice."

Olivia nodded. "Yeah, I think so too."

"Best road trip ever," Casey yawned. "Now, back to sleep!"

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #tobias carrick #tobias x mc #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #moc world #choices #choices fanfic #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #chocies stories you play

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bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

Text

✰ 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐉𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐀

↳ summary: a bad day at work drives you to drink. When a stranger offers to be your drinking partner for the night, you realise that he’s the solution to your problems.

↳ pairing: javier peña x f!reader

↳ [6.7k words] content: 18+ MDNI. Alcohol, diabolical attempts at flirting. Fingering, oral ( m & f receiving ), p in v sex, twist at the end! This is a @beskarbabs remaster — original post date 2021.

javi masterlist I| main masterlist |I join the taglist here

Cigarette smoke and aged whiskey assault your nostrils, the acrid scents singeing the inside of your nose the moment you walk through the doorway and step into the bar. Your aching muscles buzz at the microdose of nicotine, driving you forward despite the exhaustion that desperately tries to pull your throbbing body back to your apartment and the comfort of your bed.

Peering inside, you find the older patrons at the counter smoking cigars while engaged in small talk that you can’t discern from this far away. The smouldering ends pinched between their fingers add to the already significant, smoky haze that blurs the ceiling above your head. Neon lights douse the foggy air with a crimson overlay, and classic Spanish guitar music plays quietly from the radio in the corner of the room. Public houses in the middle of Medellín were busy most nights, but this was a Monday evening, and most of the sticky tabletops were vacant. Desperate to unwind after the taxing work, you resign yourself to the smell of tobacco.

As you reach the bar, you pull your coin purse from your pocket and pinch the zipper between your thumb and forefinger. You can’t help glancing at it as though it may explode in your face. You’re almost out of money; the account is running on empty. Considering you are yet to make a significant breakthrough for your boss and the mission he levied on you, you couldn’t exactly act shocked. You only get money when you provide what he requests. Sure, it probably broke every trading law in the book, but that was the ‘contract’ you’d signed.

You settle onto a stool separate from the rest of the customers and mumble your request to the bartender for a shot of tequila. Sliding over the exact amount of pesos needed to cover the drink over the tacky countertop covered in alcoholic liquid and cigarette burns, you let out a shaky sigh. You couldn't be giving away any tips with how little money you had. In reality, you shouldn't have even walked through the door, but you were desperate to unwind, even just for a little while. It wasn’t ideal, but you could always turn off the television for a week to prevent the electricity bill from racking up more than you could afford – those telenovelas were shit anyway.

Tapping at the surface of the serving area with your nails, you wait impatiently on the drink. You can’t even recall the last time events at work drove you to drink; you usually excelled at meeting your boss's demands. Business had been turbulent recently, the constant violence that plagued the streets of Medellín causing significant strain in your line of work. You rub at your temples with the pads of your thumbs in exasperation as you feel the irritation begin to mount again, nipping uncomfortably at the edges of your mind in the form of a headache.

"You look like shit," the barman points out honestly, and the laugh you return is bitter. If anyone else had ‘blessed’ you with such a compliment, you’d be throwing the tequila into their eyes– but it was too fucking expensive to pass up, and you knew Jose well. He speaks the truth, ugly as it is. You'd been coming to this bar since you moved to Medellín, and you’d never entered the doors as anguished as you are now. He passes over the shot of tequila, and you thank him tacitly with a nod.

"I do," you admit with a sigh of indignation, continuing to tap your nail on the cool, smooth side of the shot glass.

"Lover? Family? Work?" Jose probes, watching you as he polishes a pint glass with a microfibre cloth. You shrug awkwardly, considering just how much you could safely indulge him.

"Work, but it's not that important," you dismiss with a wave of your hand, and he thankfully takes the hint, nodding and walking to serve the older men at the end of the bar attempting to wave him over.

You pick up your shot glass and knock it back with a wince, mildly enjoying the burn in the back of your throat. It adds to the warmth on your skin, the humid summer air having already dampened your brow with sweat. Leaning into the comfort of it, you take a moment to appreciate the taste and the immediate ease of the work pressure that had been silently crushing you.

Tracing the rim of the empty shot glass with your fingertip as you wait for Jose to finish serving the elderly gentlemen, you consider ordering a refill. You don’t plan on getting drunk, but you hope to relax a little. Recently, you’d spent so many evenings staring up at the ceiling while silently bargaining with the plasterboard to let you sleep. The dark circles taking root under your eyes are mildly concerning. Eventually, you decide on just enough to drink to get you tipsy enough to fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow in your apartment.

"Need another, Hermosa?" A gravelly voice speaks up over your shoulder. Twisting in the stool, you take a glimpse back at the person who spoke—a handsome man dressed in a red button-down shirt and tight-fitted denim jeans that look as though they went out of fashion a decade ago and yet look delicious strapped across his thighs. He has yellow-tinted aviators tucked into the collar of his button-down, which you observe is unbuttoned far enough that it exposes more of his bronze-tanned skin and flashes his collarbone.

"I do, actually," you hum with a smile, taking him in. He’s easy on the eyes, and you aren't exactly about to turn down a free drink, so you decided to play along with his game. You playfully gaze into those wandering eyes through your lashes, and his sultry lips pull up into a smirk.

The handsome stranger clicks his fingers with self-assured arrogance, grabbing the attention of the barman, Jose, almost instantly. His American accent, laced with a southern twang, slips seamlessly into Spanish, ordering you another tequila shot and himself a glass of whiskey as he settles down on the stool beside you. All the while, his eyes remain rooted to you, taking in the curves and plains of your body. The hubris this man gives off is excessive, and yet it suits him well. It is clear to you he knew how attractive he was, and how to use it to his advantage.

"That's very kind of you, sir," you thank him politely, turning in your stool to face him. He arches his eyebrow a little at that, lips tugging his smile wider. The honorifics seemed to please him.

"Well, I couldn't help but notice you were all alone," he drags his eyes over the length of your body, clearly enjoying drinking in the view, "So I thought I'd join you. You were staring into oblivion looking as though you were waiting for Prince Charming to save you from a miserable day."

"Oh, are you saying you are my Prince Charming?" You quiz with an arched eyebrow, keeping up with his teasing. You rest your chin on the balls of your palm and balance your elbow on the countertop. A sparkle dances in the warmth of his irises, amused by your ability to match his flirtatious taunts.

"Why don't you wait and see?" He keeps his eyes on yours, and his voice drops to a thrilling, gruff tone that sparks excitement down your spine. He’s bold and brazen, and you find yourself already warming to this stranger’s charms. He turns back to the counter, breaking the spell momentarily as Jose approaches with your drinks.

While he speaks to the bartender and thanks him for his service, you mindlessly drop your gaze to his hand and spot something that piques your interest. When he pulls out his leather-bound wallet to pay, you note his identification cards, driver's licence, bank card and recognise the flash of a silver badge too. Etched into the shape of a shield, the badge very clearly states in bold, midnight blue writing that the dashing stranger beside you belonged to the DEA—a Drug Enforcement Officer. You sit back slightly on your stool, observing the man as he hands over a few pesos notes and pushes your drink over the counter to you.

"Cheers, Hermosa," he nods to you, taking up his whiskey and holding it aloft for you to tap your glass against. You waste no time picking up the shot and clinking glasses before knocking back your drink with a grimace. It burns your tongue and heats your stomach lining. He sips at his, swirling the amber liquid around the crystal glass slowly as he takes in the view of your body again.

You purse your lips, glancing around the room for a second to act indifferent, despite the fact you are now very much interested in this stranger. "So, what is the name of my Prince Charming?" You urge him to talk about himself. He smirks at your questioning, undeniably assuming this meant he’d hooked you in this ‘pick-up game’.

"Javier," he answers, sipping his whiskey again as you repeat it back to him with a hum. You trace the rim of your shot glass with your fingertip absentmindedly. The man before you had captured your attention enough for you to escape boredom for just a little while at least. It could get interesting from here on.

"Prince Javier works for the DEA too?" You ask with a knowing smirk. He pauses, glancing at the wallet in his palm. “I didn’t realise they hired royalty.”

"You're observant," Javier says cautiously, his voice suddenly guarded as he places his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. You shrug, keeping the light and flirty atmosphere between you as Javier rests his forearm on the countertop, still holding his glass of whiskey.

"I have to be. Can't be too careful when a random man is buying me a drink," you point out, indicating you felt safe around him now you knew his occupation.

"But I'm not just a random man, Hermosa. I'm Prince Charming," He winks at you, but also finds himself grimacing at the clunky attempt at flirtatious raillery. It triggers a giggle through you, shaking your head as you twist the shot glass over the countertop with a grin.

"So you keep saying. Why don't you prove it by sticking around and having a few more drinks with me?" You ask in a coy tone while slowly inching forward and tracing shapes on the back of his palm with the tip of your index finger, the pad wet with remnants of your tequila shot that coated the rim of the glass. His eyes flit between your touch to the curve of your lips as a cheeky smile stretches across his mouth.

"Only if you let me buy you another drink," he raises his eyebrows.

"I like the sound of that, Javier."

-----------

The hours fly by, and the hands on the clock on the wall complete two rotations by the time you notice. Javier had moved his stool closer to yours and ramped up the flirting the more he drank. You’d both bounced off each other, conversations about family and interests flowing smoother than the alcohol between you. It’s way past one o'clock in the morning, yet neither of you seemed to tire, invigorated by each other's presence.

You had told him about your funniest stories, and he, in turn, spun you a tale from when he was back in Texas as a teenager, leaving his high school sweetheart at the altar to fight the narcotics epidemic in Columbia— You hang onto his every word, clasping his palm in your own.

At this stage, the two of you had been through quite a few glasses of tequila and whiskey, and while Javier is clearly feeling the effects of his drinks, you maintain a constant tipsiness. You had been pacing yourself, not wanting to look a fool in front of such a handsome man.

Despite his intoxication, Javier was still charming and had been showering you with so many compliments that you had lost count. During the shared drinks and life stories, the two of you had settled on the nickname Princesa despite you giving him your name, given he insisted upon making himself out to be ‘Prince Charming’. It was cringe, but the two of you found the funny side in your drunken states.

"Mhm, Javi- I like your dress shirt," you muse, reaching over to smooth the collar. Your fingertips trace the tanned skin just beyond the fabric, noting the heat that rolls from him.

"You do?" He watches you closely, taking a drag from a cigarette he had lit a few minutes ago. He claimed it was because he was craving the nicotine, but you hadn’t failed to notice how his jeans looked a whole lot tighter.

It was subtle at first. You hadn't been able to stop yourself, moving your hand to his bicep as you laughed, with Javier returning your touches by stroking his hand up and down your thigh while you converse. It had been give and take, teasing touches and lingering gazes adding to the sexually charged atmosphere between you. The circles he thumbed across your knee had settled butterflies in the pit of your stomach, the hungry eye he’d aimed at you heating your cheeks.

"I do. It suits you," you trace your hand down the front of his shirt and across his sternum as you look up at Javier through your lashes. His pupils blow wide, swallowing the warm brown of his irises and watching you hungrily as you circle the buttons of his shirt with your fingertips. You knew that you were driving him crazy; he’d been giving you this look for hours— like he'd been ready to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of there around an hour ago.

His hand drags up your thigh slowly, settling on the hip of your skirt as he pulls you to the edge of your stool. It tears a gasp of surprise when your noses bump. He makes no effort to remove himself from your personal space, and you can smell the whisky on his breath. It’s strong, the heavy, woody scent swimming in your mind as you sink your teeth into your lower lip.

He groans softly.

"Princesa, this bar is closing soon. Would you like to come back to my apartment?" He says it so casually, as though he isn't implying anything at all. Like he was just asking you back for another drink, his body, however, betrays the unceremonious offer. His eyes are hungry, and his hand squeezes at your hip, underlining the question and almost leaving you light-headed.

"I'd like that," you whisper, gazing back into his brown eyes, your own heavy-lidded with want. He smirks and gets so close, *so close* that you swear he’s going to kiss you until he’s patting at your hip before standing. He thanks the bartender, leaving you light-headed and giving a small wave before Javi practically drags you to the door. The red lighting in the bar bleeds into the street, the dark of the outside punctuated by the yellowish glow of the sparse street lamps.

"I assume you don't live very far away?" You ask quietly as he walks alongside you. He shakes his head and gives a small smile.

"No. I only live around the corner, actually."

Well, that was convenient.

You both walk in relative silence after that, taking in the quiet street and the sounds of the city in the background. Loud drunkards stumble out of the closing bars as the owners begin to throw them out, and there’s the distant sound of cars driving on the main roads.

Distracted by the ‘music’ of Medellin, you felt the back of Javier’s hands brush your knuckles gently, skimming the skin in a feather-light touch. It’s such an innocent connection, and yet the touch sparks heat in between your legs and lights up your spine. You don’t even need to look up at him to see if he feels the same way; the excitement crackles thickly in the slither of distance between your bodies.

You both walk into the apartment's hallway, walking to one of the doors on the first floor, directly opposite the entry door. Room number 3. It's a pleasant apartment complex, unremarkable, clean and quiet, with stairs leading to other floors.

Finally, Javier pulls his keys out of his jeans pocket, and he looks at you. Those fucking eyes drag over your body again, unashamed in how they drink you in and savour the view. You watch, anxious with anticipation and chewing on your lip, as he slips the key into the lock. The click echoes in the small hallway.

The nerves begin to kick in a little now, and you start shifting your weight from one foot onto the other as you wait impatiently. Javi looks at you with such an intense hunger that you feel the warmth pooling deep down in your abdomen. It feels as though he’s sparking your nerves set alight, blooming across your skin that was begging for his touch. You’re sure you’re sweating, a soft sheen clinging the fabric of your clothes to your body.

He takes his time as he steps towards you, and you try to steady your breath as he closes the space between the two of you with ease. Tingles of excitement tickle your skin as he takes you by the hip, his large palm swallowing your side and anchoring you against his chest gently. He backs you against the door, which he hasn't yet opened.

The hand on the curve of your pelvis is dangerously slow as it skims your body, trailing his fingertips from your hip across your waist and tracing the edge of your breast until it settles, cupping the side of your neck gently. Javier’s thumb brushes your throat delicately as he stares fixedly into your eyes.

"Javi," you whimper, breathing shallowly as you watch him touch you delicately.

"You're such a tease, Princesa. Kept touching me, kept giving me these looks like you wanted me to bend you over the counter right there in that bar," his voice is gruff, and you feel yourself throb at his filthy words. You’re beginning to think you wouldn't have complained if he had; grasping the edge of the countertop, wailing as he took you from behind in front of the patrons and claimed you for himsel-

Javier uses his gentle grip on your throat to pull you impossibly closer, so your nose brushes with his. Once again, you can smell the whiskey on his breath, but also the scent of what you assumed was his aftershave. It was citrusy and mixed with the smell of the cigarettes he had been smoking in the bar. You wanted so desperately to kiss at his neck and take in that scent deeper, drag the tip of your nose against his jugular and sink your teeth in.

"Is this okay?" He asks under his breath, wanting to be sure this is what you wanted. Before your mind even has the time to process the query through the haze of citrus fruit and cigarette smoke, you’re nodding your head with a soft whimper. Tilting your head up to chase his mouth, you gaze into his eyes in a desperate, silent plea. He takes in your expression for just a moment, relishing the evident arousal he draws from you and then smirks, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a soft brush of a kiss.

Javier controls the kiss, still clasping your throat gently as he keeps the kiss soft. His moustache brushes your skin slightly, and yet you don't mind it; you're too lost in his touch to care. His tongue slips into your mouth, tracing over your own and taking in your taste as he leans you back while fumbling for the door knob to open the door into the hallway. You're both stumbling in the darkness, with Javi blindly feeling against the wall to turn on the lights. You pull him closer by the collar of his red button-down, his aviator glasses clattering to the floor and skidding beneath some of the furniture. He groans, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth and guiding you towards the bedroom.

The kiss is rough now, all teeth and tongue as you move your fingers on one hand into his hair, the other gripping the open collar of his shirt. He nudges the door open with his shoulder with practised ease, not once breaking away from the kiss in the process. He edges you towards the bed, carefully helping you lay down when the backs of your knees hit the mattress. Javi climbs over you with a soft groan of praise at the sight of you beneath him, the sound making your body almost vibrate with need.

"You're such a minx. Could barely keep it together this long," he growls in your ear, spreading your thighs with his palms and slotting his hips between them. His lips trace against your neck, kissing gently over your throat.

"Fuck, Javi, "you breathe out, a crack of white-hot pleasure running down your spine as he wastes no time in sucking marks onto your neck that you are sure will be a violent purple tomorrow. Already your body craves him, arching against the mattress to chase more of his touch, to pull him impossibly closer.

Javier’s hand shifts further, slipping beneath your skirt and brushing his thumb across your soaked lace underwear. The pad presses against your swollen clit, and he chuckles as your body jolts in shock at the sudden stimulation. Javi anchors his free hand to your pelvis to push your hips down, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"You're so wet, Hermosa. Your panties are soaked," he whispers as your hips grind into his palm, desperate for more friction. The burning need in your abdomen has you babbling, begging to be filled. You’re not even sure that you’re making any sense any more; the only words spilling from your lips are a pathetic mixture of ‘Javi’ and ‘please’ and curses all strung together.

"Do you want to get off on my fingers? Is that what you want?" He rasps, rubbing tight little circles through the fabric that makes you choke out a needy, sinful little whine. It’s like you can’t suck in enough air to your lungs, toes curling at the build-up of pleasure in your core. Fuck yes, that's what you wanted, but you found yourself utterly inept at trying to form words while he teased your clit like this, slowly and teasingly circling it with the pad of his calloused fingers. He's dragging out wails of bliss from your shuddering chest with each brush of the bundle of nerves.

"Please, Javi, plea-" you're cut off, eyes rolling back into your skull as your panties are pushed to the side, and his finger slowly slides into you. You feel every individual ridge of each knuckle as it stretches you, adding a bite of dull pain to the tingling pleasure burning through your cunt. Javier watches your expression as your mouth falls open, brows knitting together. Your hands reach up, gripping at his red button-down as he begins to move his fingers in and out of you slowly.

It's like your brain short-circuits. He seems to know every part of your body that makes you feel good, not once missing those pleasure points that make your toes curl with each gentle thrust of his fingers. Your hips are again rising off the bed, legs spreading wider, desperate to take him deeper. Javi waits until you're clenching around his digits before he pulls them out despite your pine of protest. He's teasing you, repeatedly giving you hardly any time to enjoy the full feeling and then pulling his fingers out again, leaving you begging for more.

"Javi!" You beg, breaking off into a sob. You need his touch so badly, the pulsing ache between your legs almost painful. He ignores your pleas, hooking his fingers unto the waistband of your underwear and sliding them down your thighs achingly slowly. He tosses them somewhere on the other side of the room and hikes your skirt up to your hips, too impatient to battle with the zip to rid you of it entirely. Subconsciously, you lean into his kisses, fingers making quick work of his button-down and sliding it slowly off of his shoulders and down his arms to reveal his carved biceps and a white undershirt. He pulls back and yanks this over his head, discarding it in the same general direction he had thrown your lace. Even in the dimly lit bedroom, you can still make out the delicious expanse of tanned skin on his chest and toned stomach. Before you have the chance to taste it, craving to leave kisses across his sternum, his head is trailing down your body. He's mouthing at your thighs, gripping your hips to hold them in place as you sit up on your forearms to watch him.

"Or do you want to get off on my tongue?" He murmurs, the lewd sound that escapes your throat in answer louder than you expect it to be. Javier clutches your thighs, pulling your legs over his shoulders and causing your breath to hitch in your throat with anticipation.

Then his nose brushes over your clit, followed by the warmth of his tongue dragging a stripe over the length of your cunt and eliciting a soft moan from you. Despite your best efforts to restrain yourself, your fingers found themselves in his dark curls, pulling slightly to ground yourself as the tip of his tongue swiped over your clit. He moans at your taste, causing a familiar, buzzing sensation that has you clenching around nothing. Fuck, he felt heavenly, tongue moving lazily against your clit as he built that electrifying arousal.

"Don't stop," you beg him, gripping tighter at his hair and pushing his face deeper, almost terrified he’ll stop. Javi doesn't miss a beat, instantly fulfilling your wordless desire for more by slipping his fingers back inside of you and sucking on your clit. He's brutal, not giving you a moment's rest as he continues stimulating your throbbing bundle of nerves while moving his fingers in and out of you. It's so good, a coil of bliss working its way at the base of your spine and causing you to lose any form of inhibition. You use his hair to anchor him as you shift your hips, attempting to ride his face for more friction to satiate the growing wave of ecstasy between your thighs.

His teeth graze at your clit, and suddenly your mind is wavering as it goes blank.

"Shit-"you gasp out, feeling your climax build tightly between your legs as you desperately pull at his hair.

"Fuck, please, pl-please-"you gasp out, a sound of elation caught in your throat as his fingertips brush a spot inside of you, which drives your hips from the mattress entirely. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you tip headfirst into your blinding orgasm. You’re enraptured, caught in the most intense sensation of bliss as your ears ring, cumming against Javier's mouth. He continues to tongue your clit, your legs trembling, and your back lifts off the bed as you keen, tears streaming down your face. Javi keeps at it until you're sobbing, grasping at his hair and forcing him back. His tongue runs over his bottom lip, his moustache slick and glistening with your cum.

"You taste so fucking good, Princesa," he purrs, watching you as you float back down from your high and into your spasm-wracked body. He takes your face in his palm and moves back up towards your face, kissing you gently while settling onto the mattress beside you. You can taste yourself, musky and heady, yet it's so good with the hint of woodsy whiskey still lingering on his tongue.

You wind your arms around his neck, pulling Javier closer while he fumbles his belt. You know he must be struggling in those painfully tight jeans, his cock straining against the denim, so you trace your fingertips against the zipper. Pulling it down ever so slowly, you watch as Javi pulls the belt from the loops.

As you slide your hands down into his pants, you feel for the waistline of his boxers to dip your fingers underneath. The further you move down, however, you're shocked to find he's not wearing any at all. You pause, minding the arousal that floods back between your thighs at his brazen choice. When you look at Javi, he's smirking at your expression, the cheeky bastard.

"Are you really not wearing any boxers?" You whisper, staring at him in shock.

"Easier access," he muses, enjoying your surprise. Heat prickles the skin of your cheeks, and you focus on tugging his jeans past his hips. Javier helps you pull them off entirely as you concentrate on the throbbing urgency of his cock. The head of his dick is flushed red, needy after almost three hours of incessant teasing. Tentatively, you take his length into your palm to stroke him, and Javier lets out a soft groan as he lays his head back against the pillows. His breath is shaky, hand gripping at your hips again as you pump his cock slowly.

"Fuck," he breathes out, eyes rolling back into their sockets as you run your tongue over the head of his dick, tasting the salty precum leaking from the tip. You keep your mouth busy, taking him deeper as you use one hand to unzip your bunched-up skirt and wiggle out of it, kicking it off the mattress somewhere onto the floor over the side of the bed. His fingers slowly card through your hair, but do not apply any pressure.

You whimper softly, hollowing your cheeks as you take the rest of him into your hand and begin to jerk him off slowly. Javier tilts his head back further into the soft down of his pillows, hips twitching slightly as he attempts not to thrust down your throat. The moans that creep up your throat send vibrations from base to tip, and Javier releases soft gasps of shock as your tongue traces the veins on the underside of his thick cock.

"Dios mío, Princesa," he growls, lifting your head off of him and flipping you suddenly onto your back. You yelp in surprise, Javier quickly grasping the base of his twitching length to stave off any impending orgasm.

"If you keep doing that, I'll cum," he rasps, lips tracing the shell of your ear as you wrap your arms around his neck. Pulling your thighs around his waist, Javi reaches for one of the drawers on his nightstand. You pat him quickly on the chest, stopping him.

"It's okay," you whisper, and he looks down at you in surprise.

“Princes-“

"I'm on contraception.” You swear that even in the dark, you see his pupils dilate as he stares at you. Avidly, he lines himself up with your folds, holding your face in his palm and smoothing your cheekbone with his thumb. Brushing the head of his cock up against your clit, Javier groans as he watches you jolt slightly, still hyper-sensitive from that mind-shattering orgasm. You slowly trace your fingers down the shaved skin of his chest, eyes pleading with him to fill you.

Javi begins to sink his hips heavily, cock pushing at your entrance and stretching your walls deliciously. You whine, head cocking back into the pillows and exposing your throat for him to kiss while you adjust to the sting between your legs. Javier holds your hips in his hands, rubbing circles into your skin soothingly as you grow accustomed to the intrusion. By the time he's sheathed fully inside you, you're convinced he's split you open, begging for him to start moving.

And then he does, slamming his cock into you and setting a cruel pace. He feels so fucking good, the pleasure so intense and the slam of his hips so heavy that you can feel your walls fluttering around his cock already. He's stoking the fire twisting between your thighs and making you feel so full that your eyes are out of focus, tears welling up in them.

Javier pulls back from your throat, looking over your body with a ragged groan as he uses his grip on your sides to pull you back onto his cock harder. The overwhelming waves of bliss grow maddening as his tight hold on your waist leaves a dull, painful sensation, and you're almost sure you'll have bruises the shape of his fingerprints in the morning, complete with swirls and arches. You can feel Javi pulse inside you and grinds his hips, attempting to find that earth-shattering spot inside of you again.

"Fuck, you look so good like this; keep your eyes on me," he demands, wanting to see the build-up of pleasure in your eyes. You roll your hips, whimpering at the way he commands you. Soon, with your combined efforts, the head of his cock is knocking up against your cervix, and the pressure has you wheezing out his name with a sharp intake of air. Javi takes this moment to brush his thumb over your clit, growling when he sees your eyes roll back into your skull at the sudden fervour you feel that's bringing you closer and closer to climax.

Then he brushes against something inside of you that makes your nerves light up, and you're sobbing desperately, eyes squeezing shut and trying so hard to chase that high. Javier pulls his calloused hands over your stomach, pressing down on the pliant skin there to feel himself move in and out of you at a rapid pace. Your pleasure is threatening to spill over, sparking at the base of your spine, and suddenly it's too much to hold back.

"Javi-"you beg, voice catching in your throat.

"Come on, Hermosa. Come on, give it to me," he purrs, brushing his thumb against your clit one more time and suddenly— oh, suddenly, you're there. Time seems to slow down for a moment, suspended in the air until it crashes down on you. It’s so intense, so overwhelming that you have tears streaming down your cheeks, cumming with a keen of his name. Your cunt is pulsing and tightening around Javi's cock, and he's growling out a moan as he goes rigid inside of you, pumping you full of his cum. He's shuddering, and his fingers dig tightly into your waist.

For a moment, the two of you stay still, Javi leaning over you and peppering your chin with soft, open-mouthed kisses. As the afterglow kicks in, you're giggling, covering your face with your palms as the delirium kicks in. You hear Javi chuckle to himself, pressing his lips to your hairline and wiping away the sheen of sweat at your temple.

As you come down from your high, you relax into the covers of the bed, entirely spent. Exhaustion is ebbing at your mind, your breath still heavy as Javi pulls out of you with a haggard groan and holds you close to him. You both don't say anything to each other at first, too blissed out to form a sentence.

Javi kisses your forehead over and over, brushing his hand along your bruised side in an attempt to ease the painful ache his fingers left behind. You find yourself leaning into his touch, allowing yourself to revel in the post-orgasm bliss.

"Do you need some water?" He asks you softly, stroking your hair back, to which you shake your head no but thank him quietly for his consideration. He nods and gently pulls the thin cotton covers over your body as he settles in beside you. You both lay in each other’s silent company, Javi's thumb tracing lazy patterns on the skin of your abdomen as his eyes slip closed, alcohol and blissful exhaustion causing him to fall into sleep relatively quickly.

The room is quiet, Javi's breathing the only sound you can make out. You lay perfectly still for at least ten minutes, feeling the man beside you ease into unconsciousness. With his breathing slowed and his thumb eventually stilling at your side, you assume sleep has him in a tight grasp. Ever so gently, you ease out of his hold, slipping out of bed and picking up your clothes. You’re careful to be silent — the last thing you needed was him waking up and discovering what you were about to do.

A part of you feels terrible, using Javier this way. He'd been kind enough to buy you drinks. Instead, fear motivates you to put one foot in front of the other, the bare soles of your feet padded across the floor towards the bedroom door. Your boss, Pablo Escobar, had demanded information on DEA agents from you and the other women he had hired, and you daren’t argue, fearful of the bullets that you were almost certain had your name etched into them. Having bumped into Javier at the bar, it was a stroke of luck akin to striking gold; a stay of execution.

Don Pablo had hired a group of women into his staff only recently. Well known for hiring only men, like most drug lords in Columbia, he knew the women he hired would not come under the scrutiny of the DEA or the Columbian police. With the support of the American government, the DEA was closing in on him, and the Medellin cartel at a frightening pace, and he was in dire need of some form of information to get ahead of the gringos - stat.

Without the suspicion of the police, you had managed to get around relatively quickly, but finding the information without talking to anyone and alerting people of Don Pablo's covert mission was a much more challenging task than anticipated. You had carried on regardless, motivated by knowing you wouldn't get paid unless you handed over relative information to Escobar and his cousin Gustavo. You were getting pretty desperate for both the money and your life, knowing Escobar was anything but forgiving. Javier just happened to step into the line of fire.

You find your way back to the living room in the darkness and grab at anything you can see that could be of value. Papers that had Escobar's name on them and had multiple attack plans regarding the cartel's drugs labs in the Amazon Rainforest lay in the drawers of the desk underneath the television and a recording device that was set on the table. When you play it, the sound of Javier and his partner, whom he referred to as 'Murphy’ in the bar, floats quietly from the speakers.

Covert recordings of sicarios' conversations played, revealing the code words Pablo and his men used that the two partners had managed to decipher and use to their advantage.

You could almost laugh at how careless Javier had been to allow you into his house with all of this information just strewn about in the open, but you suppose he thought that you weren't a threat. No one did.

You take the items you snatched from Javier's apartment and slip out into the humid street once again. As you walk back to your apartment, you can’t help but think back to the conversation you and Javier had at the bar. The one where he claimed he was "Prince Charming saving you from a miserable day." You realise, looking back on it, that he had done precisely that. Prince Charming had unknowingly given you all the information you needed for a payout from Escobar and managed to save you from the end of a pistol barrel.

And you try to convince yourself of your shamelessness, insisting to yourself that you aren’t exactly the princess he’s looking for.

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