#car rental drop off at airport | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leiascully · 2 months ago

Text

Fic: POANG (M, MSR)

4400 words; rated M for a lot of real and imaginary sex; the solve high hits Scully right in the libido and a trip to IKEA doesn't help. happy birthday, @laurencem (ao3)

There’s a novelty to working a case in a city. They’re usually in smaller towns, out on the edges of things where the fields blur into the woods and the monsters wear animal skins. Today’s monster is human, or something that resembles one. Scully doubts sometimes that it’s possible to be so brutal and retain humanity.

They’d been called in on this one on the suspicion of witchcraft. There had been a series of killings: bundles of herbs left at the scene, dead bees scattered about, cedar smoke lingering in the corners of the rooms, corpses ritually disfigured. The perpetrator turned out to be more ecofascist than druid. No caltrops for him, and no nice trip to the woods for her and Mulder. This killer has been cultivating poison plants, including the kind of mushrooms that reduced a person’s liver to a liquid. He raved as they put him in the car, something about the city being a hive and its denizens mere drones. Scully tuned it out.

Case closed by noon and they’re back at the hotel. It’s not a particularly nice one: no restaurant, no pool, no premium channels. They’re close to the airport, far from most of the amenities. The closest landmark is an IKEA looming blue and yellow by the highway. Scully regrets making them drop off the rental car early, but Skinner’s been making noises about expenses again. Frugality and a high solve rate are the better part of valor. There’s a free shuttle to the airport, but their flight isn’t until tomorrow morning.

“Where do you go to eat around here?” Mulder asks the college-age kid at the desk.

The kid shrugs. “IKEA.”

“To eat?” Mulder sounds skeptical. It’s music to Scully’s ears. She settles her hip against the wall and watches him.

“I mean it’s not where I would take a date, but they’ve got food,” the kid says, glancing between them.

Mulder turns to Scully. He lifts an eyebrow.

“IKEA it is,” she says.

It’s a short walk, at least. Scully’s used to the touristy part of DC, which this is decisively not. She’s used to walking next to Mulder in a suit and heels instead of jeans and flats. It feels different. She never feels small, walking next to Mulder. He makes space for her, even when they’re out on their own time, like this. She wonders if that makes it look like they're on a date, when they’re out of uniform.

She wonders, just a little, if they’re on a date.

The automatic door of the IKEA opens invitingly, a wide mouth to swallow them up. Mulder ushers her in, an ironic little twist to his lips that tells her he knows what she’s thinking. The maw of capitalism. An ecosystem where the consumer is the consumed. Clearcut forests shimmering with ancient insects.

Also, meatballs.

The end-of-case adrenaline is starting to hit her. All the emotion she locked down in the moment comes back, rerouted from fear to something more feral. She’s restless. She is, truth be told, a little horny. Some confluence of her cycle and the solve high has her wishing she’d stayed in the hotel room. The bathtub looked clean enough. She could have enjoyed herself. Instead she’s letting Mulder lead her through a labyrinth of simulated lives and enticingly arranged furniture. He stops to mosey into one of the staged spaces and beckons her over.

“Look at this, Scully.” He spreads his arms. He can almost touch both walls of the fake apartment. The grey t-shirt he’s wearing stretches in such an enticing way over his chest and shoulders. She gets a whiff of his deodorant and it makes her toes tingle. There’s something about the scent of artificial woods layered over just a hint of sweat that makes the feral part of her flex its claws. She’s always susceptible to the scent of Mulder, but this is something else. She could duck under his arm and sink her teeth into the bare skin of his bicep.

Some part of her is mortified to think of him in this way. Most days, that part gets the upper hand. Today, it’s been outvoted and overpowered. Want prowls back and forth in her belly. She steps closer.

“Can you imagine living here?” he asks. “Actually, you probably could. It’s about the size of a ship’s cabin.”

“Compact,” she says.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at her. “Just like you.”

I’d compact you, she wants to say, even though it makes no sense. She wonders if her pupils are dilated as she gazes up at him. She wants to push him up against the wall, but there’s a cabinet in the way. He’d hit his head, and he’s had enough cranial trauma. She’s his doctor. She knows better.

He’s still smiling at her and for a moment, her wild desire recoils, rebuffed by doubt. How would he react if she lunged for him? Does he even think of her that way? There have been hints over the years, but Mulder’s mouth writes checks the rest of him isn’t willing to cash. In his mind, are they just on a nice little outing, two work colleagues grabbing dinner? Was he planning on going back to his hotel room to watch whatever film features a leggy brunette wearing the fewest clothes?

“Kidding,” he says, and she realizes she’s staring at him. “Scully. I’m kidding.”

“Right.” She takes a step back as he lets his arms fall to his sides.

“Are you all right?” He ducks his head. “You look a little flushed.”

“I’m fine,” she says automatically.

“I guess it’s been an exciting day.” He meanders out of the fake apartment onto the floor of the store. They seem to be in the seating section. Scully doesn’t need a sofa, and she doesn’t need to look at sofas and imagine on them herself cuddled into Mulder’s side. None of these options are as sexy as his leather couch anyway. Oh god, when did she start thinking his couch was sexy?

Mulder stops by a chair with a light wood frame. “POANG,” he reads off the tag. It’s got white cushions and a sort of modern look. “Oh hey, it’s a rocking chair.” He tips it with one finger and it obligingly rocks. “Maybe you need one of these for your living room.”

Scully is possessed by a vivid image of the chair as it might look in her living room. Mulder is sitting in it, jeans yanked open and shirt rucked up, and she’s straddling his lap and riding him until the runners squeak under them. The motion of the chair accentuates the motion of her hips and her tits swing until he captures them in his big warm hands and and and…

“Maybe,” she says. “But Mulder, we have an IKEA closer to home.”

He drops onto one of the sofas and stretches out. He’s obnoxiously long. His shirt rides up, revealing a wedge of golden skin. “You’d probably rather have something vintage anyway. You’ve got champagne tastes, Scully. You like your creature comforts.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” She crosses her arms.

“No.” His lip twitches in amusement. “Although I have to say, if I had your bed, I’d never get out of it.”

Please, she thinks, fervent as a prayer. “Is that why it took you so long to stop sleeping on the couch? Your inherent slothfulness?”

“What can I say.” He brushes his hand over his stomach, smoothing his shirt down. She bites her lip and looks away. “I’m a man of many vices.” His voice is low, almost a purr.

It’s exactly this kind of fucking behavior that feeds the poor confused wild thing inside her. Does he know that? She knows him better than anyone else in her life and she has never been able to decide if it’s real, not even the time they almost kissed. Her need for him gobbles up every scrap of plausibly deniable flirtation, simultaneously satiated and starving.

She looks away from him. The next section is more innocuous - lots of cute little baskets and boxes. “I thought you were hungry.” She can’t imagine a magazine holder stoking her libido.

“Right,” he says, rolling off the couch. “Date night.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s lunchtime.”

“Who knows how long it’ll take us to get to the restaurant?” He shades his eyes with his hand, as if he’s peering over some dim horizon. “This place is engineered for maximum distraction. Think of all the lives we could live between here and there, Scully.”

She manages to haul him through the living room storage without too many detours, although she does have a wistful moment over another one of the staged living spaces, imagining the two of them sharing an apartment. She shoves the thought away. They spend so much time together she should be sick of him. She should fantasize about freedom, or solitude, or meeting a handsome stranger in a tiki bar on a tropical beach. But even when she loathes Mulder, she longs for him. Even the way he examines a Billy bookshelf gives her a rush of fond familiarity at the way he devotes his whole attention to it.

“Should we get you a desk?” he teases as they enter the next section.

Only if you’ll fuck me on it, she doesn’t say. Instead, she rolls her eyes and marches toward the shortcut, knowing he’s drifting in her wake. They skip the kitchen section, which is good; she doesn’t have to imagine herself with her hands braced on a countertop as Mulder presses against her from behind, one hand palming her tits and three fingers of the other inside her. They proceed through dining. In her head, she’s definitely not bent over this table as he takes her from behind, or sitting on that one as he has her for dinner, his lips moving eagerly over her thighs.

There’s something wrong with her. The heat deep in her belly keeps building. It’s Mulder’s damn grace and the way he smells and the fit of his jeans and the way the t-shirt strains when his arm flexes. It’s been too goddamn long since she had sex - years, and that was the once, and years before that - and something has awoken inside her, stirred out of sleep by the moon or the tides or who knows what the fuck. She’d go out on a limb for ancient prophecy at this point. That’s how primal her desire feels. It’s wild inside her, barely contained. And it’s so fucking stupid to feel all of this in the middle of an IKEA - a sanitized, flatpack world of sexless confused caricatures and beds that look too flimsy to fuck in.

Beds. So many beds. Acres of beds. And they do look flimsy, but she imagines fucking in them anyway. That one has a slatted headboard she could attach restraints too. That one has storage drawers for her collection of sex toys and Mulder’s collection of dirty magazines. She’d fuck him in a trundle bed at this point. Hell, she’d fuck him on the floor and let security drag them out and shove them into the cop car still coupled together, because there’s no way she’d let him go.

She somehow makes it through beds.

“You must be hungry,” he says at her shoulder. “Or else you took up competitive speedwalking.”

“That continental breakfast was a long time ago,” she says without looking back. She doesn’t need to look. She can sense him: his heat, his bulk. She could reach out for him and know exactly what she’d touch. That’s the problem with her fantasies. She knows him too intimately.

The wardrobe section doesn’t trouble her much, aside from a brief vision of dragging him into a small dark space and having her way with him. She doesn’t even flinch when they get to the children’s section, or at least not outwardly. Her eyes are on the prize and for once, it’s not Mulder’s ass. It’s the IKEA bistro at long last.

They dine. Mulder has meatballs. Scully has the salmon. The meatballs look suspiciously pale to her, but Mulder assures her they’re delicious. He holds out his fork for her, won’t take no for an answer. She relents and he feeds her a fragment of meatball dipped in the sharp sweetness of lingonberry jam. It’s better than she expected. She eats her salmon and wonders at her impulse toward the ascetic. Mulder is supposed to be the one who’s chosen a lonely, constrained life, but she’s the one denying herself mashed potatoes and a potential heaping helping of Mulder. If his flirting means anything, and that’s the if of her life at this point.

She sighs and puts her fork down on her plate. Mulder eats the last bite of her salmon, but only when it becomes clear she isn’t going to eat it. He smiles at her and her heart and her loins both throb. Fuck, she loves him so much.

They escape the IKEA without any further purchases. Fortunately, most of the rest of the store is small goods and packaged furniture, so the only thing to tempt her is the occasional surface that looks firm enough to support them both.

“Call me when you want dinner,” Mulder says when they get back to the hotel. She locks herself into her room and scans her notes on the case. She waits five minutes, fifteen, an hour. There’s no knock on her door. She starts to run a bath. Her whole body feels congested. She knows it’s not possible to die from metaphorical blue balls, unless it is and she’s about to be in the X-Files again. She wants him so much she feels like a teenager again. If they’d grown up together, he would have been her first kiss. She knows that. Four years would have made a difference until it didn’t. She would have waited for him to finally, finally see her.

She’s waiting for that now.

There’s a full length mirror near her door and she stands in front of it. There’s nothing wrong with her, surely. She’s not as buxom as some, not as curvy as others, but he’s dragged his eyes up and down her body a hundred thousand times. She’d know what that meant from anyone else. With Mulder, who knows? It could be sacred geometry. He could be comparing her to the women in the tapes he stashes under his tv. Maybe she’s just in his line of sight and he’s thinking about something else, sinusoidal curves or what inhabits the bleak depths of space, and it only looks like interest.

She squeezes her breasts, thumbs her nipples. Her own hands aren’t what she wants, but they’re familiar. She slides her palms over her body as the water thunders into the bathtub. If she closes her eyes as she tugs off her t-shirt and unbuttons her jeans, she can imagine it’s him. Fire follows her fingertips as she draws a topographical map of her body with his phantom hands. She’s down to her bra and panties when someone raps on the door.

“Just a minute,” she calls, and turns off the water. She peers through the peephole, wrapping a towel around herself. It’s Mulder. Of fucking course, it’s Mulder, interrupting her at exactly the moment she would want him to, so that he can tell her about fairy rings or the exciting properties of silicon instead of fucking her through the hotel bed.

She lets him in, rolling her eyes at herself.

“I went back to the IKEA,” he says. “In the vein of the heroes of old. I conquered the extremely domestic wilds of the main floor and I may have ordered you a POANG chair to be delivered. Also, I brought cake.” He puts two plastic boxes on her dresser. “But I didn’t know if you’d want chocolate or strawberry.”

“Why?”

“Why? We solved the case, Scully. I think a little celebration is in order. Or why the chair? I thought it would look good in your living room. I don’t have the space for one.” He looks her up and down all too briefly. What a gentleman. “Are you busy? I can come back later.”

“I’m not busy,” she says, just to see if he’ll accept it. For two people so passionately devoted to the truth, they lie to each other all the time. Maybe it’s plausible that she frequently sits around her room en déshabillé and he’s just missed it every time.

“Chocolate or strawberry?” He produces two forks. “Although I guess we can share.”

“Mulder, does it look like I want cake right now?”

He does the slow pan up and down her body this time. Heat rushes up her body, a sudden blaze that stokes the furnace in her belly to a roaring flame. She can feel the flush in her cheeks and down her chest.

“I admit, you don’t seemed dressed to dine,” he says at last.

She opens her hand, a gesture that invites him to follow his thoughts to their logical conclusion and leave.

“The cake was a ruse,” he says abruptly, ignoring her hint. “I wanted to check on you. You seemed a little off earlier.”

“Off?” She sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe frustrated or angry.” He drags the standard-issue chair over, sits with his knees almost brushing hers. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. It was a weird case.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” she says.

He stares at her. There’s a long, long moment, during which she thinks about kissing him. She can’t stop looking at his mouth. As if he senses her gaze, he licks his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” she asks, still half-mesmerized.

He taps her knee with one finger. “You said you were fine. Okay. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He gets up.

“What?” she says, flummoxed by his sudden pivot. “Mulder, the cake.”

“You can have it,” he says. He tosses the forks on the dresser by the cake. “Eat it in good health. I’ll be back later.”

“Where are you going?” she asks.

He paces back and forth. “I don’t know. It kind of feels like you don’t want me here.”

She opens and closes her mouth. “First of all, I’m in a state of undress.”

“I don’t care about that, Scully.”

“You don’t care?” She stands up. “What if I care?”

He makes a dismissive gesture. “I’ve seen you undressed, you’ve seen me undressed, it doesn’t have to be weird.”

“It doesn’t.” Her voice is flat with disbelief. “It doesn’t have to be weird.”

He shrugs. “Not unless you want it to be weird.”

“Fine.” She’s fed the fuck up. It’s been a long, weird, fairly excruciating day. She drops the towel.

This time Mulder really looks at her. She can feel the way his eyes drag over her skin, stopping to caress each rounded nipple, dipping toward the elastic of her panties.

“Not weird at all,” he says, but his voice is hoarse. He shifts, which makes the bulge of his erection more noticeable. Fuck it, Scully thinks. You don’t get to the moon if you never fire the rockets. She feels drunk. Mulder’s full attention has always been 100 proof.

“I wanted to fuck you in the POANG chair,” she says conversationally.

“Yeah.” He shifts again. “I wanted that too. Maybe that’s why I bought you one.”

“The way it rocks,” she says, and shivers a little, which makes him shiver too.

“I wanted to play house in those little apartments,” he tells her. “You and me, falling asleep watching tv, but in the same place for once. You and me, sharing a bed.”

“Yeah,” she says.

“Is that why you seemed mad?”

She nods. “Also I was hungry.”

“Where else did you want to fuck me?” he asks, stepping closer. His eyes have gone dark green. His pupils are wide.

“Everywhere,” she tells him.

“Wanna start with this bed and see how far we get?” His hands settle on her hips, so lightly, as if he’s afraid she’ll pull away. Instead, she drags his head down, breathes against his lips for a moment, and then kisses him.

The universe implodes. That’s what it feels like, anyway. But even if it were the end of all things, she couldn’t stop herself. He smells like pine and musk and his neck tastes like salt and she’s kissing him everywhere, everywhere. He lifts her and she wraps her legs around his waist and he has one arm around her waist and one hand under her ass and his fingers are stroking the outside of her thigh and she thinks if he’s not inside her in the next minute, she’ll just die.

He laughs and she realizes she said that out loud.

“I think so too,” he says. But he’s still dressed, he’s still wearing all his goddamn clothes, and she tugs at his shirt until he takes the hint and drags it over his head. She lets go and works on the button of his jeans. His jeans and his boxers come off together when they shove at them, and then he’s less dressed than she is. He kicks off his shoes and the tangle of denim and silk and she undoes her bra because she trusts his competence, but also she doesn’t. Need has made them so, so foolish.

“I want to,” he says, and swallows the rest of his sentence, but he hooks his thumbs into her panties and she lies back and lifts her hips. He skims the fabric down her legs. There’s hunger in his eyes. She lets him look, dropping her knees wide. He swallows hard and crawls up the bed to lie next to her.

“I wanted this to last,” he tells her.

“Me too,” she says. “I thought it would be different.” The light in his eyes dims slightly. He starts to turn his face away and she presses her palm to his cheek and turns it back. “Mulder, no. I wouldn’t change anything about this.”

“You sure?”

For answer, she kisses him, throwing her leg over his hip. Maybe it’s not what she expected. But she’s had years of self-denial, and she’s finished with that. There will be opportunities later for endless foreplay (as if every interaction since their handshake in the basement hasn’t been foreplay) and romance and slow indulgence, but she doesn’t have the patience for that. She’s already reaching for him, already wrapping her hand around his hand around his cock so they work together to guide him in. It’s such a relief that she almost cries, even though she aches as she stretches to accommodate him. And then he’s moving in her and it’s the rhythm of the universe, the pulse of existence. They’re not being safe and she doesn’t fucking care. He’s inside her, he’s touching her, he’s kissing her, and she’s wrapped around him like she can fuse their bodies together.

Every texture of him is a revelation: the hot satiny skin of his cock, the sleekness of his belly, the light fur on his chest. She knows them all and yet. And yet. It’s so different now. She feels the slickness of his lips and the rough friction of his tongue in her mouth and on her skin. It’s everything. Finally, she’s filled up, satisfied, satiated, maybe for the first time in her life. She wants more, oh God, she wants more of him. She wants to live under his ribs like that conjoined twin. She wants her bones jumbled with his. She wants him to fill her every way he can think of. She wants to buy a whole new range of sex toys and treat him just right. But for now, this is enough.

“More,” she says, and he pushes her onto her back without sliding out of her. She spreads her legs wider. He pins her, lacing his fingers into hers and stretching their arms over her head. His hips jolt as he shoves into her, harder and deeper, and she arches up to meet him. Every cell of her body feels like it’s filled with sparks of pleasure; she could map her nerves for him if she still had the power of speech. But he understands her incoherent cries. He always understands her.

She’s whimpering under him, helpless in the throes of her pleasure. The tingling starts in her extremities and washes through her, a tide rising higher and higher. She can feel his muscles tensing. His stomach is trembling. He’s holding back, wanting her to come first. One day, she thinks, she’ll indulge him, urge him to think of himself, but not tonight. She squeezes around him, taunting him. He groans and looks at her. She smirks at him and he growls in his throat. Now it’s a challenge: he has to make her come first, not just wish for it. He doesn’t let go of her, but drags their joined hands down her body. He rubs their fingers against her clit, tight circles that have her gasping. And then she’s coming, her body bucking under his, and he makes her ride it out before he’ll let go.

“Please,” she says, and he thrusts into her shivering body and she wraps her legs around him and holds him so tight as he buries his face in her shoulder and yells. He tries to roll off her right away but she won’t let go. She wants his weight, all of it, and after a moment he surrenders and lets her take it.

“We’re definitely going to fuck in that chair,” she whispers in his ear after a while.

He laughs into the curve of her neck. “We’re definitely going to fuck a lot of places.”

She kisses his ear and he turns his face so that his lips meet hers. “Making up for lost time.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes sparkling. “We haven’t lost anything,” he says. “We’ll make our own time.”

For some reason, her eyes prickle with tears. She kisses him again, threads her hands through his hair. She believes him. Maybe they have a future full of flatpack furniture and charming antiques and lazy mornings in bed. Maybe they can celebrate all their cases like this.

“Let them eat cake,” she says, and he laughs again and holds her close.

#leiascully fic #my fic #msr fic #xfiles fic #the x-files fic

94 notes · View notes

c-e-d-dreamer · 6 months ago

Text

Top Shelf Love: Chapter One

A/N: yeah, yeah, I know! This is super exposition-y, but we have to set it all up, besties! I promise Cassian and Nesta actually interact again in the next chapter 🫡 Also, for anyone who's nerdy like me, the Athletic has a really great article about just how complicated things get when a player gets traded. It's a fun read!

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian

Cassian groans, tossing his phone on the coffee table, the device skittering across the wood without a care. He drops his head against the back of the sofa, digging his hands into his hair and dragging his fingers against the curly strands. He still can’t quite wrap his mind around it, and he half wonders if he’s imagining this entire phone call, but the tinny voice continues through the speaker even if he’s no longer listening.

Seattle.

He got traded to the Seattle Kraken.

The words continue to crash and echo in his mind, even as his agent goes through the usual spiel when trades happen. Expect a call from the coach, maybe even a few players will reach out once the news breaks. The Kraken’s director of team services will reach out with the finer details for a smooth transition. Reminders of the CBA mandates. Meetings with the trainers, the equipment team, and the coaching staff to look forward to. Practice schedule. It’s like information overload, a hurricane swirling through his head with hundred mile per hour winds.

It doesn’t help that his phone has already started to vibrate against the table, almost excessively. With a quiet huff that thankfully his agent doesn’t pick up on, already plowing forward into the exciting potential for re-signing with Seattle, Cassian snatches his phone back up. He minimizes the call screen and looks at his notifications. Of course. The news has already broken on Twitter. Damn ‘insiders.’

“Any questions for me, Cassian? Anything I can do for you?”

Cassian has to shake his head, clearing his still spiraling thoughts, before he finds his voice. “All good, Eris. That’s how the off season goes, right?”

Eris is quiet for a moment. “I’ll send a car to take you to the airport. A nicer one than the team would send.”

With that, the line clicks, and Cassian tosses his phone away again, this time face down. He doesn’t even want to look at what’s being said, at the speculation. Sure, the Rangers hadn’t had the best season, the ending more heartbreak than anything else. Sure, he only has one year left on his contract. Sure, the front office wants draft picks to help build up the farm system with young blood.

But still, Cassian never expected this. Never expected this was how his time with the team would end. Never expected this was how his time in New York City would end.

Sighing softly, he glances around his apartment. The high ceilings, the modern, open kitchen, the tall windows and the amazing skyline view that the thirty-first floor offers. He really did love this place, a far cry from the streets he’d grown up on, and a reminder of how far he'd come from those very streets. He supposes he’ll have to sell it now. Is it worth keeping just for the off season?

The sound of Cassian’s phone ringing is loud in his otherwise quiet apartment. It seems to echo off the walls as though taunting him. He’s half tempted to ignore it all together, but despite the unknown number displayed on the screen when he checks, the location is listed as Seattle. Not the best first impression to send his new team to voicemail. Another sigh and Cassian squares his shoulders, sliding his thumb across the screen to answer.

The man on the other end of the line introduces himself and exchanges a few pleasantries, but then he’s diving right in to more specifics. The nitty gritty of a trade. Flight details. Financials and reimbursements. Rental car when he lands. Taxes.

Cassian only half listens, making sure he makes the affirmative sounds at the appropriate breaks in conversation. This isn’t his first rodeo. Although, he had still been in the farm system when his last trade happened. This is certainly different, but Cassian knows he thankfully won’t have to deal with most of this. He’ll give the director of team services Eris’s number, and let him deal with all the numbers and everything. It’s why he pays him the big bucks after all.

As soon as the call ends, Cassian’s phone lights up and starts ringing again. He wants to pull his own hair out as that incessant sound fills his apartment. He knows how this goes, but he’d give anything for just a moment of peace, a moment to really sit with his thoughts and everything that’s just happened. He considers turning his phone off, letting all the calls go to voicemail, at least for a few hours, but then he sees the name displayed on the screen.

“I take it you saw the news?” Cassian says by way of greeting.

“Need a drink?” Rhysand’s voice carries down the line.

Cassian chuckles, already pushing up to his feet. “You have no idea. But you better be breaking out the good shit from your fancy cellar.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get your ass over here.”

Just the short conversation, the teasing tone of his chosen brother, has Cassian feeling lighter already. He grabs his wallet and shoves it into his pocket, tugging a ball cap down over his curls. Summer still clings to the city despite the first day of fall barely a few days away, but the breeze that dances between the buildings promises cooler temperatures to come. Cassian takes the subway up toward Central Park, the rocking of the car over the tracks strangely a lulling balm over his nerves.

The doorman offers Cassian a nod and a friendly hello in greeting when he arrives at the building, holding the door open for him to stroll inside. The receptionist at the front desk does the same, barely casting Cassian a cursory glance as he heads for the elevators. He quickly punches in the code and steps inside, riding up and up and up, all the way to the penthouse.

Feyre is waiting for Cassian as soon as the elevator doors open, stepping forward and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian chuckles but he wraps his own arms around Feyre’s shoulders nonetheless. “I’m not dying, Fey. I just got traded.”

“I know, but traded across the country,” Feyre continues, pulling back enough that she can peer up at Cassian with an overdramatic pout. “I’m losing my partner in crime. Who will join me in bullying Rhys now?”

“You’re right,” Cassian tells her, nodding his head with faux solemness. “I’m so sorry you’ll be stuck on the east coast all alone with Rhys’s stupid face.”

“Stupid face? And here I broke out the good wine for your sorry ass.”

Cassian tosses his head back and laughs. He steps away from Feyre and walks over to Rhys, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “I expect nothing less.”

Rhys rolls his eyes, but he leads the way into the kitchen, three wine glasses and a bottle already arranged on the large kitchen island. He pours the wine into each glass, but Cassian grabs the bottle, examining the label with an appreciative hum.

“I don’t know why you’re making that sound,” Rhys comments dryly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Who cares about that?” Feyre cuts in, waving a dismissive hand at her fiancé and leaning against the kitchen island, her attention solely on Cassian. “Are you excited for Seattle?”

Cassian hums, swirling his wine around the glass. “They’re definitely building a good team out there. Strong top line. And I’ve heard good things about playing under Miller.”

“But…?”

“There’s no but, it’s just…” Cassian sighs softly, pulling his cap off to run his fingers through his hair. “It just sucks because everyone’s here, out east. You guys are always here or in Montreal. Mor’s here in New York. Even Az isn’t that far in Nashville. I won’t know anyone out west.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have the guys on the team. You know they’ll have all the best spots in town to recommend,” Rhys reminds him.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“My sister lives out in Seattle!” Feyre jumps in to add, blue eyes bright.

Cassian frowns. “Doesn’t Elain live in Toronto with Lucien?”

“Not Elain. My other sister. Nesta. You’ve met her.”

Nesta.

Cassian is sure he’d remember if he met Nesta Archeron. He still remembers when Feyre had posted the photos from Elain’s wedding last month to her Instagram, the way his mouth had slackened at the sight of who he was sure was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. With the purple, silky fabric of the bridesmaid dress clinging perfectly to her every curve, golden brown strands of hair swept away from her face in an intricate updo, she was breathtaking.

But it was her expression in the photos that had really drawn Cassian in. There was something about it. Something about her. Something about the way that even though she was smiling in the photo, there was still a challenge, a dare, burning in her stormy blue eyes and the pinch of her brow. And Cassian had never backed down from a dare. He was sure one look from her had sent many men to their knees, sent them fleeing for the hills before she could cut them down where they stood, but Cassian? Cassian wanted to drive head first into that fire.

“I don’t think I’ve met her,” Cassian offers, but he doesn’t tell Feyre just how much he wishes he had.

“But she was at our engagement party in May,” Feyre continues, but when Cassian only shrugs in response, she merely sighs. “Whatever. The point is that she lives in Seattle. I can give you her number if you want. Then, you’ll at least know someone out there when you get there. And I’m sure she’d be more than happy to show you around.”

Cassian thinks about it. He thinks back to those photos on Feyre’s Instagram, thinks about the photos he had seen when he stalked Nesta’s own Instagram after he clicked the tagged account. Thinks of those stormy blue eyes and the tilt of her lips in a smirk behind the rim of a wine glass. Thinks of the stories Feyre has told him, of the stubborn and fierce older sister who all but eviscerated Feyre’s ex, Tamlin.

“Yeah… yeah, that’d be good. Just so I know someone out there.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta

Nesta sighs softly, but she reaches down, fingers curling beneath cardboard. Her arms protest at the weight, but she hefts the box up, shuffling the few steps to add it to the organized chaos that’s their backroom. For a moment, her attention dances back toward her phone where she left it on another box, but she pointedly left it face down for a reason. She doesn’t need to look at the text messages waiting for her again.

Feyre 1:18pm Remember Cassian? Rhys’ brother that I told you all about? 😉 He’s coming to Seattle! I gave him your number. Show him around for me? Please?

Unknown number 4:43pm Hey, Nesta. This is Cassian. Feyre gave me your number. I’m moving out to Seattle soon. Maybe we can meet up?

“So, let me get this straight. The Cassian is moving to Seattle?”

Nesta snorts softly, peering toward where Gwyn is sprawled across the floor, iPad balanced against her knees. “We’re calling him the Cassian now?”

“I prefer to call him the douchey hockey player,” Emerie comments idly, placing the box in her own arms down. She swipes up the box cutter from the metal shelf to her left, making quick, efficient work of the tape keeping the box closed.

“And are you imagining douchey hockey player’s balls there?” Gwyn teases, looking meaningfully toward the box cutter in Emerie’s grip.

“So what if I am?” Emerie fires back, leaning forward to open Nesta’s box too. “He’d deserve it.”

“I never said he didn’t,” Gwyn laughs, turning her attention back to Nesta. “So, what are you going to do?”

Nesta sighs softly. “I don’t know. Feyre asked me to show him around the city.”

“Doesn’t he have teammates to do that?”

“Ignore him and the request,” Emerie suggests dryly.

Nesta snorts quietly but it quickly turns into a sigh, even as she keeps her hands busy pulling books out of her box. “I didn’t exactly tell Feyre what happened that night.”

She hadn’t told anyone about that night, save her two best friends. She still cringes sometimes when she thinks back to it, the embarrassment burning bright low in her gut, twisting and squeezing between her ribs uncomfortably. She’d sworn that night that she would never give a single thought about Cassian Valdarez ever again, and until today, she’d kept true to that.

She’d spent her remaining days in New York City solely with her sisters, even doing one of the touristy bus tours with Elain to see all the classic sights. And thankfully, Feyre had been more interested in excitedly talking about wedding plans and ideas than continuing her busybody meddling. If either of her sisters noticed anything different with Nesta, they didn’t say anything.

After Nesta had flown back home to Seattle, Emerie and Gwyn came over to her apartment. Drinking a bottle of wine between the three of them, it all had come spilling out of her. Her friends had allowed her to pace and rage, and then that was that. Nesta had washed her hands of the whole thing. Never again did she dare to check the sports news out of curiosity. Never again did she dare to stalk his Instagram. Never again did she think of the stupid face and the stupid smirk of a smile of that hockey player.

“What if you give him a tour of all the worst places in the city?” Emerie suggests, brown eyes practically lighting up at the idea. “Then, maybe he’ll want to leave the city.”

Gwyn’s laugh is bright, red hair tumbling down her back when she tosses her head back. “That is definitely not how sports teams operate.”

“Worth a shot,” Emerie mutters, tossing aside the box packaging in her hands and reaching back in for the books hiding beneath. “Holy shit. We got the new Sellyn Drake novel already?”

Emerie holds up the book in her hand excitedly, showing off the cover. Like so many romance novels these days, it features a faceless, cartoon style couple. The man is shirtless, though, rocking a kilt, while the woman is drawn with a yellow sundress. Looping script above the cartoon characters declares the title, The Scottish High Lord and Me.

“It’s official release date is…” Gwyn starts, squinting down at the iPad and scrolling through whatever is on the screen. “Tuesday, so we’ll want to put them out Monday night after we close.”

Gwyn reaches over toward the metal shelves, swiping up the sticky notes and sharpie sitting there. She scrawls out a note, a reminder of when they’ll need to stock the books, and peels the sticky note free. She slaps it right over the cover of the book in Emerie’s hands, but Emerie is quick to peel it right back off, placing it instead on one of the other copies still in the box.

“Hey!” Gwyn chastises, narrowing her eyes.

“What?” Emerie asks, her tone overly innocent. “This is my copy.”

“Gwyn just said the book doesn’t technically release until Tuesday,” Nesta points out, snorting softly.

“What’s the point of owning a bookstore if we don’t get to read all the best releases early? Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be posting all the spoilers online or anything.”

“Good point,” Nesta agrees, reaching forward as well to grab another of the Sellyn Drake books.

“You both are terrible.”

“Oh, come on,” Emerie teases with a roll of her eyes. “You know you want to read it too.”

“Seriously, Gwyn,” Nesta adds, not even bothering to bite back her smirk as she points to the cover. “It’s a Scottish love interest.”

Gwyn huffs, seemingly determined to hold her ground with her crossed arms and narrowed gaze, but it barely lasts a few seconds. Not quite meeting either of her friends' eyes, the barest hint of a blush beginning to pool in her cheeks, she reaches forward into the box, plucking out another of the books.

Nesta and Emerie glance toward each other, sharing a knowing look, before they both burst out laughing. It feels good to laugh, to have that lightness twining around her limbs and swelling through her chest. It feels good to be squeezed back in this tiny stockroom with her best friends, her chosen sisters. She doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

They were there for her when she hit the lowest point of her life, when she well and truly felt like she hit rock bottom. They were right there beside her in the trenches, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to rage and scream at, a voice of reason and comfort. They didn’t flinch when Nesta snapped and released that swirling storm of emotion within her. They didn’t balk from her every scar, every dark crevice of her soul.

And when Nesta was ready, they helped pull her out.

“And what books are in your box?” Gwyn asks Nesta, pulling her out of her thoughts and back into the present.

Nesta shakes her head before peering into the box at her feet, pushing aside the packaging. “It looks like it’s our restock of that baseball romance that went viral.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Gwyn comments, tapping away at the iPad screen. “We should definitely put those out tonight so they’re ready for tomorrow.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta slumps back against the blankets and pillows of her bed with a soft sigh. She sinks back into the mattress, letting her arm fall over her eyes. There’s definitely a soreness lingering in her biceps from lifting all those boxes, but it was worth it.

When they finished inventory of the latest deliveries, the three of them had moved back into the main shop. Emerie had taken to restocking the shelves while Gwyn took to rearranging the table displays at the front. Nesta had taken to the registers. Math had always been a strong point for her, even when she was back in school, so it was always her job to balance their books. They all worked in perfect tandem until everything was good to go, finally closing up the shop and heading their separate ways back to their respective apartments.

Nesta allows herself another moment to simply lay in bed before hauling herself back up. She grabs the newest Sellyn Drake novel, resituating her pillows and settling back comfortably against them. Her fingers skate along the cover, down over the spine. There’s always been something about holding a fresh book in her hands. The crisp pages, the scent of parchment and ink.

Sliding her palm down the cover once more, Nesta turns to the first page, but her gaze dances away from the words and over to her nightstand. To her phone sitting there. She knows she shouldn’t, but her fingers itch with the urge all the same. With an annoyed huff, Nesta snatches up the device, navigating to her message app and the unread texts there.

Unknown number 7:12pm Did I type in the wrong number? This is Nesta, right?

Unknown number 7:37pm Feyre says this is the right number. Did she tell you I’m moving to the Seattle area? It would be really great if we could meet up!

Unknown number 9:21pm I guess you’re just really busy. My flight gets in Saturday morning, but the team is picking me up to show me around the practice facilities and locker rooms and introduce me to everyone. Maybe we could meet up in the afternoon? I’d be more than happy to buy you dinner 😏

The last message has Nesta rolling her eyes hard. It’s exactly the sort of response she expects from someone like Cassian. All the arrogance and presumptuousness that comes from being a professional athlete. She half wonders how he even fits his ego inside the locker rooms.

Nesta tosses her phone aside and returns to her book. She hasn’t broken her promise yet, and she has no intention of breaking it now. Besides, who needs a hockey player when she has a fictional Scotsman, anyways?

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #top shelf love #hockey Cassian #my fic

109 notes · View notes

slippinmickeys · 7 months ago

Text

Totality

Fiona made me write an eclipse fic.

Scully gently shut the door behind her, the crisp blue duffle with leather handles in her grip; the go-bag she always left in her car, just in case. It had been a just-in case, Mulder had to admit. They’d had to fly to Idaho with no time to pack, and had worked a grueling five days straight on a series of local murders with only enough time to catch maybe four hours of sleep a night and pop into a shabby JC Penneys once for more underwear. They were both overworked, overtired, and their suits–of which each of them only had two–were overworn; ripe with the scents of stale sweat and stale coffee and stale eau de morgue.

Scully looked weary as she handed over the bag to where Mulder stood in front of their rental car’s open trunk.

“How far away is the airport again?” she asked, squinting up at him as he deposited her bag next to his and slammed the trunk closed.

“Only about an hour,” he answered, mentally girding himself for what he was about to tell her. “But, I uh,” he went on, “pushed back our flights to this evening.”

Her posture visibly slumped. “You…what?”

Mulder bit his lip, hoping he hadn’t made a horrible miscalculation. He knew she wanted nothing more than to get home, slide into a hot bath and pull the covers over her head for three straight days. She’d certainly earned it.

“Hop in the car,” he said, moving to the driver’s side door. “I have a surprise.”

He was exhausted himself, his nerves shot. He was running on caffeine and cortisol, his skeleton rattling with every step. But this…she would like this. He was sure of it.

“Mulder,” she said wearily, a whine in her voice that he’d rarely had the opportunity to hear. But she said nothing more and reluctantly dropped into the passenger seat, leaning her head against the headrest and rolling it to look at him beseechingly after she’d clicked her seat belt on.

Mulder turned the ignition and the sedan growled to life under them.

“It’s a good surprise,” he assured her.

She only sighed, and they bumped out of the hotel parking lot and onto town’s main drag, the sun shining on the shabby line of depressing suburbia. Ten minutes and five stop lights later, Mulder pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of a dying mall, the tires popping over stray gravel and broken glass. He cranked the wheel and the car swung over the cracked asphalt in front of a defunct Frederick & Nelson, turning in a reflex angle and stopping when the sun shone in full through the windshield. He killed the engine.

Scully opened her mouth to say something, but he reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a couple scraps of cardboard, handing one over before she could voice a complaint.

It took her a moment to register what he was handing her.

“Eclipse glasses?” she said, sitting up a little in her seat.

Mulder had found the black polymer lenses next to the cash register at a local coffee shop that morning, the bespectacled co-ed working it disinterestedly telling him he could have two pairs for a dollar.

The upcoming eclipse had been in the news recently, but he’d mostly ignored it–back east it would only be partial at best, the path of totality only hitting the Pacific Northwest and parts of Canada. Four murders and a rough case later, he hadn’t given it another thought. Until that morning in the coffee shop.

“We’re in the path of totality here,” he explained. “We’ll only get it for about a minute and ten seconds according to the local newspaper, but I thought you might like to see it.”

A look Mulder couldn’t read crossed over her face and he swallowed.

“The next full eclipse over North America won’t be until 2017,” he went on nervously. “I can probably change the tickets back if you-”

Scully reached out and put a warm hand on his arm, cutting him off.

“I’d love to see it,” she said delicately. “Thank you.”

Despite the dark smudges under her eyes, the soft smile she gave him quieted any lingering apprehension about his decision, and he gave her a smile back.

“I figured we could get on the hood, lean against the windshield,” he said.

“What time does it start?” she asked, popping her wrist out from her sleeve to look at her watch.

“In about five minutes,” he grinned.

Scully fingered the glasses and then opened her car door. Energized, Mulder did the same.

“I ask you to avert your eyes,” he said drolly, putting a hand on the warm hood of the car before awkwardly lumbering his way on top of it, the metal plane thumping loudly under him as it dented to accommodate his weight and then popped back into place.

Scully, opting to watch, looked on primly.

Once he was settled, he held out a hand.

“Milady,” he said, and she settled her warm palm onto his, grabbing on while she put a foot on top of the tire and dexterously swung herself up next to him.

“Nimble,” he complimented her, reluctantly letting go of her hand.

She shrugged and leaned back gingerly against the windshield, mindful of the smear of desiccated bugs across the face of it.

“Here, wait,” Mulder said. He sat up quickly and peeled off his suit coat, rolling it into a ball to tuck behind her head, pillow-like.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“Don’t mention it.”

Mulder could feel something ineffable pass between them. He coughed once awkwardly, and then pressed his eclipse glasses to his face, the sharp cardboard edge digging into the skin behind his ear.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Like a dork,” Scully said, delicately donning her own, in, Mulder hoped, solidarity.

She looked nothing like a dork, Mulder thought, eyeing the sharp lines of her face. She looked like a space girl, sleek and silver, an otherworldly beauty.

He cleared his throat. “So do you.”

Scully’s face was tilted to the sky and he turned to follow her gaze.

“It’s starting,” she said, her voice a little irreverent.

Mulder looked at the sun, dark through polymer lenses of the protective eyewear. The moon was just beginning to edge itself in front of its celestial sister; incremental, pendulous.

Lacking the pillow he’d given Scully, he raised his arms up and bent his elbows, resting his head back against cupped hands. Beside him, Scully breathed serenely. He caught a whiff of his fusty clothing and hoped his jacket had fared better in the olfactory department than his shirt.

They were silent for long minutes, watching the gradual procession of moon across sun. The day was bright but began to take on a verging luminosity, and Mulder raised his glasses up to take a look at the dark shadow of the car under them, which took on an off-putting sharpness against the dusty asphalt.

“What do you think ancient peoples made of solar eclipses?” came Scully’s voice, a little dreamy. “What must they have thought?”

It was an invitation to oratory. A small gift. Mulder smiled.

“Cultures throughout the world had wildly different theories,” he said, and Scully turned her head towards him, her eyes hidden behind the dark lenses. “Most of them, obviously, wildly incorrect.” Despite the fact that he couldn’t see her eyes, her look was encouraging.

“The sun being devoured was popular,” he went on. “From the Norse mythology of Sköll,” at this she smiled. “To Asian cultures like in Java and Vietnam that variously had creatures or monsters swallowing the sun. It was commonly held in ancient China that a celestial dragon attacked and devoured it. Here in the Northwest, the Pomo people’s name for a solar eclipse is ‘Sun got bit by a bear.’”

The bear, Mulder mused, was widening its jaw. It was getting gradually darker, and he could feel the temperature start to dip. He put his glasses back on and looked back at the sun.

“The Inca and Ancient Greek believed eclipses were a sign of a wrathful and unhappy god.”

Scully hummed. “The word ‘eclipse’ comes from the Greek word meaning ‘abandonment.’”

“Right,” Mulder said, “though I think I prefer mythologies of a more solicitous nature.”

Scully raised her glasses to give him a look. “Solicitous?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mulder couldn’t help his grin. “In Australian oral traditions, the moon falls in love with the sun and chases her across the sky. If caught, the sun plunges the world into darkness. Medicine men recite magical chants to combat the evil omen. In German mythology, the sun and the moon are married. One rules the day while the other the night. When the moon is lonely, he’s drawn to his bride and they come together to create a solar eclipse.”

She looked at him frankly. “You know a weird amount about eclipses.”

“I like to impress you.”

“Is this why you were so late getting back to the hotel this morning? Research? My coffee was cold.”

“But are you impressed?”

“I wasn’t impressed by the coffee…”

Mulder gave her a long look, the odd light turning her hair a hazy copper wool.

“I like the German one best,” she finally said, plunking her glasses back on and leaning back to gaze at the sky.

“Me too,” Mulder said.

More long minutes of silence between them with the occasional car whooshing past on the roadway. Mall security drove by them slowly and Mulder gave the rent-a-cop a small salute. It was impossible to see Scully with the glasses on, so he kept taking them off.

“You’re going to permanently burn your macula,” Scully said from beside him, not taking her eyes off the welkin of the heavens above them.

He ran his eyes over the brushstroke of freckles on her nose. She was goddess-like; as luminous as a star. If he was the moon, he’d chase her through the sky, too.

“You lose enough photoreceptors you won’t pass your next firearms recertification.”

He was tempted to tell her that in all the years he’d known her, her shine hadn’t damaged anything but his poor, lonely heart, but pulled his glasses back down and looked to the sun. It was nearly covered.

He sighed and felt her hand reach for his. His heart beat hard once against his sternum.

“You can take them off during the totality,” she said, squeezing. “And should. It’s supposed to be incredible.”

“You ever seen it?” He asked her quietly. She was still holding onto his hand.

“I missed the one in ‘79.”

“Me too,” he said.

Around them, the air had taken on a distinct chill and the light shining down had grown metallic. Next to the car, in the long shadows of the trees along the edge of the mall driveway appeared little crescents. The colors on the mall’s signage dimmed and brightened. Mulder sat up and pulled his glasses off and blinked, shaking his head. The world felt odd, he couldn’t properly adjust his vision. It felt decidedly like the moment after someone takes your picture with a bright flash.

Scully still held his hand and squeezed it.

“It’s called the Purkinje effect,” she said calmly, pulling off her own glasses with her other hand, and looking around with a wondrous smile. “As we near totality and the light dims, our eyes transition from photopic vision–which uses the retina’s cone cells to deliver full colors and fine detail–toward scotopic night vision, which relies on rod cells to detect objects in low light. When the light’s intensity dims in an eclipse, colors with longer wavelengths like red will look darker as the cones become less active. But rods are sensitive to shorter blue-green wavelengths, and those colors will appear to shine. It’s not just you. It’s the rod and cone cells in your eyes trying to make sense of the sudden dimness.”

Scully put her glasses back on and looked up at the eclipse. Mulder felt a surge of something so like love that his eyes burned.

Scully pulled in a sudden inhale of breath.

“The totality,” she said, pulling off her glasses and gazing up. “It’s starting.”

Mulder raised his eyes to the heavens. The world was dusk-like, the stars in the top of the dome of the heavens were winking on. In the bushes nearby, crickets began to chirp.

The eclipse itself was like nothing he’d seen before outside of a big budget movie. The moon was utter blackness, but along the upper edge of the eclipsed sun was a hot pink half-ring that erupted into a single bring spot along the edge of the moon’s shadow like the diamond in a giant engagement ring formed by the rest of the sun’s atmosphere.

And then the flaming plasma of corona as the moon reached complete totality. Second contact. It was a living thing. Streams of white light danced around the ring of the black moon. Scully gasped in pleasure and Mulder couldn’t help but exclaim: “Wow!”

He pulled his eyes from the eclipse itself and looked around. Along the entire horizon, all 360 degrees of it, was in full, brilliant sunset. Everything else was the darkness of post golden-hour. He turned toward his partner and locked eyes with her. Her smile was brilliant, and she held his gaze for only a moment before canting her face back to the eclipse itself.

“This is incredible,” she said breathlessly.

He had found, as the years of their partnership wound on, that their job turned them into ecstatics, subject to mystical experiences. This was perhaps the most transcendent of them all. He would remember the moment forever.

“It is,” he agreed.

A sharp flash, and Scully squeezed his hand.

“Third contact,” she said. “Put your glasses back on.”

He did as she asked, and they leaned back and watched in silence as the moon continued its journey, as the sky relit and the nighttime animals calmed, as the world came back to itself.

Eventually, Scully sat up. The light was still odd, seeming to come almost from inside her, and she lowered her glasses and leaned in to him. For a heady, divine moment, Mulder thought she was about to kiss him, but instead she pressed her cool lips to his cheek, her hair falling down to brush along the skin of his jaw.

“Thank you, Mulder,” she said, and then straightened, the cool air rushing to fill the space she’d just been.

“You’re welcome, Scully,” he said, his voice a little rough. He lowered his glasses slowly and watched her slide off the hood of the car, watched her stretch and smile to herself; a Mona Lisa grin gently stretching the planes of a face with the same faultless symmetry of the celestial bodies sliding across the sky.

#the x files #fanfic #my fic #ficlet #prompt #msr #please forgive the scientific/historical/canon inaccuracies #i really should have been working

85 notes · View notes

livfastdieyoung69 · 7 months ago

Note

hi!!! love your work. was wondering if you could write a randy orton x fem!reader where the reader gets real sick before a big PPV and has a main event match at the PPV, so she gets stubborn and tries to wrestle anyways but randy keeps telling her otherwise? would love some fluff, but angst can also be sprinkled in <3

A BITTERSWEETNESS TO THE AIR

The royal rumble is a huge deal for the entire roster of WWE, no matter which part of it you were on. Everybody wanted to be in it, because anybody truly had a chance to have their Wrestlemania moment, something everyone in the entire wrestling industry seemed to yearn for.

This year, you had gotten a spot- a good one too, number 22. Also this year, you seemed to coincidentally come down with the worst cold to have ever graced this earth the night before.

Racked with shivers all night- thank god Randy had been on Smackdown the night prior and had to go on a different plane, landing in an airport halfway across the state. By the time your sore throat forced you up, Randy was already driving to the arena in the cheapest rental car available. And with no Randy, that meant no one to hold you accountable for bad decisions. Not that he made very good decisions all the time, but at least he usually stopped your bad ones.

So here you were, driving to the arena- shaky hands, tired eyes and all. Luckily it wasn’t much of a drive, you had booked a pretty close hotel to the arena, but not close enough for it to be expensive. Pushing out of the driver's seat of your own cheap rental and slamming the door shut, blurred vision and congested sinuses quickly making you stumble and pause for a bit in your spot, gripping onto the side of the car for support. After the small pause, you unlock the trunk and heave the couple duffle bags with much more difficulty than you should’ve had.

With a tight smile, you thank the staff members holding the door open with a raise of your hand.

”Ready for a long night?” The staff member asked from behind you, still standing by the door, now closed. Surprised by the sudden voice, you turn back and raise your eyebrows in their direction. Your ears ached and ringed as they repeated their question.

”Oh, yeah! Yeah, definitely. Long but worth it.” You answered, voice much more nasally than usual as you smile at them. They were quick to become concerned at the sound of your voice, asking if you were all right. You nodded quickly.

“Just a small cold- some warm tea and lemon, and I’ll be alright.” With another tight smile and nod, wishing them luck in their work for the night, you followed the arrows directing you to the lockerrooms.

“Hey!” A voice cheerfully calls, your name sounding after. With a want to do nothing else but sit down for even just five seconds you reluctantly turn from the door, shoulders dropping as you put on a small smile for the sweet, smiling girl.

”Hey, Molly.” You say, trying not to sigh through your words. Much like the former staff member, Molly Holly seems to notice your sickness as soon as you talk.

“Oh Jeez, are you sick? But you’re in the rumble!” She exclaimed, somehow still happy through all of her worry.

“I’m fine, promise. Really.” You ramble off the same excuse used on the other staff member, but it didn’t seem to work as well on Molly Holly. She reluctantly nodded, taking a step back from you.

”…Alright. Y’know Randy’s here, I just saw him a second ago! I can grab him if you want?” Before Molly was even able to finish, you were rapidly shaking your head, eyes grown wide.

“Oh, no no no,” You shook your hands out in front of you, an awkward chuckle falling from your lips. “No, that's ok. He’s-hes busy and I gotta get ready and…stuff.” With another awkward chuckle and a stumbled, quick goodbye you pushed into the locker room, leaving Molly very confused in the hallway.

Sitting in the first available spot that met your eyes and beginning to rummage through your duffle bags, your other fellow superstars looked on anxiously at your state. With much trouble, you began the hard process of ring gear (specially made for the royal rumble and even more troublesome than usual) and just about gave up halfway through before declaring it was time to take a break, half dressed.

Falling back against the lockers you sat against and closing your eyes with a sigh in your half-clothed state, the door practically rips from the hinges.

”Randy!”

”You can’t be in here, what the hell!”

”Oh my god!!”

Screams tore through the locker room, all of which Randy seemed to ignore. He marched his way towards your form, now leaning up on your elbows and trying your best to look up at him through sore eyes.

“May I help you there?”

“Yes,” He stated, quite aggressively, tagging your name on. “You can. Why the hell did you not tell anyone you’re sick?” Rolling your eyes with a groan, you sat up against the back of the locker.

”Randy, I think I can make it through a cold for a chance at a title at Wrestlemania.” Looking up at him with a snarky look as he moved a bit closer, gently taking the back of your neck in one hand and holding the palm of his other against your forehead, he exclaimed your name.

”You’re fuckin’ burnin’ alive, baby, christ!” He pulled you in closer to him, resting your head to his stomach. The relief of all of his cold against your warm face, your eyes close with the first good sigh of the day.

“You’re just cold from walkin’ around in a speedo all day long, weirdo.” You mutter (even though you also have no pants on), leaning into his warmth. The hand on the back of your head starts to stroke your head, your own hand moving to rest of his leg. Randy ignores your comment, shaking his head down at you before he starts to speak, starting with your name in a warning tone.

“We’re going to go see the medics.” You look up at him with a glare but he gives you a scornful look with raised eyebrows, stopping you from speaking.

“And you’re going to take some medicine. Then I’m going to go talk to someone and get you out of the rumble.” Randy spoke as softly as it seemed he could, knowing how much it would suck to be in your position. Unable to find any words you only close your eyes again and rest your forehead back against his stomach.

“Okay?” He asks. You nod against him, whispering an okay back. He plants a soft kiss to the top of your head before moving away and grabbing the pair of sweatpants you had just taken off to help you put them back on. He walks you down the halls as you sulk, rubbing your shoulder through the itchy material of the top of your ring gear.

The doctor was quick to declare you not healthy enough to compete (as if it wasn’t already obvious) and moved onto their next patient from the match that had just ended quite shortly, leaving you to sulk further on top of the cushioned table.

“I’m telling you this with all of the love in my heart,” Randy started, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you to him. Your head finds his shoulder with a soft bump, breath meeting his neck. “You wouldn’t have won in the condition you’re in. You could barely walk here, you’ve got the highest fever I’ve ever goddamn heard of. You wouldn’t have won.” He pauses, holding you close to him. “But next year,” With another pause he puts his hands on either side of your face, bringing your forehead to his. Noticing the glare of tears framing your eyes, his hands grasp softly at your head, giving you a small, playful shake. “Next year, you’re gonna rock them out of the fucking park, baby. You hear me?” He asks with a little smirk. With a wavering smile and a couple sniffles, you give him a small nod, barely noticeable. He pulls you back into his chest with a hand moving to hold you close once more. With a choked sob, you bury into his shoulder with hands grasping at his back.

“I know.” You muffled into his shoulder, the both of you rocking back and forth. “I know, this just sucks. So fuckin’ much, n now I have to wait a whole ‘nother year, n I’ve already waited so, so fucking long, Randy.”

He pulls you from his neck, placing your head to his, cheek-to-cheek. He nods, almost forcing you to do the same against him. “Yeah. Yes, it's terrible, but this is just the universe saying not yet. And next year, you’ll be better, and nothing will ever stop you. Nothin’, so let's get this cold gone, okay?” Randy pulls away from you for the final time to help you off the table with an offering hand.

Taking his hand in yours, you walk back to the locker room to grab your stuff with your head held high and a small smile but tear-filled eyes. Laying against a disgusting and sort of scratchy sofa somewhere backstage, Randy leaves you to compete in the royal rumble very bitter sweetly, and you try to sleep with many thoughts clouding your mind- to find a way to be better, to be the best, to grow as an individual outside and inside of wrestling. A smile graces your face with one final thought- these people better be fucking ready next year, cause they sure as hell weren’t this one.

look at me go! sorry this took me so long but also i used you instead of y/n for the first time and i feel like my frontal lobe has developed (it absolutely has not) and omg not molly holly ratting you outttt

Set in 2004 idk y i just chose a year and i felt like that one ig

Techincally gender-neutral bc everything I write is, but a bit of a nod to being afab with randy not being wanted in the locker room.

#randy orton x reader #liv writes;*!#randy orton #wwe #wwf

77 notes · View notes

vanfleeter · 3 months ago

Text

Black Smoke: Chapter 8 - Green With Envy

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!reader Warnings: 18+ as always. Fluff. Mentions of pregnancy. Angst. Insecurities. Anger. Jealousy. Arguments. Crying. Hurt feelings. Apologies. Flirting. Smut. Sexual acts. Penetrative sex. Oral sex (f receiving). Fingering. Nude photography.

Black Smoke Masterlist

The wind was chilly in the early morning, nearing four weeks after arriving home from Michigan. You adjusted the cap on your head after closing the trunk door of Jake’s jeep. Your stomach growls and you pout and whine. Jake peers around the corner of the jeep with his eyebrows creased together. “What are you whining about?”

“I’m hungry..” Shaking his head, he walks away and goes to the driver door. “Can we please stop and get some food on the way to the airport?” You ask when you climb into the jeep and close the door.

“We can eat when we get to the airport.” He says as he starts the engine. “We’re already running behind schedule.” You huff, making him chuckle and he puts the vehicle in reverse and drives off to the airport.

Making it to the airport and getting through security, Jake leads you through the crowded terminal and to your gate before dropping his backpack and yours to the floor. You hold out your hand, pouting your lip and he sighs rolling his eyes. “You literally ate this morning, how are you hungry again?” He says as he hands you his credit card. You simply shrug your shoulders and take the card from his hand. “Bring me back a coffee!” He calls as you’re walking away.

The second you step into the nearest cafe, you can smell the food cooking and it makes your stomach churn, but the food on the menu board looks really good. Ordering yourself a couple breakfast sandwiches and extra one for Jake just in case, you also order his coffee before making your way back through the terminal and to the spot where you had left him at the gate.

“Geez,” Jake chuckles when he spots the food in your hand and the two coffees.

“I hope it tastes better than smells,” You say as you pull out one of the sandwiches and hand it to him.

He cautiously sniffs it and shrugs his shoulders before pulling apart the wrapper and taking a bite. The action alone makes your stomach church again and you grimace at your own sandwich. Luckily it does taste better than it smells.

An hour passed and you were finally boarding the plane to head off to New York before boarding an international flight to London. By the early morning, the flight landed in London. Jake quickly dropped your stuff off the airport before taking a rental car to the studio.

“Mr. Kiszka!” The studio manager exclaims as he greets Jake with an open armed hug. He smiles widely at you. “And you must be the future Mrs. Kiszka,” He says, pulling you into a hug as well. “It is such a pleasure to be working with you, Mr. Kiszka. I’ve seen your work and it is absolutely amazing. I definitely believe you are the right fit to take on this job.”

“Thank you,” Jake says with a slight chuckle. You’ve learned since being with him that he sometimes gets a little flustered when complimented. It was something you found endearing.

“Well, let’s head on back and meet your model for these next few days,” The manager says as he begins to lead you through the studio and towards the back dressing rooms. Knocking on a door, a woman’s voice calls, allowing you to enter and he pushes the door to reveal the most gorgeous woman sitting on a chair in front of a large mirror while the makeup artist is dabbing on a little powder.

“Angelica, I would love to introduce you to Jake Kiszka. He’s going to be our photographer for the next few days for this shoot.”

Angelica smiles and excuses herself from the artist and stands up from the chair. If you were already insecure over just seeing her face, you’re definitely even more insecure when you see just how perfect her body is too. Perfectly sculpted body and toned abs. Surely Jake would find her attractive and that sends a nervous vibe through your body.

“Jake!” She smiles and immediately pulls him in for a hug. “I am so happy to be working with you! Oh I’ve seen your work and I have to say that it is phenomenal. When they told me you'd be the photographer for this shoot, I was so excited. Still am!”

Instinctively your eyebrows crease when you see his cheeks flush red and he stammers over his next sentence that falls from his mouth, “Th-Thank you Angelica. I’ve been looking through your portfolio to gain some idea of what seems to work best for you and I have to extend the same compliment. You’re very beautiful and you’re definitely right for this shoot.”

“Well thank you, Jake.” She giggles. Angelica’s attention turns to you and you can just tell the smile is fake as soon as she looks at you. “Hi! Oh my gosh, I’m being so rude. You must be Jake’s assistant.”

“Oh uh, no–”

“She’s my fiancée,” Jake interjects. “Angelica, meet (Y/N).”

“Oh! Fiancée! How exciting! Congratulations!”

“Well, we’ll let you finish getting ready while Jake gets his gear set up.”

“Of course! I’ll see you there!” Angelica gives Jake a wink before going back over to the chair and sitting down to finish getting her makeup down. Jake reaches for your hand and tugs you from the room.

He had been putting his camera together and changing the settings to ones he would need for the indoor portion of the shoot. “Okay, I am ready!” Angelica announces as she walks into the room. She dressed in a very revealing top and a pair of tight skinny jeans. You notice Jake glance up and fumble with the camera in his hands, nearly dropping. He clears his throat and awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. You thought your scoff was quiet but Jake heard because he’s turning to look at you.

“What?”

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. “Nothing..” You say as you lean back in the chair that was provided for you.

“Jakey, how do I look?” Angelica calls as he fluffs her hair.

Jakey?

Who the fuck does she think is that she can him that?

“Jakey?” You mutter.

Jake shoots you a look. A warning look. He’s warning you? She’s the one trying to flirt with him and you get the warning look? If you weren’t starting to boil from jealousy already, you definitely are now.

“You look great,” Jake responds with his eyes still focused on you. You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Do you mind getting seated on the couch? Make yourself comfortable.”

“Anything for you, Jakey.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes when Jake’s eyes look back at you to make sure you weren’t doing anything wrong. You give him an innocent smile and he scoffs with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The whole shoot had you on edge. She would constantly call him ‘Jakey’, occasionally calling him ‘Sir’ and giggling when his cheeks flushed red. When he’d go up to fix her hair in the way he wanted it to look, she’d take that as an opportunity to fidget with the pendants on his necklace and compliment him on how cool they are after he explains which one is.

Is he purposely doing this to get under your skin? To test how far he can let this go before you explode?

He did catch you a few times rolling your eyes and sending you the same warning look. “Would you stop it?” He says coming up to you after calling for a break.

“Stop what?”

“Stop rolling your eyes–”

“Well–”

“And stop scoffing–”

“But–”

“None of her flirting means anything.”

“Tell that to your red cheeks, Jake.”

“You’re embarrassing me, stop it.”

Woah. Pause. Did he.. You’re embarrassing him? “Wow..” You breathe as you slide out of the chair. “This has gone from a photoshoot to flat out flirting. She’s always calling you ‘Jakey’, gross. And ‘Sir’? I’m sorry but there’s one person who can call you that, and that person is me.”

“(Y/N), it means nothing to me.”

“Well tell that to your dick,” You whisper-yell to him. “You think it isn’t noticeable? Gosh, Jake, you fucking fumbled your camera when she came out dressed in that outfit.”

Jake takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and exhaling. “Go back to the hotel.”

“What?”

“I said, go back to the hotel. You’ve been so rude all morning and I’m tired of it.”

“I’m being rude?” You shake your head and grab your coat and purse. “Have you seen the way she talks down to me? It’s so condescending and you haven’t even noticed. But whatever, I guess I’m the one being rude.”

“Just go and take a nap. You’ve been up for so long and it’s making you crabby.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the key for the rental car. “Here, take the car.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll get a taxi or something after we wrap up.” He gives you a kiss on the forehead and a light tap on your ass. “We’ll talk after I get back and after you’ve slept.”

Getting back to the hotel and up to the room, you toss your things onto the couch before going into the bedroom where you proceed to change into something more comfier. Standing in front of the mirror, you slowly lift up your shirt to look at your midsection. How can you compete with her? She has the perfect body and she’s fucking beautiful. Why wouldn’t he be attracted to her?

Of course he’s attracted to her, he got fucking hard just looking at her. He hasn’t felt that way towards you since the two of you got back to Nashville. He hasn’t even touched you since either. When was the last time you two were ever intimate? Was it really in his old bedroom at his parents’ house?

You didn’t realize you were crying until you looked up in the mirror. Your eyes grow red and your chin wobbles. Pulling your shirt back down, you turn away from the mirror and walk over to your suitcase to retrieve your earbuds. Music might be a good distraction and get your mind off of today.

It was nearly midnight in London by the time Jake finally came back to the hotel. And suddenly you are sent down the road of jealousy and anger when you see him as he walks into the bedroom. You give him a short glance before going back to scroll through social media on your phone.

“I figured your nap would have made you feel a little better.” He says as he sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his shoes.

“I’m not tired, if that’s what you mean..” You say, not taking your eyes away from your phone. “Did she flirt with you any more after I left?”

“(Y/N)..” Jake sighs.

“Well did she?”

His shoulders drop and he turns to face you. “Yes..” Your only response was a simple nod of your head. “It means nothing.. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Until your dick stops hardening for her.”

“Would you knock it off?!” He finally shouts as he stands to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Jake! But it hurts, you know.” You toss your phone down on the bed and stare at him. “You seem so attracted to her.”

“But I’m not!”

“Yes you are, Jake.” You sigh. “And it’s fine, I get it. I don’t look like her. She’s fucking beautiful and her body..”

“Baby,” Jake kneels onto the bed and crawls over to you, his face just centimeters from your face. “You are beautiful.”

“But I don’t have her body, Jake.”

“So?” He rested back on his knees with his hands laying on his thighs. “Why does it matter if you have her body or not? I love your body.” Your bottom lip quivers and you lower your chin. “Hey look at me.” He says as he reaches towards you and lifts your chin back up. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because..” Your voice is shaky. “The way you looked at her today.. You haven’t looked at me like that since we got back from Michigan.”

“Just because you don’t see me looking at you, doesn’t mean that I’m not ever looking at you.”

“We’ve not been intimate either..”

“I have no excuse, really..” He sighs. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still attracted to you. So what if you don’t have a supermodel’s body. I still love you.” He reaches for your arms and pulls you onto his lap. “You’re still so beautiful to me.” He gives you kisses before leaving a trail of them down your neck.

“Jake..”

“Shh..”

“Jake, stop..” You push away from him, crawling off his lap and moving away from him. “I don’t want pity sex..”

“Pity sex?” He questions. “Is that what you think it was going to be?”

“Yes, because you feel sorry and I don’t want to feel like you have to have sex me because I said that. I want you to have sex with me because you want to and because I’m sexy.”

“But I do want to.”

“No, you don’t..”

“Baby, yes I do!” He crawls over to the edge of the bed and holds your face in his hands. “I always want to have sex with you!”

Tears escape down your cheeks and you push him away again. “Then why haven’t you for the last month, Jake?! But the second Angelica steps out in that top revealing her boobs and her jeans were so tight, you were totally into that! She turned you on, dammit! I haven’t done that to you in weeks!” More tears fell down your cheeks. “How can we get married when I don’t make you feel like that anymore?”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry that I ever made you feel this way..” He tries to reach for you again but you take a step back. “(Y/N)..”

“Just go find Angelica.. At least you won’t pity her..” You quickly go into the bathroom and close the door behind you and twist the lock.

Geez, why do you have to be so emotional? You’ve never cried this much. Leaning against the sink, you slowly rock back and forth as you breathe in deeply and exhaling at a slow pace. And your anger? Jealousy? You’ve never been jealous because you’ve never had a reason to be jealous.

A gentle knock sounds on the door before Jake speaks. “(Y/N).. I’m sorry.. I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but I want to make you feel better. I want to fix this. Please open the door.” He went quiet for a minute or two before speaking again. “I want to make love to you, and not out of pity. I want to make love to you because I do love you. I really do. I want to kiss you in all the right places, I want to touch you until you’re squirming beneath me. Please let me prove to you that I love you.”

Wiping your hands across your face, you go over to the door and unlock it before pulling it open. He stands there with the most sorrowful look that you’d ever seen on his face. He doesn’t move as you wrap your arms around his torso and rest your head against his chest. Slowly he moves his arms around you and holds you close.

“I’m sorry..” You whimper. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me..”

“It’s okay..” Jake says as he rubs his hand up and down your back.

“Jake?”

“Hm?”

You lift your head to look at him. “I love you.”

He smiles and raises his hand to your face to brush your hair behind your ear. “I love you too.” He moves slightly closer, his lips just barely brushing against yours. “Can I kiss you?” He asks.

“Yes..”

He smiles before he presses his lips to yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you press your body closer to his as the kissing begins to heat up. His hands find their way back to your waist and he rests them on your hips before he’s pressing your body up against his. Bending slightly, he picks you up off the floor and sets you on his waist and carries you back to the bed where he lays you down.

He pulls away from you long enough to remove his shirt before kissing you again. You can feel him growing hard beneath the fabric of his jeans and he grinds himself against your core. With your permission, he slowly addresses you and kisses every inch of your body as he goes.

As much as he desires to bring you pleasure, he longs to make love to you even more. He settles himself between your legs and kisses you before pushing himself inside of you. You gasp from the sting, fully aware of how long the two of you have not been like this. He moves slowly, allowing you ample time to adjust to him again.

“Jake..”

“(Y/N)..”

“I think I might be pregnant..”

He slows his pace before coming to a stop and he props himself up just enough to really look at you. “What makes you think that?”

“Just a feeling..” You say. “I’ve never been this emotional before.. And the airport? The food made me so queasy. And then suddenly I'm a raging, jealous bitch only to burst into tears and feel so bad.. I’m supposed to get my period in a couple days but.. If I’m late..”

“Then let’s hope you are.”

“If I am, are you for sure okay with that?”

“Of course I am,” He leans to kiss you before gently thrusting his hips forward.

He starts to move again, still gentle but passionate. Soon he’s bringing the both of you to your climaxes. The warm feeling takes over your body as you feel the two of you melding together. He’s resting his head on your shoulder, him breathing heavily as you softly run your fingers through his hair. When the two of you relax, he carefully pulls out of you and goes off to the bathroom to retrieve a wet washcloth to clean you both off.

He can’t help but to kiss way down your leg when he finishes and tosses the cloth off the side, no doubt that he’ll probably be using it again here shortly. Making it to your inner thigh on your right leg, he sets it back down on the bed before starting on your left leg. He licks his tongue through your folds, earning a light gasp from you. He looks up to find you looking down at him with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. He smiles and places a kiss to your still sensitive clit before he kisses his way up your body. Coming up your abdomen and to the valley your breasts, he pauses and pulls away slightly.

He puts on his thinking and rubs his chin with his index finger and thumb. “Hmmm..” He hums. “Which one do I want?” He shrugs shoulders and leans back down to envelope your right nipple in his mouth while he palms your left one in his hand and gently massages it.

He leaves your left breast and slides his hand down your body, first squeezing your hip and then dipping his hand between your legs. Though he probably could have done this first, he missed being intimate with you just as much as you had, so he couldn't help but dive straight into the fucking. Or love making, actually.

And he’ll do it again too. To hell with the foreplay. He loves being shoved so deep inside of you and nudging all the right places just so he can hear those little sounds you make when he does.

He pauses the circular motion of his fingers on your clit and releases your right breast from his mouth. Pulling away completely, he climbs off the bed and goes over to his things on the other side of the room and retrieves his personal camera.

“For my eyes only,” He says as he turns it on.

Instantly popping up, the last photo he took with his camera was one of you that he snapped without you noticing. You were fully naked and walking in the direction away from the camera. Your arms were raised as you were stretching and lifting your hair just slightly. He zoomed in on your ass, biting his bottom lip as he stared at the red hand print visible from when he smacked your ass as he pounded himself into you. That was the night before the two of you took off for Paris. After coming home late that night, he still felt a little twinge of remorse for missing the dinner date and he knew presenting you with the trip to Paris was not going to fully make up for it. So he fucked you, there was no love making it. He did everything to pleasure you, even when you begged him to be rough on you.

You missed him so much then as much as he missed you. He remembers having you on your hands and knees and he was railing himself into you, not worried about the pain you might be in the next day. He was fully prepared to have to carry you around if he needed to. The smack of his palm against your ass has the blood rushing to his cock.

But he’s being pulled from that memory when he hears you calling his name and the warmth of your hand enveloping his cock. “Are you looking at her photos?”

“If by her, you mean you? Then yes.” He turns the camera to face you showing the naked photo of you. He winks at you and kisses your forehead. “That night was amazing.” He pulls away from you, the warmth of your hand leaving his cock as he sinks down to the mattress and spreads his legs. “Pop a squat.” When you have yourself straddling his waist, he looks into the mirror and adjusts your legs around his body until he has them just the way he wants them. “Perfect.”

He lays your head on his shoulder and moves your hair to the right spot. When he is satisfied with how the two of you look in the mirror, he brings his camera up, blocking both of your faces with it, and snapping a few photos.

“We look so good together,” He says as he looks through the photos. He lowers the camera and looks at you. “You are stunning and I couldn’t be luckier.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” He pecks your lips and sets his camera off to the side as he deepens the kiss. “And if you are pregnant? I would definitely be the luckiest man in the world.” He topples you both over and reaches above you to flick off the lamp.

______________________________________________________________

If you are not already on my general tag list and would like to be added, please let me know!! ♡ (apologies if your user is not highlighted, tumblr doesn't like to highlight all of them for some reason)

@watchingover-hypegirl @losfacedevil @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @writingcold @jaketlove @mackalah @lexii-nv-c @em-gvf01 @katiegvf @joshkiszkaenthusiast @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasmommy @objectsinspvce @gvfmarge @heckingfrick @bluemeadows77 @laneygvf @sacredmachine @gvfpal @killerqueengvf @jaketlover @jordinlkiszka @alwaysonthemend @hellowgoodbye @anythingforjtk @hi-hi-hello11 @anthemofgvf @gretasfallingsky @songbirds-sweet @wildbluesorbit @klarxtr @stardustsecret @sunandthemoontwinflames @everyglowinthetwilightknows @devilat-thedoor @sparrowofthedawnsworld @josh-iamyour-mama @dannys-dream @peaceloveunitygvf @dayumclarizzel @thetroublegetssoloud71 @jakebrainrot @gretavanfleetmichelle @hollyco @its-interesting-van-kleep @tinydancer40 @edgingthedarkness @i-love-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @katuschka @sammysstolenbirks @asendingtothestarsasone @fleetingjake @emojakekiszka @literal-dead-leaf @klarxtr

#black smoke #photographer!jake #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #gvf

35 notes · View notes

zofeurae · 3 months ago

Text

0 notes

soubi122 · 1 year ago

Text

How Long? - Part 5

Warning! Manipulation, mentions of pregnancy, thoughts of baby trapping, fear, angst, anxiety, possessive Ran.

Three more chapters left!

Last Flight

Sitting on the cold floor reminded you of how much you hated this feeling. The feeling of falling, the feeling of fear, panic and helplessness. “Pack your things…” Ran repeated his words with less enmity. It was supposed to be a relief but he made you feel just the opposite. You didn’t know whether or not he’d lose it again.

Packing a carry-on with the essentials, you bid your home a silent farewell, not sure if you’d even make it back alive. This was the one place you thought no one would find you. On the complete opposite end of the country, in a small town and away from the city - you were free. Free to live your life quietly and peacefully, away from the blood, turf wars, drugs and sleazy men and women. It was a good two and half years.

The drive to the hotel was quiet, as much as the scene was to die for, you couldn't help but feel anxious. Ran kept his hand on your thigh, almost as if he was afraid that you’d jump out of the car at any moment. A little paranoid, no?

When you arrived at the hotel, you could see the woman at the front desk straighten up and unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse. She had no idea what this man was capable of. Her pretty smile dropped when she saw you come up from behind Ran. “Welcome back sir. Did you find what you were looking for?” She asked while fluttering her expensive lashes. He waved her off and proceeded to call the elevator. Ran didn’t even look in her direction and it made the woman pout. If only he could have been like this to all the women when he was taken. Perhaps you should have let her take him, he might have actually proven you right - once a cheater always a cheater.

Opening the door to his room, you were met with an abundance of papers and maps. This looked like the room of a serial killer or a conspiracy theorist. He proceeded to throw away all the scattered materials and packed his belongings. While waiting, you built up the courage to speak. “Ran, I will book a hotel when we land.” You say with hopes of him understanding. “No, it’s safer if you stay with me.” He said without even looking at you, he was adamant about not letting you go. “I think it’s best not to draw any attention, I don’t want anyone to start investigating and potentially endanger Bonten.” It was a valid argument, with Bonten being under constant surveillance and with you being dead, it made sense to stay away temporarily. “I don’t care, you’re not-” He began to protest but you cut him off with two reasons that made his blood run cold. “I’m dead, remember? Besides, Mikey will really kill me if Bonten gets involved in my murder investigation.” Shit, you were right. You were always right. With a heavy sigh, Ran drooped his shoulders in defeat. “Promise me you’ll let me stay somewhere else.” It was hard to say yes to that question. He wanted to keep you with him, what if you decide to run away again? What if someone recognizes you? However, you evaded him and everyone else for 3 years - you must already know how to avoid detection. “I promise.”

After checking out of the hotel and dropping off the rental, you and Ran were waiting at the airport for the flight to commence boarding. Many couples strolled by, many were on their honeymoon or returning from a family vacation and had kids with them. Seeing and hearing how these couples interacted with each other, it made you nauseous. Especially while sitting next to the man that single handedly destroyed your life. This could have been you and Ran if he wouldn’t have cheated on you. The thought of having a child with him broke your heart. Biting back the tears in your eyes, you looked down at your cell phone, pretending to have gotten a notification or some sort. You knew what life was like with him, but how would have it been if he stayed loyal, would you be raising a child now or would you be the wife of a man who has several mistresses? The thoughts were eating away at you and Ran could tell that you were beginning to fidget in your seat.

“Now boarding flight 757 to Tokyo. Now boarding flight 757 to Tokyo - Narita Airport.” The woman on the intercom said. Thank goodness - you couldn’t stand a second more of this awkward silence between you and Ran. The flight was about 3 hours long, luckily Ran had gotten decent seats but oh how the gods love to fuck with you. A couple with a baby was seated in front of you, the baby looked to be about 1 year old and their chubby little cheeks made your heart melt. They were considered a lap passenger so the baby was in the couples’ arms at all times. You could tell that they were first time parents.

The plane was in the air and your journey back to Tokyo began. During the flight, you remained quiet and avoided any conversation with Ran or the flight attendants. Mid flight the baby began to cry, however, the mom was not there. The flight attendant returned to inform the father that the wife was in the bathroom pumping. You could kind of see the panic in the father’s face as they weren’t used to having the baby cry. He would turn around and look back to see if the mother was coming back but she was still pumping in the bathroom. The neighboring passengers were getting a little irate about the baby’s continuous cries.

“Remind me to get first class tickets next time.” Ran mumbled under his breath, he too was getting annoyed. Of course, those who have never dealt with children will have zero patience with them or anybody else. Seeing how he would grip his thighs or message his temples - he was slowly losing it. As someone who had friends that were nursing, you knew pumping could take 15-20 minutes. Just as Ran was about to open his mouth, you stood up and crossed over him, surprising him - just what the hell were you doing?

Lightly tapping on the man’s shoulder you asked if he needed any help with the baby. “Oh, she’s just hungry - her mother should be back shortly.” He said sheepishly, but you could see the pink blush on his face from being flustered and embarrassed. He didn’t know what to do. The baby’s sudden wailing made the father even more flustered. “May I?” You asked and extended your arms for the baby. The man handed the baby over to you, you positioned the baby against your chest and had their little head rest on your shoulder. Softly patting the baby’s thigh and setting them - the sound of your heartbeat and rhythmic movements helped to calm the baby down. The soothing patting went in sync with your heartbeat. It’s all about the angle and rhythm - “T-Thank you so much. ” The father said and smiled. It was the first time he'd seen someone other than his wife put the baby to sleep.

The movements and patting was also soothing to you. For a moment, you forgot where you were and who was by you. Ran's eyes never left you, he saw how you handled the baby so gently and just how powerful a woman could be in moments like this. The smile on your face was warm and delicate like the morning sun. That baby in your arms was lucky to be held against your chest, to be held in the arms of a loving and beautiful woman.

Warmth began to blossom inside of his chest. Seeing you like this, with a child in your arms… It made him want to plant his seed, let it take root and grow in your womb. He knew you'd nurture and care for it, a beautiful little boy or girl would be born out of love. They'd be surrounded by two loving parents and uncles who would treat them like one of their own. Ran was starting to imagine how you'd be while decorating a nursery with a swollen belly and a smile on your face. A real smile…

"Umm…excuse me." The sound of the mother's voice snapped both you and Ran out of your little bubbles. "Oh, I'm sorry - it just looked like he really needed help." You say softly. Once the mother handed over the pump and bottles to her husband, you began to hand over the child to her. "Here's your little one back." She smiled and thanked you for helping them. You excused yourself and took your seat next to Ran. The flight attendant came over to thank you for stepping in and also to thank you on behalf of the other passengers. It doesn’t really take much to be kind.

Ran slowly tried to reach out to hold your hand but was reminded of the very hands that were wrapped around your neck. He stopped himself midway before you could notice. The solemn look on your face made him regret his actions. If things didn't pan out the way they did, perhaps you'd be leaning against his shoulder and touching your belly - signaling that it was time. He truly wanted to be happy with you. Perhaps there was a way to keep you here with him, permanently...

The flight continued in silence between you two. Once the plane landed and passengers were allowed to exit, the couple turned around and thanked you once more. The baby made cooing noises and smiled, she looked happy. Such innocence and bliss - it made you subconsciously rub your belly. This didn't go unnoticed by Ran. Maybe there was a chance to change your futures after all. Just maybe he can try to smooth things over with you after you meet up with everyone, they might just welcome you with open arms and - wait…that’s not how they’d react. Reality hit him square in the face, you faked your death and went into hiding with help of Bonten’s leader. Traitors were subjected to severe punishment. Negotiating the terms of punishment will be his priority. He will still try his best to make this work, you said you loved him after all, right? Did you really mean it?

Stepping foot back into Tokyo was hard. You’d grown used to the quiet and sounds of the ocean, it was much more soothing than the sound of cars, trains and people. Putting on a face mask, you hid your face from the crowds - remember, you're dead after all.

You and Ran made your way through security and headed to the parking lot where his car was. When the garage attendant greeted him, he paused for a brief moment, blinking and taking a second look at you. “What space is my car parked in?” Ran asked with a curt tone, the fact that someone else was staring at you made him rather irate. “Oh, space 13 sir.” The attendant bowed and handed the keys over. Ran took the keys and didn't even say thank you as he walked away, you bowed to thank the man and followed Ran. "You're in a pissy mood…" You pointing out the obvious wasn't needed.

As he drove down the highway, you began checking for hotels that had availability, you didn't want to stay in the same living space with Ran. "Can you drop me off at this hotel? I want to rest before meeting everyone." For a moment everything went silent, you were a fool to think that he would let you stay somewhere else. "You're not staying at a hotel, you're coming home with me…" He chuckles and places a hand on your thigh. This was not part of the agreement. "You said-" You began to protest when he cut you off. "I can't let my wife stay somewhere else when she has a perfectly good home to come to." What the hell did he just call you? "I'm not your wife, Ran." You corrected him, you never signed papers or said 'I do' to each other, he had no right to call you that. He squeezed your thigh a little, his fingertips were starting to dig into your skin and make you flinch.

"Please, just stay with me…" The importunate tone made you uneasy. Ran was beginning to crack. Sighing in defeat, you nodded your head and muttered an 'ok'. He was quick to put a smile back on his face. It was rather naive of you to expect him to keep his promise. It was hard not to think of all the things that took place in the city you once called home. You wondered if home was going to look the same or if he changed everything. Did he keep your things, throw them out, sell them or give them away to his playthings? There was no use in thinking about it, it’s been 3 years. His tears and sincerity hinted at him truly regretting his actions. “Ran…I need you to be honest with me.” You begin to say as you stare out the window. He hummed in response. “Do you truly love me or do you hate the fact that you lost me? That you were not the one to end things? Or that I didn’t bend to your will?” The question made him slow down the car, just enough to drag out the drive home. Why the sudden bombardment of questions?

The harsh questions swirled around his head like a maelstrom. Was it his ego that was bruised and not his heart? No…he loved you, he truly loved you. Ran remained silent, he didn’t know what to say in order for you to believe him. His silence spoke volumes to you, you knew he was struggling to find the answer. “Can I show you when we get home?” He said while keeping his eyes on the road. If he’d turn around to face you, he knew he’d stop the car to claim you. Perhaps Ran had a fetish for your love, regardless of his actions - you pushed him out of your life and he came right back for you. When you spotted the building that you once called home, it made a knot in your stomach - you hoped to never see this place again.

Parking his car in the underground parking lot, he cut the engine and turned to look at you. He could see that your hands were trembling, this place brought back bitter memories and he was the cause of them all. “Let’s go, my love.” Ran said with a sickening warm tone and exited the car. Once he closed the door, you inhaled deeply, pausing for five seconds and exhaling, preparing yourself for what awaited you.

Taking the elevator to the top floor, you felt your knees almost give out. The scent of hydraulic oil made you nauseous, there is nothing quite like home, huh? The sound of the elevator dinging made your heart beat faster. You were getting closer and closer to the hell hole you were living in while he did his deeds. Each step taken felt like your feet were in quicksand, your legs felt heavy and struggled to keep up with Ran’s long legs.

Once Ran opened the door, the faint smell of tobacco and sandalwood perforated your nostrils. You were surprised he kept it clean, since you were the one to pick up after him and clean the house - he’s never done housework before. Walking in, you take a look around and notice that he’s changed everything. The walls were painted, the furniture was different, the dining table was gone and even his dishes were different. “It um, looks so different.” You whisper and set your things down by the entrance. “Rindou tried his best.” He said while scratching the back of his neck.

When you were gone, Rindou threw all your things out against Ran’s orders. He couldn’t handle seeing his older brother lose himself over a dead woman that he claimed he felt nothing for when he was out cheating. Rindou hired interior designers to renovate Ran’s home. However, he was unsuccessful with renovating the master bed and bath. The interior designers were threatened with a pistol to their temples if they even walked into those rooms. Aniki…you need to fucking let it go. Rindou would say it over and over again, but Ran refused.

This didn’t feel like home and you were glad, it was a stranger’s home afterall. “I shouldn’t be here.” You say and take a step back but Ran wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “Come on, let’s rest and then we can go see everyone else.” He whispered in your ear. It gave you chills, this felt like a trap.

“Ran, please…I can’t.” You whimpered and felt the tears well in your eyes. Trepidation began to rattle your nerves. Everything began to get blurry as your heart pounded in your chest. He began to guide you to his bedroom while still holding you from behind. When he opened the door and your eyes scanned the room, you felt a pang in your chest. The bedroom remained the same. Your once shared bed, the dressers, nightstands and photos remained the same as the day you left. “Welcome home, (Y/N).”

END

Tags:

@rinrinfoxy @mor-pheus @no-signal @namelessnikki2 @gabi-moureira @spookys-s @slvtmeow @jinii-desu @mmmaaannnsssiii @3xchooo @kokotakeomi @no-name-jack @barriesandcrem @reidsmexyconverse @waterfallsdown @1980losersliveinme @gabytodd @simp4ren @fffsksixj @whatsonthemirror @jcrml @reiners-milkbiddies @unr-u-1y @bakugosgf2005 @whoisneth @bluephoenix908 @asmosslut @laurenzitaa @uniqueeggtoast @arlertsbaby

#tokyo revengers #tokyorevengers #ran haitani #bonten ran #bonten ran haitani #angst #ran angst #ran haitani angst #haitani ran #haitani ran angst #angst fanfic #tokyo revengers angst #how long #fanfic #tokyo revegeners fanfic #how long part 5 #almost over

155 notes · View notes

vampseasoned · 8 days ago

Text

𝙎𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘾𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙔 𝙆𝙄𝙎𝙎𝙀𝙎: ʀᴏᴍᴀɴ ʀᴇɪɢɴꜱ x ʀʜᴇᴀ ʀɪᴘʟᴇʏ

x ᴊᴇʏ ᴜꜱᴏ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄ

Word count: 3,543

Chapter one: intro

As the private jet touched down on the dimly lit runway, Roman let out a deep sigh of relief, the weight of his exhaustion lifting with the wheels. He'd been away for what felt like an eternity, traversing the globe on a series of grueling WWE tour, and all he wanted was to collapse into his own bed, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home. As he stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac, the warm Florida air enveloped him, a welcome respite from the chilly autumn winds of Europe. The thought of Rhea waiting for him, her bright smile and sparkling eyes, was the only thing that had kept him going these past few weeks. He quickened his pace, his long strides eating up the distance between the plane and the waiting car, his heart racing with anticipation of a long, lazy morning in bed with the one person who made everything worth coming home to.

As Roman stepped into the sleek, black rental car, the soft leather enveloping him like a gentle embrace, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. The long, grueling flight was finally behind him, and he was one step closer to collapsing into his own bed, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home. But it wasn't just the thought of his plush pillows and soft sheets that had him smiling - it was the knowledge that Rhea would be waiting for him, her piercing green eyes sparkling like emeralds in the night. He tossed his bag onto the back seat, the sound of the zipper echoing through the silence like a promise of secrets to come. As he slid into the driver's seat, the GPS springing to life with a soft glow, Roman felt a shiver run down his spine. He was going home, and Rhea would be waiting, her mysterious presence drawing him in like a siren's call. With a quiet hum, the engine roared to life, and Roman slipped out of the airport's gates, the night air swallowing him whole as he headed towards the darkness.

As Roman walked through the front door, he dropped his suitcase to the floor with a soft thud, the exhaustion of his long journey written all over his face. He took a deep breath, feeling the warm glow of the living room lights envelop him, and made his way towards the couch, where Rhea was waiting for him. But as he approached her, he realized that she wasn't waiting for him at all - she was fast asleep, her raven hair spread out like a dark halo around her pale face, her chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. Roman's eyes softened as he took in the sight of her, his exhaustion forgotten in that moment. "Aww, look at my lil' raven, fast asleep," he whispered, his voice low and gentle. He walked over to her, his footsteps quiet, and stood beside her for a moment, taking in the sight of her peaceful slumber. Then, with a tender touch, he leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against her forehead. He stood up straight, a gentle smile on his face, and headed upstairs to change into something comfortable. A few minutes later, he came back down, looking relaxed in a white tank top and basketball shorts, his muscles visible beneath the tight fabric. He walked back over to the couch, his eyes fixed on Rhea's peaceful face, and stood there for a couple of minutes, admiring her beauty. Then, with a quiet sigh, he reached over and turned off the TV, plunging the room into a comfortable silence. With a contented smile, he settled onto the couch beside Rhea, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. As he held her, he felt his own eyes growing heavy, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. He let out a deep sigh, and his body seemed to relax, his muscles uncoiling as he surrendered to sleep, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of his dark-haired beauty.

Romans eyes fluttering open to find himself on the couch, with no sign of Rhea anywhere. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, and stretched his arms above his head, giving a good yawn. As he sat up, he caught the scent of food wafting from the kitchen, and his stomach growled in response. He got up from the couch, still feeling a bit groggy, and made his way to the kitchen. As he entered the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of Rhea standing at the stove, expertly flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. She looked up at him, a bright smile on her face, and said, "Good morning, sleepyhead!" Roman's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in confusion. "How did you...?" he started to ask, but Rhea just laughed and said, "I've been up for a while, getting some breakfast ready. Thought you might need some fuel after that long flight." Roman's stomach rumbled in agreement, and he smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He walked over to Rhea, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. "You're a lifesaver, babe," he whispered, his voice still husky from sleep. Rhea leaned into him, her smile softening, and whispered back, "Anytime, Babe Now, let's get you fed and awake."

Following a leisurely breakfast, Roman and Rhea decided to spend a lazy morning together at home. With their bellies full and their energy levels high, they settled on a fun activity to pass the time - a friendly video game session. They booted up the console and inserted the classic Street Fighter game, a favorite of theirs. The competition was fierce from the start, but as the matches went on, Rhea's skills began to surpass Roman's. She landed combo after combo, her characters' specials and counters always seeming to be one step ahead of Roman's. As Rhea's winning streak continued to grow, Roman's competitive spirit kicked in. "Hey, that's not fair!" he exclaimed, tossing his controller aside in mock frustration. "You're just getting lucky!" he teased, trying to get under Rhea's skin. But Rhea just smiled sweetly and continued to dominate, her fingers moving swiftly and surely across the controller.

After Roman suffered through a string of losses, he finally threw in the towel, admitting defeat to Rhea's impressive Street Fighter skills. With a chuckle, he tossed his controller onto the couch cushion, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "You win, you win," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I think I've had enough of getting thrashed for one day." Rhea, beaming with pride, grinned mischievously as she finished off the final match. As the game declared her the winner, she let out a triumphant whoop, pumping her fist in the air. Roman laughed and shook his head, impressed by her gaming prowess. "I guess I should just concede now and save myself the embarrassment," he joked, making Rhea giggle. With the gaming session coming to a close, the two of them settled in together, happy to have spent the morning enjoying each other's company and a little friendly competition.

As Rhea jumped up from the couch, still basking in the glory of her Street Fighter victory, she couldn't help but notice the mock-dejected look on Roman's face. She walked over to him, a sweet smile still plastered on her face, and reached out to comfort him. "Aww, don't be too sad about it, babe" she said, her voice soft and gentle. "You'll get 'em next time, I'm sure." Roman looked up at her, feigning disappointment, but Rhea could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. Without another word, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Roman's expression softened, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, and Rhea felt her heart flutter as Roman's lips touched hers. The Street Fighter rivalry was all but forgotten, replaced by a sweet, tender moment between the two of them. As they broke apart for air, Rhea smiled up at Roman, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I guess I'll have to let you win next time," she teased, making Roman chuckle and pull her in for another kiss.

As the kiss deepened, Roman's hands began to wander, tracing the curves of Rhea's body, pulling her closer to him. The air was filled with the sweet scent of their affection, and the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the moment. Rhea's fingers tangled in Roman's hair, pulling him closer, as she melted into his embrace. The Street Fighter console lay forgotten, the TV screen dark and still, as the only game that mattered now was the one of love and passion. Without breaking away from the kiss, Roman slowly began to guide Rhea towards the bedroom, his hands skating across her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Rhea didn't resist, her body swaying towards him, as if drawn by an invisible force. As they reached the bedroom, Roman gently swept her inside, the door closing softly behind them. The room was bathed in a warm, golden light, the morning sun casting a gentle glow on the pair. Roman's lips never left Rhea's, as he guided her to the bed, their bodies entwining like tender vines. The rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the sweet, swirling tide of their love.

As they finally emerged from the warm, cozy bubble of their bedroom, Roman and Rhea exchanged lazy, sated smiles. The morning's passion had left them both feeling relaxed and rejuvenated, and they were now ready to take on the day. With a spring in their steps, they began to get dressed, opting for casual, comfortable attire that reflected their laid-back mood. Rhea slipped into a pair of distressed denim jeans and a soft, pastel-hued blouse, her hair still slightly tousled from their earlier activities. "Wow, babe, you look amazing," Roman said, gazing at her with admiration, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Rhea's cheeks flushed with pleasure as she smiled, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "Thanks, babe. You're looking pretty great yourself," she replied, taking in Roman's faded athletic shorts and worn, grey t-shirt. Roman chuckled, his eyes roving over her face. "You always look beautiful, but today you're especially radiant," he said, his voice low and husky. Rhea's heart skipped a beat as she felt a flutter in her chest. "Thanks, Roman. You always know just what to say to make me feel special," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. With a contented sigh, they finally made their way out of the bedroom, hand in hand, and walked out the front door into the bright, sunny day. The warm breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers and fresh-cut grass, and the sound of birdsong filled the air. They exchanged a sweet, tender kiss as they stepped outside, then made their way to the car, Roman opening the door for Rhea with a gallant gesture. As they drove, the radio played softly in the background, the music a gentle accompaniment to their happy, post-lovemaking glow. "So, babe, what do you want to get at Chick-fil-A?" Roman asked, breaking the comfortable silence as they drove. Rhea thought for a moment before responding, "Hmm, I think I'll get the chicken sandwich and some waffle fries. How about you?" "Same here," Roman replied, grinning. "And maybe we can grab some of those amazing cookies for dessert." Rhea's eyes lit up. "Mmm, yes! That sounds like the perfect lunch."

As they pulled into the Chick-fil-A parking lot, Roman and Rhea exchanged a happy glance. They were both feeling relaxed and carefree, enjoying each other's company as they went about their day. They parked the car and got out, stretching their legs as they walked towards the entrance of the restaurant. As they stepped inside, the warm, inviting atmosphere enveloped them, and the tantalizing aroma of fried chicken and waffle fries wafted through the air, making their stomachs growl with anticipation. As they joined the queue, they chatted quietly, enjoying the casual vibe of the restaurant. But before they could even think about ordering, a soft voice piped up behind them. "Um, excuse me... are you Roman and Rhea?" they turned to see a young woman, her eyes shining with excitement, holding out a worn notebook and pen. Roman and Rhea exchanged a surprised glance, before breaking into warm smiles. "Yeah, that's us!" Roman replied, chuckling. "What can we do for you?" The woman's face lit up, and she taking a step forward, her hand extended. "I'm such a huge fan! I've been following your social media accounts for ages, and I just love how you two are always so supportive and loving towards each other. Can I get your autograph?" Rhea's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, beaming a warm smile at the fan. "Aww, thank you so much! We'd be happy to give you an autograph," she said, taking the pen and notebook from the woman. As they signed their names, Roman and Rhea chatted with their fan, laughing and chatting like old friends. When they finally handed the notebook back, the woman's face was aglow with happiness. "Thank you so much, you two! This means the world to me!" Roman and Rhea smiled at each other, feeling grateful for the unexpected encounter. "No problem, it's our pleasure," Roman said, winking. "And don't forget to enjoy your Chick-fil-A!"

As they finally received their food, Roman and Rhea couldn't wait to dig in. They found a cozy corner table, tucked away from the bustling crowd, and settled in to enjoy their meal. Roman took a big bite of his chicken sandwich, closing his eyes in appreciation of the flavors. Rhea, meanwhile, dove into her waffle fries, her eyes sparkling with delight. For a few moments, they just savored their food, enjoying the simple pleasure of sharing a meal together. But as they ate, Roman's thoughts turned to his recent WWE tour, and he couldn't help but share some stories with Rhea. "Hey, babe, you won't believe what happened on the tour," Roman said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "So, we were in Chicago, and the crowd was going wild... " Rhea's eyes sparkled with interest, and she leaned in, her elbows on the table. "Oh, yeah? What happened?" Roman launched into a tale of a particularly rowdy fan, who had tried to get into the ring during a match. Rhea giggled, her eyes shining with amusement, as Roman mimicked the fan's over-the-top antics. "And then, I had to do a impromptu promo to calm the crowd down," Roman continued, chuckling. "It was a real challenge, but it ended up being one of the most fun moments of the tour." Rhea's laughter bubbled up, and she leaned over to give Roman a playful nudge. "You're such a pro, babe I'm sure you handled it like a champ." Roman grinned, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. "Thanks, babe. I couldn't do it without you, though. You're my rock, my support system." As they continued to chat, Roman regaled Rhea with more stories from the tour, sharing behind-the-scenes anecdotes and funny moments that had her laughing out loud. And Rhea listened, her eyes shining with love and admiration, happy to be a part of Roman's world.

Rhea's eyes lit up as she read the text from Jey, a smile spreading across her face. She looked up at Roman, who was watching her with interest, and her grin grew even wider. "Hey, babe, it's Jey," she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. "He's asking when I'll be cleared to come back to the WWE." Roman's brow furrowed in concern, but he nodded understandingly. "Ah, yeah? What else did he say?" Rhea's eyes sparkled as she read out the rest of the text. "He says he needs his road trip buddy back, and that riding with Shamus is getting tiring." Roman chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm sure Shamus is lovely, but yeah, I can imagine why Jey would want you back." Rhea giggled, her phone still clutched in her hand. "I know, right? I miss the guys too. I'm going to text him back and see what's going on." As she typed out a response, Roman reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "We'll get you back on the road in no time, babe," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "And until then, I'm happy to be your road trip buddy around here." Rhea's heart swelled with love and gratitude as she looked up at Roman, her eyes shining with happiness. "I love you, Roman," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Roman's smile broadened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "I love you too, Rhea."

Rhea's fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed out a response to Jey's text. "Hey Jey! Missing you too, bestie! Just getting some stuff sorted out here, but I should be cleared to come back soon. Can't wait to get back on the road with you!" She added a few emojis to convey her excitement and enthusiasm, then hit send. As she waited for Jey's response, she glanced up at Roman, who was watching her with a warm smile. "I'm going to try to get back as soon as I can," she said, her eyes shining with determination. "I miss the guys, and I miss the thrill of performing. But I'm also really happy to be spending time with you, babe." Roman's expression softened, and he reached out to take her hand. "I'm happy to have you here with me, babe. But I also want you to follow your dreams and do what makes you happy. We'll figure it out together." Rhea's heart swelled with love and gratitude as she looked at Roman, feeling grateful for his support and understanding.

-Flashback to October 21-

Rhea's eyes scanned the crowd as she stood in the ring, her music blaring and the fans cheering. She was in the middle of a intense match against her arch-nemesis, liv, and adrenaline was coursing through her veins. The two wrestlers clashed, exchanging blows and counters, each trying to outmaneuver the other.

As they approached the ropes,liv lunged forward, attempting a clothesline. Rhea ducked just in time, but liv quickly rebounded, delivering a vicious kick to Rhea's stomach. Rhea doubled over, gasping for air, but liv didn't let up. She grabbed Rhea's arm, pulling her into a vicious armbar.

Rhea tried to wriggle free, but liv's grip was like a vice. The referee started to count, and Rhea knew she had to think fast. With a surge of strength, she managed to roll over, breaking the hold. But as she did, she felt a searing pain in her shoulder.

At first, Rhea thought it was just a minor tweak, but as she got to her feet, she realized something was seriously wrong. Her arm felt like it was on fire, and she couldn't move it without a wave of agony washing over her.

The referee rushed over, concern etched on his face. "Rhea, are you okay?" he asked, but Rhea just nodded, trying to shake off the pain.

Sasha, sensing her opponent's distress, seized the opportunity. She launched herself at Rhea, delivering a series of rapid-fire punches and kicks. Rhea stumbled backward, her vision blurring, but she refused to give up.

The crowd was on its feet, chanting Rhea's name, but she could barely hear them. The pain was becoming too much to bear. Finally, liv seized Rhea's injured arm, yanking her into a vicious submission hold.

Rhea screamed in agony as liv wrenched her arm, forcing her to submit. The referee called the match, and liv was declared the winner.

As Rhea lay on the mat, clutching her injured arm, the medical team rushed in to assist her. The crowd fell silent, concerned for Rhea's well-being.

It soon became clear that Rhea had suffered a severe shoulder injury, one that would require surgery and a lengthy recovery period. The road to recovery would be long and arduous, but Rhea was determined to come back stronger than ever.

-end of flashback-

Rhea's phone buzzed as she received Jey's response. She smiled, feeling a mix of excitement and nostalgia as she read his text.

"Aww, bestie, I'm so glad to hear you're getting back on the road soon! Shamus is cool and all, but it's just not the same without you. We need to catch up ASAP! I've got some crazy stories to share from the tour, and I need my partner in crime back by my side. When do you think you'll be cleared to return? We can start planning our next adventure 😊"

Rhea's fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed out a response to Jey's text.

"Aww, I miss you too, bestie! 😊 I'm hoping to be cleared to return to action in a few months. The doc says I need to take it easy for a bit longer, but I'm doing everything I can to speed up the process. Can't wait to catch up and hear about all the crazy stories from the tour! Let's plan on meeting up as soon as I'm cleared to travel. And don't even get me started on Shamus... I'm sure he's been driving you nuts 😂. See you soon, Jey! 💕"

---

Roman sat across from Rhea, his eyes fixed on her face as she typed away on her phone, a soft smile playing on his lips. He was mesmerized by the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the way her nose scrunched up as she laughed at something Jey had said.

The warm sunlight streaming through the window highlighted her features, making her skin glow with a soft, golden light. Roman's gaze wandered over her face, taking in the gentle curve of her cheekbones, the smooth slope of her nose, and the plump shape of her lips.

As he sat there, he couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment, for the chance to simply sit and admire the woman he loved. He felt a sense of contentment wash over him, a sense of peace that came from being in her presence.

Rhea looked up, catching his eye, and Roman's heart skipped a beat. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the only sound being the soft hum of the air conditioning. Then, Rhea's face broke into a smile, and she mouthed "I love you" across the table.

Roman's heart swelled with emotion as he mouthed it back, his eyes locked on hers. In that moment, everything else faded away, and all that mattered was the love they shared.

As Roman and Rhea drove away from Chick-fil-A, the warm sunshine and gentle breeze made for a perfect afternoon. Roman, feeling playful, couldn't resist the urge to have a little fun.

He glanced over at Rhea, who was busy scrolling through her phone, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. Without warning, he suddenly turned up the volume on the car stereo, blasting a catchy pop song that made Rhea jump in surprise.

Rhea's eyes widened, and she laughed as Roman started belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. "What are you doing, babe?" she asked, giggling.

Roman, still singing, gestured dramatically with his hands, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Rhea couldn't help but join in, and soon they were both laughing and singing along to the music, having the time of their lives.

As they drove through the streets, Roman took a few detours, weaving through the neighborhood roads with a playful flair. Rhea squealed with delight, her hair blowing in the wind as Roman cranked up the music even louder.

Their impromptu sing-along continued until they finally pulled into the driveway, still grinning from ear to ear. As they climbed out of the car, Rhea turned to Roman, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You're such a goofball," she said, shaking her head in affection.

Roman chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Hey, someone's got to bring the fun around here," he said, planting a quick kiss on her forehead.

Rhea playfully rolled her eyes, but Roman could see the happiness radiating from her. He knew that this little moment of silliness had brought them closer together, and he was grateful for the chance to share in her joy.

#roman reigns #jey uso #rhea ripley #wwe #romance #fanfic

12 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Lavender No Outbreak AU - Ch. 1

You and Joel have dinner. Chapter one of a No Outbreak AU of Lavender, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: None really! Mentions of pregnancy. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 4.5k

A/N: For those who aren't readers of Lavender, this is an AU of that fic. If you'd like to read it in context (or just want to go back and remember what happened!) Read chapters 1-6 of Lavender in their entirety. Then read through their text message conversation about halfway through chapter 7. Pick up here.

Love you!

Friday, October 17, 2003

You weren’t sure if the nausea was from nerves or from the morning sickness that had never actually limited itself to just the morning hours.

It had been months since you’d last seen Joel. You remembered it so clearly. It’s not that you’d known he was going to break up with you a few weeks later, but you did know it would be a while before you saw him again. There hadn’t been a set plan, just vague discussion of getting together at Christmas - unsure if he would bring Sarah to you or if you would come down to him - and you wanted to make sure you held onto everything as tightly as you could.

Joel never just dropped you off at the airport. He always parked the car, always walked you in and lifted your bag onto the scale at the check in counter like 35 pounds was just a bit too much for you to do on your own, always walked with you through the security line with his arm around your waist. He always stood there on the other side of the security area until you made it through the metal detectors and you always looked back at him when you did, holding his gaze for a moment with the ache of longing deep in your chest, the two of you raising a hand to each other. “Goodbye. See you soon. I’m leaving a part of myself with you, please take care of it.”

You hadn’t known you’d been taking a literal part of him inside you then. Though, if you were a betting woman, you’d put money on him getting you pregnant the morning you left town. You couldn’t know for sure - you’d been visiting for two weeks and you were pretty sure you hadn’t gone more than 14 hours without him inside you - but your birth control use was always a bit… spotty when you were traveling. You didn’t take it at the same time every day like you did at home, often sleeping in past the usual schedule. You’d forgotten it completely twice, once when you’d taken Sarah to Six Flags and you were in a rush to get out the door so she could get adequate roller coaster time and once when you were so hung over after going out with Cassie, Josh and some of Tommy’s friends the night before you’d barely eaten anything that day.

You’d taken your pill the morning you left but things felt different. He had held you so tightly to him in the pool, been so deep inside you when he fell apart, you were sure that’s what had done it.

And now you were trying to not panic about seeing Joel again.

It had been so long since you’d seen him as a friend. Kind of a friend. Who knew what you were now. You weren’t sure how to occupy this space with him.

On the plus side, you’d found a dress you actually liked. It hugged your chest and waist but concealed the small bump that you doubted anyone would notice but you didn’t want to take any chances. It had been a few months but Joel knew your body like no one else. If there was someone who would notice - at least once upon a time - it would have been him. You spent too much time curling your hair and doing your makeup and hoped he wouldn’t think you’d spent too much time doing your hair and your makeup.

Fuck, you were going to throw up. Maybe not right that minute but you were. You put a travel bottle of Listerine in your purse.

“You can do this,” you said, whole body tense as your knuckles turned white around the steering wheel of your rental car. “You can do this.”

It was strange, driving yourself around Austin now. It had been a few years since you lived here and when you visited, it’s not like you got a rental car. Joel almost always drove, except for the occasional day where it was just you and Sarah because he had to be at a job site. You’d drop him off in the morning so you could use the truck and always inevitably end up there for lunch and show up a bit early for evening pick up because you couldn’t stand to be away. You’d been tempted to take Joel up on his offer to pick you up for dinner but that felt a little too dangerous. A little too much like a date. And for this conversation, you wanted to have some control. To be able to jump in the car and leave if you wanted to.

It had taken you a while to feel like you were even remotely ready to tell Joel that you were pregnant.

You’d sat down and looked at everything you wanted to do for yourself and your career, how the timing would line up with the pregnancy and having a new baby at home, how much it would all cost and what you would do to support it. You wrote it all out clearly with dates and numbers. It was there in black and white, just how much you didn’t need his help with this. You were telling him because it was the right thing to do, not because you wanted anything from him. That was all.

Even though it had been a while since you’d done much driving in Austin, the way to your favorite Mexican place was automatic. Joel’s truck was already in the lot, making your stomach tight. You were early. Joel never got anywhere early. You’d been counting on having some time to sit down and gather your thoughts, maybe read through your plan one last time. Not that you’d expected to have it memorized - it was folded up in your purse specifically so you could reference it when you needed to - but you didn’t want to just sit there and read it to him, either.

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself.

It was just Joel. Just the love of your life who’d left you after he knocked you up - not that he knew about that last part. It wasn’t like he was going to bite you.

The hostess knew exactly who you were looking for when you got inside and Joel stood up when you came over to the table.

You hadn’t been prepared for what seeing him again would do to you. For a second, it was like nothing had changed. When he picked you up from the airport, you always hurled yourself at him and he had to catch you and you had to stop yourself from doing that now, keeping your feet firmly on the ground.

But when he smiled at you, it was damn near gutting. The sudden realization that he wasn’t yours anymore, that you couldn’t just walk up and kiss him, fall into him, slip your hand below the hem of his shirt to the smooth skin of his back and feel him.

You smiled back anyway.

“Hey,” you came to a stop in front of him, unsure whether you should hug him or not. Did you shake his hand? What do you do to greet the man you had been with for three years and were about to tell him that you were carrying his child?

“Hey,” his smile got a little wider. The hostess walked away and he hesitantly put an arm around you, pulling you into his side. You looped your arm around his back and gave him a squeeze. He was warm and still smelled like pine sawdust, even through the smell of his soap.

“I’m surprised I beat you here,” you stepped away from him and sat down, smoothing your dress as you did. “I know how the end of the week can be, I hope you weren’t rushing…”

“No,” he said quickly. “Just wanted to try ’n make sure you weren’t waitin’. Either on me or a table, you know how this place gets on Fridays…”

“I appreciate it,” you smiled a little, picking up the menu. Your stomach was in knots. You still were eating almost exclusively Clif bars.

“Surprised you even need to look at the menu,” he smiled a little from across the small table.

“Hey, they might have changed something,” you smiled back a little.

You settled on a quesadilla - it seemed like the thing you’d be least likely to throw back up at the table - and an iced tea. Joel frowned but waited for the waitress to leave.

“Everything OK?” He asked. “Seems like New York might be changin’ your tastes a bit…”

“Fine,” you said quickly. “Just… wasn’t feeling the enchiladas tonight. And I have to drive. So, how have you been?”

He looked at you for a moment, like he wasn’t sure of your answer.

“Been alright,” he shrugged after a moment. “More of the same. Job I’m doing right now is fuckin’ exhausting, most indecisive client I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh that’s got to be a blast for you,” you smiled a little. “I know how much you love when people don’t know what they want…”

He took a long drink of his beer and nodded and you laughed.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, watching you, his eyes going up and down the parts of you not hidden below the table.

You considered for half a second telling him then, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d have dinner first. A last supper of sorts, where things were normal. You’d tell him after.

“Oh, you know,” you shrugged. “A lot of school. Go to work at a school, come home and do school, study for school on the weekends, do it all again on Monday.”

“Well you were always real good at school,” he teased a little. You laughed.

“You know what they say,” you smiled. “Those who cannot do…”

“You can, though,” he said. “Think you could do just about anything.”

You talked through dinner, you picking at the quesadilla more than anything else and having to excuse yourself to the bathroom to throw up after eating some of it, bringing your purse with the Listerine with you.

And then dinner was over and you couldn’t put it off any longer. You were walking together to your separate cars and you were trying to get up the courage to blurt it out when Joel spoke first.

“Wanted to ask ya,” he cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “If you… had a date for Cass’ party.”

“A date,” you raised your eyebrows at him, standing next to a curb in the parking lot. The crickets were loud, the moon bright.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just… wasn’t sure…”

“Who would I bring?” You laughed. “One of the guys from my vibrant college dating life?”

“Wasn’t sure if…” he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up a bit. “If you brought someone with you.”

“Who I left in a crappy hotel room alone while I went to dinner with my ex?” You said skeptically. He laughed.

“Guess when you put it like that,” he looked at you again. “I’d just… like to spend more time with ya while you’re here. And I always liked Cass, she’s a nice girl…. So I thought… I mean, if you’d want and it wouldn’t be too much trouble…”

“Are you asking to be my date to Cass’ engagement party?” You asked, smiling a little.

“Yeah,” he said. He sounded relieved. “If you don’t…”

“That’d be great,” you said quickly. “It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to, Cass is going to be pretty damn busy.”

“I’ll pick you up,” he smiled.

“I’ll text you the information,” you smiled back.

He hugged you goodbye - a real one this time, one where you could feel his whole body against yours - and pecked you on the cheek before making sure you made it into your car.

You’d tell him tomorrow.

Saturday, October 18, 2003

There had been less planning with the outfit for Cassie’s party than there had been for the dinner with Joel.

For one, you weren’t friends with a lot of Cassie’s other friends. You liked them well enough but they weren’t about to be paying you any mind while you were there. You’d see Cass for a few minutes of the party, help out where you could and that was that. Joel you desperately wanted to impress, even though you thought there was a good chance he’d never want to see you again after this weekend. That dress had been much more important.

But the khakis you’d worn the week before to teach suddenly wouldn’t close. You stood profile in the full length mirror by the dresser of your hotel room, your hand covering the bump that had somehow doubled in size in the past week. It was still small, likely not noticeable to anyone but you, but it was just enough that the zipper wouldn’t come up all the way and the button was a fraction of an inch away from closing on the pants.

“Shit,” you looked at your watch. You had a grand total of 15 minutes before Joel was supposed to pick you up and you didn’t have fucking pants.

You rifled through your bag and found an extra hair tie, looping it around the button and through the button hole to help hold them closed. Thankfully, the sweater you’d brought for the party covered the top of the pants enough that no one should notice. You hoped.

“Hey,” he smiled warmly, opening the door of the truck for you. It was a slightly less awkward greeting than the night before, a hug and a kiss on the cheek before you climbed in the truck and he closed the door behind you.

“Thanks for driving,” you smiled. “I’m hoping I can remember quite how to get to Cassie’s parents’ place, I’ve only been there a few times…”

“Well, you sent me the address, so…” He handed you a printout of Mapquest directions. “Figured I’d cover my bases.”

“You’re the best,” you smiled a little. “I did not plan that far ahead…”

“Always happy to come to your rescue,” he winked at you and headed off.

It was nice, just being in the same space as Joel again. He was still warm and funny, you still wanted to lace your fingers through his as he drove or lean your head on his shoulder when at a stoplight. But you kept your hands to yourself.

“So Cass’ OK with me comin’ right?” He asked as you pulled into Cassie’s parents’ neighborhood. “Doesn’t hate me or anything?”

“Oh she definitely burned you in effigy a few months back but she’s moved on,” you teased. He half smiled. “No, she’s fine with you being there, I did ask.”

Fine may have been a strong word for it. You texted her after you got back to your hotel the night before to make sure it was OK that you brought a date.

“Who?” She texted back.

“Just Joel,” you replied.

She didn’t text back, she jumped straight to calling.

“Are you FUCKING kidding me?” She yelled.

“Hi Cassie, how are you?” You asked. “Ready for your party tomorrow?”

“Joel?” She demanded. “Fucking JOEL? You haven’t even been in town a whole day and you’re already going to just, what, forgive him for dumping you over the phone after you were together for three fucking years?” She must have pulled the phone away from her face, her voice muffled. “No, Josh, I will NOT calm down…”

“We had dinner,” you picked at a hole in the bedspread. “It was nice, he said he wants to see me more before I go…”

“I swear if you just jump back in bed with that man…” she muttered. You sighed.

“Do I need to text him and say never mind to the party?” You asked. “Because I definitely will, I don’t want to upset you, it’s your day.”

“No,” she sighed. “You can bring Joel.” She said his name like it was a curse word. “At least this way I can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re not… I don’t know, falling back in love with the guy or something.”

“Hard to do since I’m still in love with him,” you said wryly.

“Yeah and maybe I’ll just shove him in the pool with some rocks in his pockets,” she muttered and then sighed again. “Look, I’ll be nice. Bring him if you want, of course you’re welcome to bring a date. If you want to be a masochist about it, I can’t stop you.”

“Have been a bit worried that all your friends hate me,” he smiled a little, his head leaning on his hand that was propped up by the door.

“Yes, my broad social reach is sure to cause you problems on the Austin scene,” you said knowingly. He smiled broader.

Joel pulled up to the gate and you gave him the code from the invitation. He keyed it in and the gate opened.

“Feelin’ a bit out of place,” he said as he drove in, looking at the mansions lining the road.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you said. “I’m pretty sure you could fit Nan’s house in one of these garages.”

Cassie’s parents lived at the end of a cul de sac, their expansive home all brick and stone with lush gardens in front, the kind that required constant watering under the Texas sun.

“Really hope she doesn’t want to kill me,” Joel said as you followed the signs down the path to the side of the house toward the back yard. “Feelin’ like they could get rid of whatever body they wanted to…”

You giggled.

You’d shown up a bit early to help Cass and her mom set up, handing the bottle of wine and engraved glasses you’d brought as a gift off to the guest of honor.

“It’s so good to see you!” She shrieked, jumping as she hugged you. You grabbed her ring hand and she obliged, happily letting you turn her fingers in the light to see the diamond before she looked at Joel for a second, eyes narrowed. “Joel. Thanks for coming.”

He glanced at you quickly before looking back at Cass.

“Just let me know how I can help,” he said, standing close enough to you that his arm brushed against yours.

“I think my mom and Josh need help moving some stuff over that way,” she gestured into the yard where there was a tent and tables. “Why don’t you go make yourself useful?”

Cass didn’t wait for a response, she just looped her arm through yours and tugged you inside. You glanced over your shoulder and mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ but he just smiled and went where Cassie told him.

“You said you’d be nice!” You said as she pulled you into the kitchen.

“That was nice,” she shrugged. “I didn’t call him a douchebag once. Margarita?”

“No thanks. I’m cutting back,” you said. She handed you a sparkling water and got a margarita for herself. “What else is there to get set up?”

“Oh, basically nothing, the caterers have the rest,” she said, pulling you along to the picture windows that overlooked the backyard. “But now we have refreshments while we watch the men do strong man shit.”

She tilted her glass toward you and you toasted her with a giggle, taking a drink of water.

“So,” she said after a minute of watching Joel and Josh haul an oversized planter around the yard at Cass’ mom’s direction. “You told him yet?”

“Told who what?” You frowned.

“Told Joel that you’re knocked up,” she took a sip of her drink like she’d just noted the weather.

“What?” You coughed, trying to keep the water from shooting out your nose. “I don’t…”

“Please,” she rolled her eyes. “You look like you lost weight everywhere but your uterus, you’re not getting hammered on the free booze when you showed up with your ex… You’re not that hard to read, hon.”

“You can’t say…” You began but she waved you off.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” she said. “Really wish you’d have told me, though! It’s his I take it?”

“Either that or I’m getting added to some religious texts,” you sighed, looking out the window. Joel had rolled up the sleeves of his button down. “I just didn’t want to tell you before I told him. That just… it felt weird.”

“You’re telling him this trip, right?” She asked. “Because if you decide to come down in a few months it’s going to be less telling him and more him just observing you.”

“I was going to tell him last night at dinner but I just kept putting it off and then he asked if he could come with me tonight and…”

“And you chickened out,” she nodded. “Did you fuck?” You shook your head. She nodded again. "Babe, you can’t sit here and cling to… whatever it is that you two are doing this weekend. He made his call, can’t change that. You’ve gotta bite that bullet.”

“You’re right,” you sighed. “I’ll tell him after the party. I have to, right?”

“Unless you were planning on hiding the baby forever,” she shrugged. “Think you have to.”

The party was oddly fun. Maybe it was because you were dreading the end because that meant you’d have to actually tell Joel. Maybe it was because Cassie’s parents had spent a probably obscene amount of money on food and a band. Maybe it was because you hardly knew anyone and you basically just hung out on the edge of everything with Joel as Cassie and Josh made the rounds, the two of them only coming over when she wanted a break from dealing with her family to chat or roll her eyes about something.

“I swear to God my mother thinks I’m marrying the future king of England or something,” she groaned, chugging a glass of Chardonnay. “She was just saying she’s got 250 people to invite. I don’t think I’ve ever MET 250 people let alone 250 people I want at my fucking wedding… Oh hi Aunt Barb!” She gave you a wide eyed, desperate look before going to talk to the person who waved her down. You giggled.

“Never thought having no family and very few friends would be a perk,” you leaned against a table, glancing up at Joel. “But at least I know that I won’t have to worry about stuff like this if I ever get married.”

“If?” He asked, taking a sip of beer.

“I mean,” you shrugged. “It’s kind of ‘if’ until you actually get married, right? Not like it’s a guaranteed thing.”

“S’pose that’s true,” he nodded.

“And we’re gonna slow it down just a bit,” the lead singer crooned. You recognized the opening notes of Wonderful Tonight and you laughed a little before you groaned.

“They were accepting tips, I made a request,” Joel shrugged and held out his hand.

“No,” you laughed a little again. “Clapton? No way.”

“C’mon,” he jerked his head to the dance floor. “Old time’s sake.”

You sighed and put your hand in his. “For old time’s sake.”

He smiled and led you to the dance floor, pulling you against his body, swaying in time to the music. His arm went around your waist, your hand in his held to his chest. Joel was humming the song to himself, so softly you doubted he even knew he was doing it.

Wonderful Tonight was one of the first things Joel ever played for you on guitar. He’d put it on the stereo when Sarah was sleeping at a friend’s house after you’d had a few glasses of wine and he’d pull you into his arms to sway with you in the middle of the living room, dodging the coffee table and the couch and so full of love you thought you’d burst with it.

“I’ve missed you,” he said quietly, his nose brushing along your temple. You could feel his heartbeat below your palm, the heat of his breath on your cheek. You swallowed past the knot in your throat. Your stomach got tight.

“Missed you too,” you said. He held you a little closer, the hand that was against you slipping up, below your sweater so his fingertips were brushing the bare skin of your lower back. Your heart rate picked up. “I think in a different way, though…”

“I hope not,” he whispered.

The song wound down and his lips brushed against your temple, your cheek.

“Joel,” you breathed. His hold on your hand tightened as he kissed you.

It was gentle at first, soft and hesitant. Almost innocent, as though he’d never touched you before. But you felt the familiar heat gathering low inside you, the raw and needy ache of it. His lips grew firmer, more insistent and you pushed him back, stepping away from him just as the band was shifting to another song, the buzz in your head too loud to recognized what that song was.

“I’m sorry,” you said, stomach turning. “I can’t do this.”

You took off before he had a chance to stop you. You could feel the Clif bars you’d had for breakfast and lunch creeping back up and you tried to work your way through the people milling about the yard without being disruptive. Joel called your name and you ignored him, trying to find your way to a bathroom or at least a quiet corner…

You’d made it to the corner of the yard when Joel’s hand closed around your arm.

“Please don’t just run off,” he said.

“Joel,” you tried to pull away from him but he tugged you closer.

“Don’t tell me that you didn’t want that, too,” he said, his eyes searching your face. “Baby…”

“Don’t call me that,” you said. You were about to throw up, you could feel it coming, you were an expert at it now. “Joel, let me go….”

“Let’s talk about this,” he said.

“I can’t,” you tried to step away from him but he held onto you. Not hard, you could pull yourself away, but his eyes were begging you to stay.

“Why can’t you?” He asked. “Please…”

“Because I’m pregnant!” You all but yelled it at him. His eyes went wide, his hand still on your arm. You looked at him for a second longer before you doubled over and threw up on the ground next to his shoes.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #fanfic #joel miller x you

132 notes · View notes

mad-hare · 5 days ago

Text

So today I had to go to Mississauga to get the plate off my car (only one because the second one was lost in the accident). I don’t feel like it was worth it!

Driving down the 401 was fine till Toronto when I start to lose it. Google maps kept redirecting me on and off the collectors/express, trying to make me change like 4 lanes in under a km on a crowded ass highway, at this point I’m crying. Eventually manage to get off at the airport and take a nice quieter backroad meant for cargo trucks lmao.

I get to the garage and they let me in and I ask a mechanic to show me where my car is in the impound lot.

He asks me, “is the car a total loss?”

Yes.

“Did you settle yet?”

No.

“But you released it to the insurance company?”

Yes.

“Why on earth would you release it before settling. Now you can’t argue for more money because you’ve already given them your car.”

That’s not true.

“Say if you were trying to sell your purse for $10, I offer you $5, you say no and give it to me anyways and keep bartering?”

The insurance industry is heavily regulated here. They are contracted to replace the value of the car for us. (This isn’t Facebook marketplace).

“Yea, well, it’s regulated but it’s not THAT regulated.”

If we are too difficult with the insurance company they can drop our case (okay I read this on Reddit and I’m not sure it would happen that quickly).

“Well whatever I guess you know more than I do there’s your car good luck getting your plates off.”

(He leaves and I ask a different guy to get it off for me).

-Insurance adjuster friend said they just want an excuse to charge the insurance company for storage fees.

-Garage super friendly during accident claims that they are just going to do their best to get as much storage fees from the insurance company as they can but they will NEVER charge me for it.

-The release paper I signed from the garage however states that owner can be charged for extra storage fees that insurance won’t cover, which I guess doesn’t matter because the car is a total loss and we’re not ever taking it ourselves.

-I think the garage is just trying to put up a high storage fee so the insurance company abandons it there so they can use it for parts.

After this annoyance I spent an hour and a half driving down the lakefront road of Toronto, which was much less stressful for me going 40km/h in 40km/h zones. What’s really bad for me is the highway, when you are going fast and have to slow down suddenly, because I was rear ended I am very uncomfortable with vehicles behind me that think they should be going 100/h in heavy traffic.

To get to the car rental place, and he tells me the $200 fee because the car was from the Mississauga location. Well I never picked it up there it was brought to me in the middle of the night without much say. At this point I start sobbing at the thought of driving 1.5hrs back on the highway and then taking 1.5hrs of public transit to get to union station. Decide it’s not worth it because every moment with the rental car was so stressful for me. Leave the car there, walk 10 min to the go train, get to union and get on via rail.

Canada has no fault insurance meaning no matter what you essentially take 50% of the blame for any accidents. Like even if someone hits your parked car if you’re not in it.

11 notes · View notes

trulybetty · 14 days ago

Text

october | 25 x jack-o-lanterns

pairing: frankie x f!reader word count: 1,590 warnings: talks of starting a family, marriage and as always un-beta'd. summary: a visit to Frankie's hometown. ao3: linked

{ x. series masterlist }

author note: prompts are not in chronological order, the story is told throughout the life span of the relationship. once all are posted, I'll post a list of the prompts in chronological order.

25 x Jack-o-Lanterns.

You arrived in El Paso under a vast expanse of clear blue sky, the sun casting a warm glow over everything it touched. You rolled the window down of the rental car and breathed in the scent of the warm autumn air that held a hint of desert sage. It filled your lungs and warmed your chest and the overwhelming feeling of home felt like a warm hug.

Frankie glanced over at you from the driver’s seat, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you take it all in. The radio was blaring out an old Springsteen song, the two of you in comfortable silence since you’d left the airport. The world seemed to slow down and for a moment it felt like you and Frankie were the only ones in it.

It always felt good to be away from the constant hustle of Frankie’s military life, to put physical distance between you and it, if only for a short while. Frankie seemed lighter here, the tension that often tightened his shoulders easing the moment the plane had taken off from North Carolina. This place, his hometown, this was where you got to see Frankie flourish.

Frankie’s mother was not amused you wouldn’t be staying with her this trip—but with the birth of Maria’s third daughter Lucia three months ago and a husband on a long deployment—Frankie had wanted to soak in as much time as he could with his baby sister and nieces. The house had been a hive of activity. The moment you’d stepped through the door, you were both enveloped by the sounds of laughter and the patter of little feet scampering across the tiled floor.

Sofia and Elena, immediately latched onto their uncle's legs, squealing with delight as he feigned being weighed down by both of them. “Tío Frankie! Tía!” they’d cried in unison. Maria emerged from the kitchen, baby Lucia cradled in her arms, her face lighting up at the sight of her brother.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” she teased.

“Traffic was a nightmare,” Frankie joked, winking at his sister. Before he had even finished hugging her, he had corralled his youngest niece out of her arms and into his.

The warm glow of late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains as you sat on the couch, cradling little Lucia in your arms, after finally being pried from Frankie’s. Her tiny fingers curled around yours, and you couldn't help but smile at her peaceful expression. Across the room, Frankie was sprawled on the floor, his nieces climbing over him like a jungle gym as he pretended to be a monster, eliciting squeals of delight from the girls.

Maria dropped in the seat next to you, looking a lot more refreshed after the nap Frankie had forced her to take. Maria had grumbled something about him being worse than their mother, but hadn’t taken much convincing to go enjoy several hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Sinking into the cushions her eyes followed her daughters as they clambered over Frankie, “He’s always been so good with kids,” she remarked as you both looked over at him now giving Elena a piggyback ride.

“He’s a natural,” you agreed, “They can’t get enough of him.”

Maria nodded, “Every family event, same thing—you turn around and he’s got a baby in his arms. He’s the designated baby whisperer,” she laughed. “I sometimes wonder if he secretly enjoys the competition when it’s time to hand them back.”

You chuckled, “Oh, he absolutely does. I think he sees it as a challenge.”

The scent of pumpkin wafted in from the kitchen, a reminder of the morning's activities. No sooner had you arrived, you were back out the door for an afternoon at the pumpkin patch. The girls had insisted on finding the biggest pumpkins they could carry—or rather, the biggest ones Frankie could carry for them. Now the prized carved pumpkins sat proudly on the kitchen table, awaiting their debut when the sun dipped below the horizon.

Maria took a sip of her tea, her face turning contemplative, “Have you two talked more about starting a family?” she asked gently.

From anyone else you might have bristled at the question, it was a constant topic of conversation, only beat out by why Frankie and you weren’t married after being together for more than half a decade. But Maria knew what life was like as a military spouse.

You sighed, your eyes drifting to the baby in your arms, adjusting the blanket around her, “We’ve talked about it,” you admitted, “But Frankie still wants to wait until he’s out of the service. With all the moving and the unpredictability…”

She reached over and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “I get it. I mean, with Marcus being enlisted it’s hard enough, and he’s not even in a fraction of the demand Frankie is. The girls miss him a lot when he’s away.”

You offered a small smile, “It’s something we’re both looking forward to, just when the time is right.”

Maria’s eyes sparkled as she shifted the conversation, “Well, Mama hasn’t given up on hearing wedding bells for you two,” she teased, “so don’t be surprised if she drops one of her not-so-subtle hints on you tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a laugh, this wasn’t new territory, Frankie’s mother. However you took it in your sted, she was your biggest fan.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you replied with a wry smile. “I think last time we were here she had the whole thing planned out in her head.”

Maria snorted, “Probably down to the centrepieces. You know how she is.”

As if on cue, Frankie’s head popped up from the end of the couch, his hat gone and his hair mussed from roughhousing with the girls. “What are you two conspiring about over here?” he asked, a playful glint in his eye.

“Just discussing Mama’s favourite topic,” Maria replied with a smirk.

Frankie groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch between you and his sister and within seconds already was giving you grabby hands for the baby. You laughed and carefully transferred Lucia into Frankie’s waiting arms. He cradled her with practiced ease, his large hands gentle as he adjusted her blanket.

“You know,” Frankie said, his voice low and teasing, “we could always elope and deny Mama the satisfaction.”

Maria swatted his arm playfully, “Don’t you dare. She’d never forgive you and I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Ah, but think of all the drama we’d avoid,” Frankie countered, winking at you.

You shook your head, smiling, “Your mother would hunt us down.”

Before Frankie could respond Elena and Sofia charged into the room declaring it was dark enough for the pumpkins to be lit. After much excitement and logistics, you had all ended up on the porch with the newly carved pumpkins lit with tiny tea lights. An impromptu photoshoot later, Sofia’s request, your phone was full of experimental angles of pumpkins and awkward selfies.

As evening settled in, Maria having ushered the girls inside to get ready for bed. You and Frankie had remained on the porch, soaking in the warm evening air. The sky was clear, stars starting to peek out, tiny pinpricks lighting the darkening sky.

You yawned, “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Frankie let out a laugh and rolled his eyes, “My mother has been blowing up my phone since the moment we touched down.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer and your arms wrapped around his waist hugging him tight, “She’s just excited to have her baby boy home.”

“That and to integrate me in person,” he muttered, though you could hear the humour in his voice as a laugh rumbled in his chest.

“She’s not exactly subtle,” you said tilting your head up to look at Frankie.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you.

“You know, I do think about it a lot,” Frankie spoke quietly, as if afraid of disrupting the silence. “Getting married, I mean.”

You held your breath, your heart skipping a beat as you waited for Frankie to continue.

“Yeah?” you prompted softly, not wanting to break the spell that seemed to have fallen over the moment. It wasn’t as if you and Frankie hadn’t discussed marriage, it was spoken about as a case for when not if. Late-night conversations for a future ahead, for a home where you could settle and place permanent roots.

Frankie nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Yeah,” he affirmed, his voice low and tender. “Being back here, with you… seeing you with the girls, Lucia…” his voice trailed off, “it makes me think about it more.” he took a deep breath, “I think about it when we’re thousands of miles apart and I’ve got Benny snoring in my ear and I’d take your snoring over his,” you elbowed him playfully and he feigned hurt. “But seriously,” his voice dropping back to that low soft tone that made you feel warm, “I do think about it a lot, of us, of a future together and how I haven’t felt like this about anyone before.”

Your heart fluttered. “Frankie Morales, are you proposing?”

He smiled softly. “Not here, not like this. You deserve better than a half-baked proposal on my sister's porch.” He squeezed your hand. “I just wanted you to know that it's always on my mind. And when the time is right, I'll make it official.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

19 notes · View notes

truecrimecrystals · 8 months ago

Text

Louis Danhi has been missing since June 2013. The then-38-year-old man was last seen in Stanislaus County, California. Louis last spoke to his girlfriend, Rebecca, via phone on June 20th, 2013. He told her that he was going to drop a friend off before going to the San Francisco International Airport catch a flight to Las Vegas. Louis never made his flight and has never been seen or heard from again.

Rebecca tried to get in touch with Louis several times around the time he was supposed to arrive in Vegas, but her calls and texts went unanswered. She eventually learned he had never made his flight. Worried, Rebecca subsequently contacted Louis' father, Adam Danhi, to let him know about her concerns.

Adam tried to get in contact with Louis several times himself before eventually reporting him missing on June 22nd, 2013. That same day, Louis' rental car was found abandoned in "an unincorporated area near Livermore, California." The car reportedly did not yield any clues about Louis' whereabouts.

Reports state that Louis was involved in the marijuana business. He was arrested in 2004 after trying to ship nearly 60 pounds of marijuana from Glendale, California to the east coast. By 2013, Louis was living in Massachusetts. However, he was still involved in the marijuana industry and often flew to California for business.

Louis' father, Adam, has been dedicated to finding his son. In 2019, he filed a petition to declare Louis deceased and to establish the facts of his death. The documents in the petition reveal even more suspicious circumstances surrounding Louis' disappearance.

[continue reading]

#louis danhi #missing man #missing person #2013 #true crime #true crime research #tcoriginal #california #unsolved mystery #unsolved disappearance

24 notes · View notes

femininenachos · 2 years ago

Note

Vacation au? Do tell 👀

They arrive via ferry from the mainland, then by rental car.

“We would’ve got here a lot sooner if Grandma Wells ever dared to go above 20 mph.”

“Excuse me for not wanting us to plummet to our deaths on a blind turn, Octavia. Those roads are treacherous.”

“The speed limit was 40. 40! A senior citizen could go faster. In fact, an old lady on a Vespa overtook us back there.”

“That is such bullshit.”

Clarke drops her luggage and cuts across the argument. “Guys, enough! Come see the view.”

She throws open the patio doors to reveal an infinity pool with the most spectacular backdrop. Sparkling azure waters, rippling in the early evening haze, dramatic red-brown cliffs in the distance descending sharply into the sea. The picture postcard perfect village of Polis sprouts out of the rugged mountainside, whitewashed cuboid houses with painted blue doors, window frames and shutters, clustered tightly together and cascading down the steep slope.

It takes her breath away.

“Oh, wow.” Wells peels off his shades and stands alongside Clarke in silent awe for a minute, transported by the sheer beauty of their surroundings. “Okay, I could get used to looking at that every day.”

“Right?” Clarke agrees with a wistful sigh. “The Airbnb photos didn’t do it justice.”

“Bell’s going to be so fucking jealous when he sees this on my Stories,” Octavia says, whipping out her phone.

To one side there’s a secluded courtyard, hemmed in by purple oleanders, the fragrant air thick with the scent of bougainvillea in bloom that climbs the walls.

It’s a slice of paradise; a dream come true.

Their haven for the next two weeks, and Clarke already feels the stress that followed her across the Atlantic melting away.

She fully intends to make use of that hot tub, preferably with a trashy airport novel in one hand and a fruity alcoholic concoction in the other. Just switch off, relax, and unwind. Mentally, she’s already changed into her swimsuit when Octavia pushes in between them and drapes her arms around their shoulders.

“So… what are our plans for this evening?”

“A glass of wine and some nibbles and an early night.”

That earns Clarke an appalled look from both her friends.

“I just came off a sixteen-hour shift. Who else here scrubbed in for three separate surgeries yesterday then hopped on a plane? I’m exhausted.”

“Fair,” Wells shrugs.

Octavia isn’t so sympathetic.

A frown sits on her face. “You can’t be a shut-in on our first night, Clarke.” Her eyes turn pleading. “Look, we’ll just have a nice, low-key dinner at the taverna. Maybe hit a bar or two after.”

Clarke groans.

A tug on her wrist. “Come on, we’re on vacation. Live a little. Whatever happened to party monster Clarke Griffin?”

“Uh, residency and 200k of student loan debt.”

She looks to Wells for backup, but he remains studiously blank. Some ally he is, she thinks with an inward tut. Meanwhile, Octavia just pins her with one of those formidable stares that always fills Clarke with a vague sense of inadequacy.

She crumbles after a beat.

Heaves an exasperated sigh.

“Fine. But no shots.”

~*~

Of course, the first thing Octavia does when they’re seated on the outside terrace is order a round of fayaflou. Distilled locally, it might as well be 100% proof pure ethanol by the way it burns down Clarke’s throat and starts an inferno in her chest. Even Wells chokes a little, but Octavia just acts like she guzzled down spring water fresh from a mountain stream.

“Another?” She asks, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Fuck, no,” Clarke croaks out through a coughing fit. She holds up a palm in surrender, the other flat against her sternum as if that could somehow mitigate the effects.

A scoff from Octavia. “Lightweight.”

“I’d just like to return home with my liver intact.”

“Same,” Wells says, his features contorted into a pained grimace. “I didn’t agree to this trip to get blackout drunk. Polis is steeped in culture and history. I mean, did you see those incredible ancient ruins on the drive here?”

Octavia rolls her eyes so hard the retinas nearly detach.

But after a moment’s reflection, she concedes. “Actually, you have a point. Gotta pace ourselves. The night is young and I’ve got my eye on that hot piece over there.”

All eyes follow her nod to the bar, where an impossibly chiselled, handsome guy is making cocktails. Tall. Tattooed. Muscles bulging out of his tight black shirt as he juggles two bottles at once with impressive showmanship.

They all have to scrape their jaws off the floor.

He might be the most beautiful man Clarke has ever seen, not that she would dare interfere when Octavia has her sights set on someone. But then a waitress glides up to him, passing off an order with a short, melodious laugh that reaches Clarke’s ears and when the woman turns around, Clarke’s mouth drops again.

Because she is gorgeous.

Chestnut brown hair pinned up in a twist, a few loose tendrils framing the kind of face that people wrote epic poetry about thousands of years ago. High cheekbones and pouty lips. A jawline cut from marble. Eyes drawn heavy with liner scan the terrace, landing on Clarke for a second, and those lips pull up almost imperceptibly, twitching into the subtle hint of a smile.

Caught staring, Clarke flushes and drops her gaze, feigning a sudden fascination with the laminated menu.

“How is it that everyone here looks like a model?” Wells wonders aloud.

“It’s all the genes,” Octavia says in a superior tone, proud of her own distant Polisian ancestry. She props her chin on her hand and bats her lashes. “We’re naturally beautiful people, what can I say?”

Wells snorts. “Naturally conceited, maybe.”

“Whatever. Clarke. Clarke? Clarke.”

A finger snap in front of her face jolt Clarke out of her daze. She scowls, but when she lifts her eyes, seeking out another glimpse of the waitress, Clarke is disappointed to find her gone.

“What are you having?” Octavia asks. “I’m thinking… calamari to start, and maybe we could share the seafood platter?”

“Uh…” Clarke pretends to pour over the menu options, still in a state of distraction. The words blur together. Her pulse hasn’t slowed yet and her palms are sweating. “Sure, sounds good.”

“Clarke might prefer something off-menu,” Wells says, and she looks up again just in time to see him incline his head towards the waitress approaching.

Octavia hoots delightedly and Clarke kicks her under the table.

All the same, Clarke’s throat dries out.

She can’t force her eyes away, drinking up the sight in front of her. How the crisp, white short-sleeved blouse hugs the girl’s torso and toned arms, such a striking contrast against sun-bronzed skin. One too many buttons are undone, affording a peek of sharp clavicles and a shadowy inch of cleavage. It has Clarke wetting her lips as her eyes dip down, taking in the neat black skirt and heels. Legs that go on for miles and miles.

Clarke shifts in her seat, warmth spreading through every inch of her body. She can’t even blame the residual heat of a sweltering day, the gentle sea breeze providing welcome relief as the orange disc of the sun squats low on the horizon, the last golden rays reaching out like fingers across the sky.

“Not a word,” Clarke warns, seconds before the waitress arrives at their table.

Then Clarke hears her speak. “Hello, I’m Lexa. Are you ready to order?” Lightly accented English delivered in a crisp, coolly confident voice with a girlish lilt, and Clarke is a goner.

Fully melts into a puddle of lust while Octavia and Wells rattle off their choices. When it’s Clarke’s turn, she finds herself tongue-tied. Up close, those eyes are the lushest, loveliest shade of green, and Clarke is transfixed.

Her stomach swoops.

It’s ridiculous. She’s a grown adult, a medical professional with years of clinical training below her belt, and inside she’s a mess because a beautiful woman is looking at her with an expectant arch of one eyebrow, patiently waiting for Clarke to recover from whatever brain malfunction she’s currently experiencing.

“Hi, hello,” trips from Clarke’s mouth and it feels like her soul leaves her body at the same time. In an instant, her face heats. She offers a small, flustered laugh. “Sorry, I’m a space cadet today. Head in the clouds. The time difference, I guess.”

Across the table, her friends hide their amusement behind their knuckles, clearly entertained by her latest episode of undignified flailing in front of an attractive stranger.

Full lips curve into a smirk that does absolutely nothing to slow the rapid hammering of Clarke’s heart or cool her flushed cheeks.

“What can I get you?”

A date, please.

(And in five years, give or take, a springtime wedding in a converted barn with fairy lights strung everywhere and two hundred guests in attendance, if Mom has any say in the planning.)

Get it together, Griffin.

Like the flip of a switch, she turns on the charm. Eases into a smile, one that’s seldom failed her (and gotten her out of plenty of scrapes besides). Tucks her hair behind her ear and lets her fingers trail down her neck. She sees the way the woman–Lexa’s–eyes darken as they track the movement, how they make a quick but unsubtle appraisal of Clarke’s seated figure.

Her confidence soars.

The mild funk she’d found herself in from a long day of travelling evaporates.

“You know what, I’m feeling adventurous. Surprise me.” Her gaze flicks towards beestung lips then back up, locking eyes once more. “Lexa.”

They hold eye contact for a stretch of seconds, and Clarke feels a current run through her. Mutual attraction, instant and electric.

“More drinks?” The question is intended for the whole table, but Lexa’s attention doesn’t stray from Clarke until Wells clears his throat. She almost appears annoyed by the interruption, a flash of irritation in her eyes, a muscle in her lower cheek flexing before her expression smooths out and she turns her head to look at him. And, God, that jawline nearly takes out Clarke in the process. It’s lickable.

“Could we have a pitcher of water, please? My friends here are extremely thirsty,” Wells says, glancing pointedly between Clarke and Octavia.

“Make that three margaritas,” Octavia overrules him. “And have the sexy bartender bring them over.”

“O!” Clarke snaps, mortified.

So brazen.

She gives Lexa an apologetic look, but there’s a ghost of a smirk on her lips again, a gleam in her eyes that suggests she’s happy to play along.

When Lexa departs, Octavia bumps Clarke’s arm excitedly with her fist. “I saw that! My girl, getting her flirt on like a pro.”

“Flirt?” Wells chuckles. “She practically had a sign on her forehead that said: ‘funny how my legs are wide open all of a sudden.’ Zero points for subtlety.”

Clarke huffs out a sigh and crosses her arms. “Oh, fuck off. Let me objectify someone in peace.”

“No, no. It’s good!” Octavia insists. “You should be putting yourself out there more. Especially after the F-I-N-N debacle.”

An eye roll. “You can say his name, O. I won't relapse into a depressive episode.”

“Okay, but you deserve to have fun. Ogle girls. Guys. Nonbinary eye candy.” She pats Clarke’s wrist. “I fully support your hot girl summer.”

Octavia peers past Clarke to check out the bartender again. She bites her lip, eyes glazing over a bit. “And I, for one, plan to climb that fine man like a tree before the night is over.”

Clarke sighs again. Unfolding her arms, she reaches for the empty shot glass in front of her, twirling it around with her fingers. “She’s probably a player, anyway. I bet she’s slept with six sunburnt British girls already this season.”

Tearing her gaze away from the beefy hunk behind the bar, Octavia looks at Clarke dubiously, brows pulled together. “Uh, she seemed pretty laser-focused on you. I felt like I was intruding on some serious eye-fucking a minute ago.”

A fiendish grin spreads.

“All signs indicate that Sexy Lexy has the hots for Clarkeypoo too.”

“Stop,” Clarke groans, hiding her face in her hands while she squirms with embarrassment. She shakes it off. “Vacation flings are so cliche, and the last thing I need as a souvenir is an STI.”

“Can we just enjoy a civilised meal, is that too much to ask?” Wells says, shaking his head in dismay. “All this sex talk is spoiling my appetite. I really don’t want to think about either of you in that capacity, ever.”

“Such a killjoy,” Octavia tells him. “Don’t worry, we’ll find someone for you too. A bespectacled, buck-toothed museum guide or something, that’s more your speed.”

Clarke tunes out their ensuing good-natured bickering, eyes landing on Lexa where she stands at the bar, chatting up two stereotypically Scandinavian blonde backpacker types. A tiny, unreasonable ember of jealousy flares in her gut that she tries to ignore. It’s not like they’re anything to each other (yet). Maybe Lexa flirts with everyone to alleviate the boredom of her shift and this is all just a mildly diverting game to pass the time.

As though sensing Clarke’s attention on her from afar, Lexa glances over her shoulder, and in the brief moment when their eyes catch and hold, the slight smile that curves across Lexa’s lips feels like it might be Clarke’s downfall.

#Asks #vacation au #clexa

180 notes · View notes