#i did this one before but here ya go again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

almostfoxglove · 1 day ago

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ALI FAKHSDJGKH okay it's taken me 100 years to reblog this but I WANTED TO QUOTE SO MANY PARTS IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO NARROW THEM DOWN. holy shit. this was??? EVERYTHING. like, this is the canon I needed - redemption for what could have been with Helena and fulfillment of every delusion I've ever had about this man. it felt so true to the world of the show and to javi I'm actually announcing this as Canon. sorry folks!! I don't make the rules!!

gonna pop some favorite bits under the cut :,) AH

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

lord help me I would not survive this I am NOT god's strongest warrior I am a puddle on the FLOOR this is him holding the secretary's finger and complimenting her nail polish all over again DSDKFHJK

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

this is SO HEARTBREAKING ALI like what the FUCK oh my god. I feel like I can hear her and see her scared face and I'm going to cRY ABOUT IT

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys. “Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

sdhkfjhaskjhgfa

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

OHHHHH, to take javier pena apart with a massage!! HOW I YEAAARRRN

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

I love them so much. she's so charming and brings out the CRINKLY EYES and I would die for them both ok ANY DAY ANY TIME

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

this is so !!!!! JAVI. saying it without saying it, ya know? that he sees her. I'm gonna cry brb

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently. “There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

MY HEART POUNDED SO HARD AT THIS PART I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely. Tell me where he touched you.

*screams heard in the distance* *more wailing* *barking* *hollering*

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

THE URGENT IN THE MOMENT NOT THINKING "BABY"??? MY PERSONAL KRYPTONITE?? ALI THIS WAS AN ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

oh my god the pain of this realization fucking SLAPPED ME I just!! was there!! feeling her fear!! my chest is so TIGHT the angst is so GOOD

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special. A code, a message. A lifeline.

this was such a perfect ending. hopeful and soft but also still so javi!! and I'm obsessed with it. I've read this three times, oops. AND WILL DO IT AGAIN <3 all the ways you wove in the moodboard (THEIR LITTLE CODE PHRASE AHHHHH) are so fucking perfect and seamless. ugh. so good. thank you soso much for joining the challenge and sharing this fucking masterpiece with us, WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. you are a talent and a gem and I adore you <3

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 | Javier Pena x reader

summary | Javier's a creature of habit, a man of opportunity, and you were unlucky enough to find him when he's at his most desperate.

author's note | written for @almostfoxglove angst challenge, i really hope i did this moodboard justice ghjfkd. thank you @amanitacowboy for reassuring me while writing this behemoth + translations are at the end.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, informant!reader, set through beginning of season 3 narcos to end, angst, smut, involvement with the cali cartel, paying for info and sex, javier's a gentleman i swear, gratuitous smut, jealous!javi, protected/unprotected piv, creampies, oral (f receiving), some vague violence toward the end, happy ending

word count — 10k

The new influx of customers has been an adjustment, used to the elder regulars with orders that never changed and people who were grabbing a bite after a late night shift, it left you flustered as you reached for the pen and paper shoved into your apron, smoothing out the cloth as you approach the group of men, carrying on their conversation without a care.

“El envío llega el domingo,” It was Friday, which meant whatever was coming in would be here in a couple days—they never said what, but it was always something.

And their eyes always eat you up, hair pulled back loosely as you greet them with a smile, taking down their order as they keep their sights locked on you and commenting on the swing of your hips and the curve of your ass as you depart.

Like rabid dogs, feral and hungry.

You’ve learned to catalog their conversation, catching onto a regular pattern of when things were coming in and out, knowing that whatever nefarious business they are involved in couldn’t be good—but they tipped well and that wasn’t lost on you.

It was almost a month of daily interaction when a new customer pops in, nearing midnight as he settles into his booth quietly, thin button-up stretching over his shoulders as he removed his jacket and tossed it into the space beside him, yellow tinted sunglasses tucked into his shirt, catching the ashtray with a single finger and lighting the cigarette already settled between his lips.

You attempt to greet him, lips parting before he interrupts you, barely acknowledging your presence as he spits out the order for a coffee, black. Dickhead, you think. The pen and paper is shoved away in your pocket and you swing your hips around the counter to fulfill his order with a side of spitefulness.

When you approached again, it was with a nauseatingly sweet smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” You ask, catching his eyes briefly as they flicker up before he shakes his head, a roar of laughter and slaps coming from the booth a few feet away, perking your eyes up at the subtle information they were sharing, scooting out of the both as they slapped a bill on the table, passing by with a vicious smirk that had your blood running cold, the graze of fingertips brushing against your ass that had you biting down on the inside of your cheek to steady yourself, nearly falling into the table as they pushed by.

The stranger perks up at that, his eyes trailing over your body with the same robotic motion as them, but with an air of curiosity, like he was examining you and your reaction.

“No—no, just the coffee,” He assures you, both of you watch as the group of men climb into their shared truck, “those your regulars?”

“Unfortunately,” You let slip without thinking, “I’m sure their boss would hate to hear how loud they talk about all transfers and shipments—can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

His eyes drag to your breasts, more pointedly toward the nametag pinned in your shirt.

He speaks your name before introducing himself, “Javier,” He addresses, turning to dig into his jacket before he pulls out a leather wallet, opening it to flash off his credentials, “DEA.”

“Oh–I’m…I’m not…involved with them, if that’s what you think…” You don’t know why the revelation has your nerves shot, but the fingers that wrap around your wrist ground you.

Javier has spent weeks—not a single lead or piece of evidence to follow. You were his saving grace, a goddamn miracle. He tugs lightly, pulling your attention to him.

“How often do they come in here?”

“Uh,” You blink rapidly, trying to think, “Um—three or four times a week, usually every other day.”

He speaks your name gently, his demeanor changing as he releases his hold on your wrist before he motions for you to sit, looking around briefly to assess how busy the restaurant was.

At this hour, it was only you and him.

You slide into the booth and place your palms against the table, fiddling nervously with your fingers, watching as he puffed at the cigarette a few times before placing it in the ashtray, followed by a generous sip of his coffee.

“Everything they’ve told you,” Javier begins, pointing his finger vaguely in your direction before he points down, fingertip pressing against the table, “tell me—not a detail spared.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your mouth opens, tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you try to access the memory stored in the back of your brain before you remember the small, mostly indecipherable notes you had been taking.

You rip the wrinkled paper from your notepad and pass it over, his brow furrowing as he attempts to decipher the information and to your surprise, he does.

Unknowingly, you had captured a loose schedule they seemed to follow when they shipped things in and out, the day trading off as weeks passed, constantly changing to throw off suspicion, but eventually things overlapped and repeated.

Quietly, Javier pulls his wallet from his pocket and tosses over a wad of bills in your direction.

You stare at it blankly, eyes dragging up to his face as he nods toward the money.

“Should cover the coffee—and a tip.”

You reach for the money, pulling it apart to count, suspicious of the amount.

Prying the bills apart you count, eyes widening as the number rises.

“Sir—uh, Javier. This is…too much.”

“Not for the information,” He clarifies, peering cautiously over his shoulder, “If I come back every week can you promise more?”

You scoff lightly, pocketing the money regardless, “I can’t promise anything—besides, it’s always the same stuff. Just when things are coming and going, nothing more.”

“Can you get more?” Javier asks curiously, an eyebrow raising as he taps the ash off the cigarette and brings it to his lips, “Like, names—anything?”

“I can try, but—”

“I’ll pay.”

Unfortunately, waitressing was a shitty job.

And you were more than willing to allow Javier to turn you into his little informant.

You nod quietly.

His order changes depending on his mood.

He never orders food, usually coffee or whiskey.

Nothing less, nothing more.

And you do dig deeper, giving in to the absurd attempts at flirting and playing it up, allowing the occasional touches that make your skin crawl, returning them with fervor. Luckily, you had a strong stomach and handled it with ease, catching the names of the four that frequented the restaurant often, curiously asking about work and life, giving them vague or fake answers for your own when they pried.

“Three are single,” You tell Javier as you slide him a glass of whiskey neat, “desperately.”

Surprisingly, he chuckles at that. You’ve never heard it before.

It’s a nice sound.

“One is married, two kids.”

You pass him a piece of paper with names and information, trading off for the cash he transfers in return, pocketing it inconspicuously. He’s never there at the same time as them, so the weight on your shoulders is lifted, but the creeping feeling of being watched stays put.

“They like it down,” You retort with a forced smile as a customer passes by with a nod, “so—up it is.”

Conversation was always easy with Javier, his charisma oozes out without even trying. It was natural for him, casually taking your hand into his during a slow shift, examining the lack of jewelry.

“Could get you a fake one, if it would help,” Javier suggests.

Unless you already had one, of course. His eyes flick up in a silent question.

“I don’t think it would matter,” You admit, “If they want something, they’re going to get it.”

The routine continues like this for a while, until eventually, it doesn’t.

A new group of men come in one Friday, the other, and another, throwing you off kilter.

They started rotating them, keeping you on edge as the information is becoming harder to obtain despite your attempts to dig and frustrations arise in Javier, but never with you.

Sometimes they don’t even speak at all, hushed tones at the table unless you’re needed—but, occasionally they get messy. It’s usually the younger guys, inexperienced, fresh-faced, eager to please the big boss but riding on an uncapped power high.

One of the men gets particularly ostentatious, always coming in on a drunken stupor and slurred words, eyeing you like a piece of meat that he was eager to sink his teeth into. He slips you his number more than once, ignores your polite attempts at a subject change when the rest of the men are hyping him up, and rarely takes your refusal into consideration.

Eventually the fear that has built in you overflows, suspicion arising when you leave work a night after Javier had long departed, a night of very little information exchange outside of casual talk—and even that was forced, understanding how frustrated Javier had become.

One of the men had stuck around, only a brief crossover as Javier had stepped into the restaurant, his eyes tracking you the entire way out before you’re pulled in by Javier’s voice ordering his drink of the night, squeezing his shoulder gently in response.

You should have known better, you should have spoken up.

Javier would’ve done something then, but instead, you convince yourself to forget about that uncomfortable feeling that crept in. You knew what would help, biding your time until Javier left for the night, ignoring how he seemed to eye you too, but with a glazed over expression of worry.

There was a car you barely noticed, swallowed up by shadows and turning on as you drove down the road when you finally clocked out, the minutes dragging before you pulled into the parking lot of the chapel you had sped towards with a weight on your chest and a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t recall that last time you had visited, but you were desperate now more than ever.

You needed solace.

Prayer comes naturally, dedicated to begging for protection over yourself, allowing the silence of the space to consume you as soft footsteps of other patrons walked by, just raising your chin as a hand clasps over your shoulder, nearly falling to your ass as you turn to connect the owner of the hand to a body.

“Javier?” You ask quizzically, “Did you follow me?”

“No?” He looks confused, answering with full honesty.

That twisting feeling in your gut sinks further, looking around briefly.

“I can provide protection,” Javier tells you, “if you need it.”

You stay quiet, chewing gently at your bottom lip, scanning the room for familiar faces.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it? I could sense it, back at the diner.”

There was only Javier, still mostly a stranger.

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

“I spent a long time trying to take down Escobar, I find that kind of insulting, chiquita.”

He’s met with silence, understanding your need for reassurance.

“Yes, I am,” He tells you, his gaze unwavering, “I should’ve offered a protection detail to you from the jump, but I figured me being around often enough would work—did someone follow you here?”

“I don’t know, I kinda lost sight of them.”

You fall silent, staring at a crease in the denim of his jeans as you speak.

“Should I be worried?” You ask quietly, turning your body toward him, “Like—are they going to kill me?”

“They’re getting uneasy,” Javier responds vaguely, before assuring, “Not because of you.”

“I should…I should tell you,” You take a breath, “One of them invited me to a party, I have his number. I told him I would have to work some things out, but I never…”

“Was it this weekend?” Javier asks suddenly, the lines in his forehead creasing at the mention.

“Yeah—yeah, why—”

“Say yes,” Javier urges, “I’ll keep you safe.”

It was a big promise, but Javier’s pleading eyes worked like a spell.

“This is gonna cost, Javier.”

“Name your price, hermosa.”

–

Javier’s touch is white-hot, cigarette tucked between his lips as he brushes your hair behind your ear and presses the in-ear monitor inside, hiding it behind the gaudy jewelry attached to your ear and adjusts your hair back over, stepping back and raking his eyes over your frame casually, pinching the cigarette from his lips with his thumb and pointer finger as he blows the smoke out.

“It’s small enough they won’t notice but try and keep it covered,” He tells you, his free hand shoved into his front pocket as his presence fills your apartment, moving around sheepishly under his gaze, “I’ll be a few minutes away, if anything goes south I’ll get you out.”

You stumble slightly slipping on your heels, caught by his tight grip as he steadies you.

“Sorry—I’m freaking out,” You admit, looking away nervously as his grip loosens but doesn’t leave, firm around your bicep as you sleep your other foot inside the hell, “Th—thank you.”

“You smoke?” Javier asks causally as you stand.

“Not really,” You respond, “Occasionally, I guess. It’s probably more social, if I’m being honest.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and offers it to you, placing it between your lips as you take a small puff without thinking or being told, an effective way to calm your nerves as you focused on the action as he points toward the cigarette, “Don’t drink or smoke anything they give you tonight,” Javier warns, “communication works both ways, I need you coherent.”

He pulls the cigarette away and places it between his own lips again.

The nicotine stings your throat and chest, giving you a noticeable distraction that calms your mind. “How do I look?” You force a tight smile, twirling on your feet as the dress clung to your curves, a soft, velvet red, “Fuckable, I hope. Otherwise I’m not getting anything out of them.”

Javier snorts at that, brow creasing at your crudeness.

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys.

“Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

“Yeah, sure,” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips, “fuckable.”

The way the word rolls of his tongue is visceral, ignoring the pulse between your legs at the vibrato in his voice and the chuckle that follows—regardless, it helped ease your nerves.

–

It’s loud, sweaty, and overwhelming.

You thought they would choose something less…obvious.

But, it was becoming more and more clear how much of the town was under the Cali Cartel’s payroll, learning more and more information as Javier shared it with you in bits and pieces, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The idea was to mingle, drifting far enough away from your date that you might happen upon one of Javier’s more meaningful targets, not going as far as to infiltrate the heads, but someone damaging if you sunk your teeth in.

You quickly come upon the realization that most of the men are confusing you with entertainment, rather than being a guest, quickly side-stepping the hands that reach for you as you squeeze your way toward the bar, sliding into an empty seat with a breath of relief.

“They are animals,” The voice beside you speaks—belonging to a man who was scientifically handsome; oddly perfect, hair perfectly coiffed and mused into place, a perfect set of teeth hidden behind plush lips and piercing green eyes—you had memorized the face in the picture Javier had shown you, “¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?”

You almost forget he’s talking to you for a moment, staring up at him distractedly before Javier’s voice speaks softly in your ear, “Answer him, chiquita. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Oh, yes,” You answer quickly, moving in closer to converse over the roar of music and the heavy buzz of strobe lights flashing overhead, “I seem to have lost my date, though.”

“Don’t worry,” He smirks, “I will keep you company.”

It does take a few drinks and you nursing your own, but you play into the act of being a mere accessory on the mysterious man’s arm, allowing him to drag you around the club with no real path to follow, eventually ending up with a smaller group of men huddled away in a corner, standing dutiful and quiet as the men talk amongst themselves in obscure words, almost like a code.

“I can’t—I can’t hear them,” Javier’s speech is garbled, drown out by the music as you squint at the pain of the feedback in your ear, “can’t—hurry—”

Eventually, you find an opening to excuse yourself.

“Hermosa,” The voice freezes you in place, but the touch is gentle, surprisingly, “I would like to see you again, outside of here—”

You quickly ramble off the name of the diner, attempting to pull away, but not before a kiss is pressed against the front of your hand, feeling the heat burn through your skin like a brand before you’re slipping through the crowd, unable to take a deep breath until you’re outside.

You walk the distance to where Javier had parked originally, finding him buried deep in a conversation with someone who had pulled up in another car, hands curled around the driver’s side window, his head turning as he heard the distinct click of your heels.

“Fuck,” He curses, approaching you with his hands hovering around you—not touch or prodding, almost hesitant to cross that boundary unless it was absolutely needed, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You answer confused, nose scrunching up as you peered around him at the unknown agent, his window rolling up before he drove off, “what’s that about?”

“We think someone might have jammed the comms—there’s no way to know, it could have been the club itself, one of the agents is going to look into it—”

“Can you drive me home?” You interrupt suddenly, rubbing at the spot on your hand that the man had kissed, feeling dirty, “I’m full up on being felt up tonight and I want to change.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javier replies after a moment of hesitation, “let’s go.”

You rip the device from your ear the moment the passenger door closes.

–

Javier places your heels against the floor as you walk barefoot into your apartment, a simple but kind gesture as your belongings scattered against your kitchen counter, fingers dragging through the front of your hair and back as you smeared your makeup in the process.

“Oh, the uh—the code,” You remember suddenly, “something about a bridge, as the sun rises…something with water. The guy, the picture you showed me. He approached the four you told me were important. I don’t think they liked me being there, but I also think they assumed I was too ignorant to remember a few words.”

Javier pauses, hands digging into his hips as he paces near your door.

“Do you want a beer?” You ask curiously, the furrow in his brow sinking deep as he attempts to decipher the code, he nods silently.

You figured with the information bestowed he would leave, but instead he stays, sipping at his beer for over an hour as you watch him move, his brain working things out in real time.

He’s beside you know, hands pressed into the counter as he pushed his body away, staring down at his feet as he repeated the words aloud, but quietly, like a murmur.

“Are you sure they aren’t distributing right under your nose?”

Javier’s head tilts to the side as he looks at you, confused by your analogy.

You stare out your window for a moment, curtains pushed open, the gray luminescence of the moon illuminating the inky night sky, “I mean, they’re obviously paying people off, always partying at clubs—wait, the bridge and water,” A thought pops into your head, grabbing Javier by the hand before you’re pulling him to your apartment window, “what if they’re meeting on boats? I mean, not to say that’s how it’s getting it in, but—”

“That…makes sense,” Javier says, void of any distinct emotion as he takes a long chug of his beer before placing it on the ledge of the window, rubbing at the shoulder of his opposite arm.

“Annoyed you didn’t think about it first?” You tease, turning to tilt your head at him like he had earlier.

“Hadn’t gotten that far yet, we’re still trying to put the pieces together,” He grimaces at the tightened muscles, rolling his neck as his hands settle back against his hips, “that’ll help, though.”

“Sit down,” You urge him, pointing toward your couch and Javier looks at you with dull amusement before you’re urging him again with your insistent finger, eventually he relents.

Immediately, you round the back of the couch and allow your fingers to dig into his shoulder, working out the soreness with deft fingers, “Shit—you don’t have to,” Javier begins to protest before your hand is curling around the back of his head and pushing it forward, molding him to how you needed him positioned as your fingers dig in deep, “that’s, fuck, that’s…shit, right there.”

His voice is pure erotica, but it makes your lips curl in amusement. It was that pathetic desperation you heard so often from the men you served daily—that slight pitch to their tone as they tried to grab your attention, but with Javier, he’s completely detached.

His hands were tucked between his legs, head resting forward as you dug in with a strong, pointed touch, his groan reverberating down his spine.

“Oh, come on,” You tease, “I was just getting started.”

Javier shakes his head and stifles the laughter in his chest, resting against your couch as his hands circle the beer in his grasp, looking up at your face, tilted down toward his own as your fingers curl around the back of the couch, straps slipping down your shoulders in your relaxed state.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Javier checks, given you’ve had a proper amount of time to wind down from the adrenaline of being inside the club surrounded by dealers and potential kingpins.

He’s worried. He barely knows you and he’s still worried.

“It’s a rush,” You admit candidly, “But, I’m pretty resilient, Javier. Work is work. I’ve dealt with worse assholes on the job, I’m good at putting on a face when I need to.”

“What about now?” Javier asks curiously, eyes exploring your morphing expression of amusement to bashfulness, the way he’s staring at you outright, words unspoken.

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

He doesn’t like the way this job winds him up, the tension taught in his spine and unrelenting, staring up at you with a tinge of a buzz from the alcohol and the sight of your sloping breasts spilling out of your dress.

He’s used to driving miles and miles for peace of mind and a nice body to sink into, but you’re here, you’re smiling at him and he’d be damned to refuse the opportunity you’re presenting to him, leaning down as his hand comes up without thinking, twisting in your hair as his head turns to meet yours at the same angle, placing his beer down in the same instance.

“The fucking worst,” He echoes, his hands crawling up the edge of your dress as you climb over the couch with his guidance, speaking through rushed exchanges of lips, his hot, beer-tainted breath against your skin as he situates the dress up at your hips, straddling him without a second thought, “you were right about the dress—”

“Fuckable,” You both agree in unison, sighing audibly at the kiss he places to your chin, neck, shoving his face between the valley of your breasts as you work silently at his jeans, the clang of his buckle, metal against metal as you loosen it enough to free his straining cock, his breath catching as you wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his shaft.

“M-My wallet,” He chokes out, muffled as your tongue dips into his mouth, stop briefly to savor the touch as his hands cups your face, eventually drifting into your hair in a similar manner to earlier but then he’s tugging, “got—got a condom.”

“Of course you do,” You snort in merriment, “is that—is that what we’re doing?”

Javier nods eagerly, never separating more than a millimeter from your lips as you stare at him, his eyes staring right back, searching your expression for any minute twitch of deception.

When Javier fits himself inside of you it is with a broken grunt, a curse under his breath, and a hand squeezing tight at your hip, fingers digging into the bunched up cloth as he wraps his opposite arm around your back, pulling you toward him with a sharp snap of his hips.

You gasp, falling over the back of the couch as your hands grasped at the surface in desperation, the start of a quick but all consuming pace of his hips, his lips mouthing at your skin; arms, fingers, even over your ribs, biting gently through the velvety fabric of your dress, stifling his shaky moans, attempting to avoid the glaringly obvious fact that he hasn’t been able to release his stress like this in weeks.

A willing participant, a body, convenience.

Deep down, you know.

But, you found yourself in the same mix of issues.

Regardless, you both ignore it.

–

Javier is gone by morning—or, what is left of it.

The exhaustion of the night and the sex catching up to you, coming undone on his cock as he gripped your ass, feeling the bruises he’d left in the process and remembering the soft, filthy words of encouragement he had whispered against your skin as you came.

He even locked your apartment and slipped the key under the crack in the door, stumbling toward the glinting gold piece on the ground and the folded up note on the ground, eyebrow creasing at the sight as you kneel to the ground, adjusting your dress hastily. You squint to read the hastily written note.

Got a lead. Money is for last night.

You peel the paper open and spot the money inside, eyes widening as you slowly realize that this was far more than he’s given you before, nearly double the first time, slowly you fold the paper back over and check the back, inspecting the item as a whole before you notice the writing on the back.

We should do it again sometime, chiquita.

You look up at the door slowly, at the cash, before peering over your shoulder at the couch, still indented with sleep and a blanket strewn carelessly over the cushions.

He paid you for sex. He’d made it transactional.

There’s a brief moment where you’re stricken with offense, half the mind to track him down and chew him out, but you remember how your exchange started and ultimately how it would end.

Plus, it was half your rent paid for from the result of the type of sex you haven’t allowed yourself to have in far too long, disconnected from feeling and fully freeing.

Besides, it must be a regular thing for Javier and you couldn’t even blame him.

He was only doing his job.

–

A protection detail does work for a brief time, at least, it eases some of your worry.

It was a younger agent, Javier had told you, little to no responsibility outside of keeping his eyes on you and reporting back when necessary. As some of the leads start to blossom, Javier appears less and less, but still follows through on his payments when you have information to exchange, even if it’s only a name or time of day for something.

You do find the boldness to ask him about the money he’d forked over for sex, flowing lightly into conversation as he gives you a recount of his time with Escobar after a night of curiosity and lacking customers drags you into the booth beside him.

Always taking careful note of any personal tidbits he would offer. You knew he wasn’t married or that, at the very least, he was an expert at hiding it. No kids, no spouse, no baggage.

“Is it hush money?” You ask bravely, counting through your tips for the night as he sips gingerly at the glass half full of whiskey, “Because if so, I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyways.”

His brow creases, confused for a brief second before you mouth the words.

My couch, the sex.

“Didn’t want things getting confusing,” Javier admits, “If it’s any consolation, the sex was good.”

“You’re too complicated for me anyways,” You snort softly, separating the bills accordingly as you glance over at him briefly, a soft hum in his throat as his lips wrap around the edge of his glass as he downs the rest of the liquor, “Was it a one time thing?”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Javier admits, “figured I should draw the line early—you aren’t offended are you? Because if you need me to remind you how good it—”

As you finish, dragging the money into one pile, you shrug, “I’m off in thirty.”

The sway of your hips as you exit the booth and head toward the back of the restaurant is enough to have Javier suffering half-hard in his jeans, legs widening as he inconspicuously rubs his palm over the denim to adjust himself, awaiting the small nod of your head around the corner that comes half an hour later.

–

Javier is efficient, you learn.

What first starts off as a casual trade turns into pure, unrestrained stress relief.

It bleeds into work for both of you, finding time to drag him off into the back office when you knew it was available, fucking over the desk with any empty kitchen and diner as the hours waned into the early morning and everyone was either on break or asleep.

You never offer up much about yourself, very little about your life before moving to Colombia or why you’ve stuck around for so long—but he does know you’re disconnected from your family almost entirely, completely alone.

He has a huge family back in Laredo, people that clearly care about him, catching him on the phone with his father one night as they bickered lightheartedly, something about Javier needing to find time to vacation sooner rather than later.

When you have sex at your apartment, he always smokes afterwards, whether in your bed or by the open window in your living room, always careful about the barrier of clothing that remains, never entirely naked in front of one another.

He doesn’t look at you either, won’t kiss you further than something quick—a wet, sloppy exchange of tongues as he fucks into you from behind, pulled back tight to his chest as his hand strains and squeezes around your neck to turn your head toward him.

And he never stays, doesn’t stay hung up on goodbyes.

He waits until you’re asleep, places the money at your bedside, and leaves.

But, there is a moment when you hear the tone in his voice switch, almost offended.

You’re both naked from the waist down and he’s thrusting into you lazily as his lips latch onto the section where your neck meets your shoulder, recounting the details that you’ve learned today, easily killing two birds with one stone.

He mentioned something earlier that night about a bust gone wrong, chewing frustratedly at his bottom lip as he spoke more with his eyes than his words before you had dragged him toward the back.

“Benny offered to take me on a date,” You address lightly, voice hitched as Javier used his palm against the inside of your thigh to spread it wider before it curls around the back of your knee and pulls up high over his lip, “he bought me an outfit and everything.”

He racks through the catalog of names in his brain.

Benny. Benny…Benito?

He wasn’t aware he’d spoked the name out loud until you’re responding with a soft acknowledgement as the desk bangs against the wall, your hand flattening out behind you for support, “Yes—same thing. I’m sure it’s for the—”

“The gala, yeah.”

He had spent the past few weeks trying to approach a way to get inside, knowing that this would be an opportunity to track the ever-expanding tree of sellers and suppliers, a front for the obvious drug trade that was happening, as you phrased it, right under his nose.

The boat lead had only gotten them so far, knowing that there was much more nefarious shit going on that he was grasping at straws to collect off of, using you as his main source of information.

He knows it’s dangerous, but damn were you good at it.

“When did that c—come up?” Javier asks, grunting into your neck as his orgasm creeped in, his fingers drifting expertly over your clit as they had a dozen times before.

“Couple weeks ago,” You reply casually, both you falling into your eventual orgasms and only hearing him speak as he’s already disposed of his condom and was buttoning his jeans up.

“When were you gonna tell me that?”

It feels like a heavy weight on your chest, the clear betrayal in his voice coming from absolutely nowhere, immediately forcing you into defense mode as you sneer at him, adjusting your top back into your jeans as you tie your apron around your waist.

“I’m telling you now,” You retort, “I wasn’t even sure he dropped the clothes off here yesterday.”

It couldn’t have been that crucial of a detail, given that the gala wasn’t happening for another week according to the information that had been figured out.

Javier looks stiff suddenly, shoving his wallet into his back pocket before your hand is twisting around his bicep and shoving him back until he faces you.

“Is there something you need to say?” Your eyebrows raise slightly, expectant of the harsh words that were bound to be slung your way.

“I’m paying for information—honesty, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also paying to have sex with me.”

Javier isn’t sure why he feels it—it isn’t jealousy, necessarily. Just betrayal, that over the last few months you didn’t feel comfortable enough to share the information with him immediately, weary of the temptations of the cartel and the idea that they could pull you in, flip you against him.

He worries for your safety and well-being, knowing that he would be the one living with that guilt if anything happened to you. You were a friend at the very least, something few and far between for Javier after Steve had left. If he wasn’t at work or his own apartment, he was with you.

Javier forces a breath through his nose and huffs, eyes flicking toward you intensely.

“It’s important to know this shit, so we can prepare.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, alright? It’s not like I’m keeping secrets. I’m sure you could do your research on me if you wanted, if you haven’t already. I have nothing to hide and nothing to gain, Javier.”

His shoulders relax slightly, widening as he puffs his chest out and takes a breath, “Yeah, but they have plenty to gain from you—we have to stay ahead.”

Always one step ahead.

–

The gala comes and goes without much preamble—and you know you’re serving as mostly arm candy, dressed scantily as you hand on the arm of a man you barely know, paraded around as a prize he’s won and showing off to his friends, but he’s surprisingly respectful.

Or, biding his time. You couldn’t tell.

You don’t force off his small advances, a gentle touch or something too close for comfort as he lips pressing against the shell of your ear, whispering something you don’t pay much attention to as you survey the event, spotting a flurry of faces familiar and unfamiliar, picking up on names and information as it arises.

Javier could still hear everything on his end with the small, nearly invisible communication device shoved into your ear, hidden underneath your hair similar to last time, careful of which side you allowed Benny on.

“My boss is sending us on vacation soon,” You didn’t pay much attention, but Javier was, “could be fun, if you wanted to go—I could talk to him, he’d like you.”

Perfect. Useful. You can already hear the words that would float around if the opportunity arises. You prayed it would never get that far.

“Change the subject,” Javier says tensely, knowing you were traversing into dangerous territory.

“I’m sure your boss won’t mind, I’ll talk to him, too,” You can feel the smirk over your shoulder before you turn, wondering if he had ever met the owner of the diner or he was purely assuming, regardless, you laugh it off quietly.

“I have to stick around and keep things going, they wouldn’t survive without me,” You switch gears easily, “I don’t see you often, just your friends—why don’t you come around more?”

He’s only appeared a couple times and both were brief, first to ask you to the gala and then to give you the dress, almost like he’d rather avoid the place entirely. You were careful of giving him any personal information outside of where you worked, knowing that it wasn’t already accessible information.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t think it’s about what I want, is it?” You retort playfully, a smirk growing on his face as his thumb slides over your chin, careful how deep of a jab you make, “It’s up to you.”

Benito’s hand rubs over the back of your dress and down, fingers modeling against the loose wrinkles in the fabric as he moves over the curve of your ass and squeezes, a small squeak escaping your lips as you bite down at the inside of your cheek, ignoring the knee-jerk reaction to elbow him in the stomach.

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

The next hour drags painstakingly slowly, but eventually Benito drops you off at the diner at your insistent request, despite his pressuring you to invite him back to your apartment.

When you step into the threshold of your living room, Javier is already opening up the dinner had ordered at your subtle request earlier that evening, a smug smile on his face as you shake your head in exhaustion, sleeping over you hills in and instant and half-way stripping out of your dress before you even make it to your bedroom.

Javier grins in amusement as you thrust the device that you rip out of your ear into his chest, quietly tucking it away on the table as he prepares the food.

You’re dressed for comfort when you return, a shirt reaching beyond your thighs as you settle the bare skin against the barstool, underwear peeking out as you sit, immediately shoveling the food into your mouth.

You ramble out the names you caught onto, watching as Javier scribbled them down, rubbing at your temples to soothe the growing headache as you finish up your food and shove it aside, eventually slumping against the counter as you groan weakly.

You can feel Javier’s hand graze your knee, squeezing gently at your thigh, a silent invitation.

“I’m so tired, Javi,” You admit, “You can keep your cash, don’t worry. The whole thing was a bust, anyways.”

The chair creaks as Javier leans toward you, whispering against your ear, “Ven aqui,” He beckons as he pulls at your arm, guiding you silently to your room, half-expecting him to tuck you into bed and leave, but then he’s guiding you backwards toward the mattress and spreading out between your legs on the duvet as he removes your underwear, your lips forming into a subtle pout until he’s splitting you open with his tongue, a gasp escaping at the sudden sensation, fingers twisting into his hair roughly.

“Javi, what are you doing?” You inquire—it was new, a careful line drawn between you both earlier on that it was strictly sex, disconnection, but now he was trying to leave the impression of his tongue against your cunt as he devoured you all at once, squeezing at your thighs to spread them open further, a sated expression on his face that had to be a mix of his own exhaustion, delirious with want.

“There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,” You squeeze down tightly as your eyes fall shut, his mouth sucking over your clit as your back arches off the bed.

You come faster than you expect and had you known his mouth was so talented, you would have suggested this earlier, but through the waning of your orgasm you feel his tongue drifting over your skin in the wake of his previous touches, lapping at the salty skin before his tongue eventually finds the way toward your breast, swirling around the sensitive skin as your nipple hardens against his mouth, innately curious of his actions but not voicing them.

There was never any predicting with Javier, figuring that maybe he needed a little more distraction tonight, but as your orgasm dissipates and the hand in his hair stays, he never moves, only a low rumble to his breathing as you attempt to catch your own breath before you’re slowly leaning up and realizing his eyes were shut and he had fallen asleep.

Whatever was ailing him had finally taken hold, able to squirm away through his heavy sleep before you’re draping a blanket over his frame, still dressed from the day.

You can’t find the courage inside yourself to disturb him as he took up half of your bed, opting for the couch in the off-chance he woke up in the middle of the night to you beside him, stirring up another list of issues you didn’t feel like dealing with.

–

Surprisingly, you wake before him. The sky barely fading out of night as you stir, rising from the couch as the bulky phone on the counter—it was Javier’s, you knew that.

But still, you answer it. It couldn’t hurt, just tell them to leave a message.

Instead, as you hear the familiar voice on the other end, you find yourself pulled into an unsuspecting conversation with his father that drags into the morning hours as the sun rises, meandering over breakfast before you here him stirring in the other room, trying to ignore how pleasant but telling the conversation with Javier’s father was as you place the phone down on the counter and begin cooking breakfast, silently, still half-dressed in the clothes from the night prior, minus your underwear strewn somewhere on your bedroom floor.

He’d asked how Javier was doing when you told him your name, surprised that he was familiar with you, learning that Javier had spoken about you to him, though briefly.

Probably in passing, maybe. You try not to dwell on it.

“He seems fine,” You told him, “Busy, though.”

He’s always busy, he tells you. Cuidar a mi hijo.

He was worried, rightfully so. But, Javier was an adult, his own person.

He wasn’t your responsibility and you weren’t his.

And you try to ignore the strange sensation in your chest at the immediate elation from his father hearing your name, like an old family friend hearing from you for the first time in years, even though you knew very little of his father.

You’ve learned enough about Javier, at least. His likes and dislikes, vague interests that he commented on, the grimace in his face that would grow deeper the harder he got stuck on something, a thought or idea.

Javier clears his throat as he enters the kitchen, avoiding your gaze as you slide the meat and eggs onto two separate plates before passing it to him.

“You could have woke me up,” He said, looking up at you briefly with mused hair, his shirt wrinkled from sleep.

“Your father called,” You ignored his comment, “you should call him back.”

“You talked to him?” Javier asks blankly, no distinct emotion shining through.

“For, like, half a second,” You lie, “I just told him you were asleep.”

He didn’t need to know his father’s worry or how much he’d given away about what he knew of you, secrets that were obviously meant to be kept between them, but as Javier chews with thought, eager to break the lingering silence, he asks.

“He mentioned it, didn’t he?”

You shrug your shoulders cluelessly, “I think you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“That I’ve talked about you, or at least, he knows who you are.”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

“He hears you, at the diner—he’s nosey. I’ve mentioned you in passing. I just…I know how he gets, I don’t want you thinking anything is going on,”

“I’m not paid to think, Javier,” You tell him.

It’s disparaging, his nose scrunching up slightly at your words and the emptiness with which you throw them. This is where he always seemed to fuck up, distinguishing work from his life but somehow maintaining the balance of peace and humanity.

Do you want to explain last night? You mind screamed, but instead you offer him his coffee, the usual black with minimal or no sugar, giving him the option as you slide the mug and container in his direction. He fishes blindly for his wallet but your hand stops him.

You sigh, “That’s not—I wasn’t implying you need to now. I—I just think we should maybe reframe what we’re doing, given that things have…progressed,” The word lingers on your tongue while you bite at your bottom lip. “I’m worried they might find out where I live or about you—or the fact that I’m literally helping the DEA catch them and praying can only do so much and I’m here alone—”

“Hermosa, slow down,” Javier urges, shoving his wallet back into his pocket at your guidance and avoiding the obvious domesticity of having slept overnight in your apartment and ate the breakfast you cooked him.

It was in his nature to care, to a degree. It was his downfall sometimes, to a devastating fault. He striked while you were vulnerable and roped you into his own mess, now paying for it with guilt that had seeped into his personal life, spending the entire night prior picturing how Benito was handling you, how he could step in—how it could have been him instead.

“She doesn’t sound like work,” His father had told him a week ago, returning a flirtatious quip as you had passed him his usual coffee and offered him a light for his cigarette after his hadn’t worked, that sort of boyish tone in his voice that his father picked up on in a second.

The lines had blurred with Helena after a while, a similar circumstance that he continued to find himself in—paying for info, paying for sex, attempting to make it impersonal. But, here you were, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made.

He couldn’t see you hurt or send you into danger like he had with Helena, the helpness he’d felt as he discovered her near lifeless body, covered in blood and bruises after she had been beaten and traded around—it couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t.

–

Javier returns with a phone later that day, similar to his with his number attached to a piece of paper he shoves into your hand as he directs you to pack a bag in the case of an actual emergency, something quick to grab that you wouldn’t have to second guess about.

“You’re making it seem like I should be leaving now,” You tell him, taking the items he passes into your hand as you fold a stack of clothes and toiletries into the bag.

Javier shakes his head, “It’s better be safe,” He explains, “I…doubt—I don’t think they would be. We have someone listening around the clock, people on the inside, there haven't been any red flags.”

“What if something does? What if I can’t reach you?”

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” He tells you simply, your face contorting in confusion. “It’s a code—a phrase only you and I know. If you use that, it means danger. Through a note, or that phone. I just have to hear it.”

You zip the bag up in silence, feeling the weight of the web you had tangled yourself in finally settling, curious if you would be back at square one, fleeing to a different country to escape your problems.

You nod, a subtle motion but Javier sees it.

“Javier, we should talk,” You echo once more, though with different meaning, “about last night.”

“I’ll still pay, hermosa—that isn’t a problem.”

You could handle the way it was eating at you.

“No, I mean—I mean why did last night happen? Why is your dad telling me to keep you safe?”

His face hardens at the mention of his father.

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely.

Tell me where he touched you.

“You started this, you know?” You remind him, “You made this transactional.”

Was he scared of you?

Eerily silent he remains, you speak for him.

“I’m not a whore either, so if that is how you view me—I really don’t want your help at all.”

The keys in hand are gripped tight as you chance a glance toward the floor, his body entirely unmoving, his eyes downturned and staring in a similar direction, almost like he couldn’t find the words.

I”m not asking you to give a shit about me, but—”

His answer is a kiss, searing and intense, keys tossed to your bed as his fingers dive into your hair, curling around your head as you make a sound of surprise, steadying yourself as you grip his biceps and stumble backwards, tripping over the dress you had stripped yourself of last night.

You still hadn’t dressed from earlier, his hands flattening against your hips as he molds the soft flesh under his grip, his teething biting into your bottom lip as he murmurs, “Belt, get my belt,” without question, your fingers go to work, ripping the leather away in a practiced motion as you continue to unbutton his jeans, “—think I don’t give a shit, are you fucking insane?”

“A little,” You jest, “I mean—I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

This felt strangely vulnerable, his fingers pulling at your shirt with a deliberate endgame.

Naked in the natural lighting of your room, his fingers reaching for his own shirt as you work his jeans down his hips, appreciating his tanned skin as it shines with a thin layer of sweat. Despite the sticky heat that permeated throughout your apartment, his touch is cooling, comforting even.

“Another freebie?” You tease him further, hearing him snort as he reaches for his wallet and crowded you on the mattress, opening the tight leather before he grabs a wad of cash and shoves it into the sheets before tossing his wallet aside and diving between your breasts.

“Making me a poor man,” Javier retorts, peeking up through your tits as he squeezed them in his grip, mouthing delicately along the skin, “shit—but this, s’fuckin’ priceless.”

“I’m—fuck, I’m kidding, Javier. I don’t want your money. Never wanted it.”

It had always been about convenience, never expecting things to end up like this.

It was a mess, both of you were.

He’s seeing all of you, for once, and you him.

And you know he needs, wants, without saying.

He fucks you slow, legs hitched around his hips as buries his head into the space beside yours, only rising as your noises grow with intensity, the bluntness of your nails digging into his skin.

“Inside,” You beg, “inside of me, Javi.”

He moans pathetically, lips squished against your cheek as his hips falter.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Can I?”

You giggle airly at his question, nodding fervently.

“Mierda,” He curses brokenly, groaning softly into your skin as he pumps himself inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim, oozing out as his hips slow, his hands kneading into your skin as he rests, breathing rapidly against your chest.

“We should—should talk, Javier.” You tell him again, after a moment of silence. “Like, really talk—you know?”

Javier hums in acknowledgment, “Tonight—give me until tonight, okay?”

Tonight was good enough, for now.

–

The first thing you feel when you rouse from sleep is pain.

White-hot and persistent, restrained by your hand as they’re tucked behind your back. You feel more hands, the sound of stiff leather and the smell, overwhelming as it invades your senses.

“I see why he keeps you around,” The voice comes from behind, eyes bleary as you blink before the hand in your hair grips tight, only catching the fist coming at you from your peripheral before your world goes dark.

When you wake again, you’re upright and in a chair, head slung back uncomfortable as you attempt to stretch, feeling heavy and groggy as you move, remembering the moment from earlier you become alert within seconds, eyes searching around frantically as you spot two men.

They were strangers, faces covered, but obviously sent here for a reason.

“Benny thought he could get it out of you,” The man says dismissively, “you foreigners—stupid, messy, predictable.” He grabs the fabric of your dress and plucks the small, miniscule device from the fabric that you missed, squinting to see it before the man breaks it between two fingers and tosses the dirtied fabric aside.

“We got her to ourselves, plenty of time to—”

“No,” The other man replies sternly to the obvious subservient man, “her boss—that’s what we came here for.”

“My boss?” You croak eventually, “At the diner? What do you want with—”

The gun he pulls from his back silences you in an instant. He reaches for the phone on the counter, the yellow sticky note still attached, “That him?”

“It’s mine,” You reply with ease, “I’m forgetful and—”

Your throat swells as he ignores you, dialing the number.

You hadn’t let the reality of the situation settle until you heard Javier’s voice on the other end, careful to not give anything away as his voice comes across more energetic than usual. They didn’t seem upset at the lie, but the finger on the trigger squeezed slightly as his voice came through, a silent order to play along.

“Hola, chiquita,” Javier greets smoothly, “¿Todo bien?”

You laugh softly, “Yes—yeah.”

You know what they want, what they need.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” You beg, voice unwavering as you stare the two men down, both of them seeming satisfied by your ploy to get Javier to the apartment without much argument.

The line falls dead without a response, the phone tosses aside to the floor as it shatters into pieces.

Unfortunately, they weren’t going to get it easily.

–

You wished you could warn him.

One wrong move and the blade at your throat, the gun to your head—they would be your undoing.

You stared blankly at the broken lock and hinge of your door, footsteps approaching as you whimpered, the sharpness of the knife pressing against your skin as Javier whips around the corner and into the apartment.

The white-hot pain returns as you’re met with the butt of the gun, slumping from the chair as chaos whirls around you, curled up on the floor and crawling desperately away from danger as someone screams, gargling as it sounds, probably on their own blood.

You couldn’t look back, breathing panickedly as you hid behind the couch and huddled in on yourself, a gun going off unexpectedly as your ears ring, gasping as you hear the sound of a blade puncturing skin once, twice, before it clamers to the floor.

You wait a moment, although it feels like eternity, expecting the cold press of a gun against the back of your skull, but instead it was a hand and eventually another, the faint smell of a familiar cologne that brought you comfort and warmth.

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

Out?

You look up, his eyes wild but lacking any indicators of violence.

“It isn’t safe here.” He reiterates, “Can you walk?”

You nod weakly, feeling his hand wrap around your waist as he assists you in rising to your feet, still discombobulated and wobbly, he sticks by your side as you grab your things, silent as he eventually, alongside the crowd of presumably agents and police that pass by, invading your apartment, Javier is a guiding light of reassurance before you’re barricaded in the safety of his car.

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

You blink, feeling the sting of tears as you look up at Javier.

“Things are getting worse. It isn’t safe for you here, not anymore.”

“Here? What—what do you mean?”

–

Here meant Colombia.

Which is how you ended up in Texas two weeks later. Laredo to be specific.

Javier had a place close to home. His family.

And you had talked extensively, it was the only thing that kept the panic from consuming you that night as he drove you to the embassy, tying up some loose ends before he drove you to the airport without any explanation until he was shoving the ticket into your hand.

His father had been waiting for you, as somber in expression as his son.

They were so similar it made your heart swell, an unfamiliar feeling.

Javier couldn’t explain what he was feeling for you and you could accept that, but he was careful and adamant in the idea that you would spend your time at his home, already setting you up with a similar job in town, a seamless transition that felt strange, but oddly easy to settle into.

“What if I just left?” You tease him one night, hearing his desk creek as he head slumps into his unoccupied hand, “Would that be easier for you?”

“No,” Javier says sternly, “I’m—this…I think I might be done. Feels like I’m fighting a battle that I’ll never win, feelings fucking pointless.”

It had been months now, curled up on his couch as you stared out the window and toward the empty road, wondering if the chill of fall was creeping in as the cool breeze hit your skin, “No more waitresses to help you out down there, huh?”

Javier snickers at that, though it was quiet.

“Stop that,” He chastises, “It’s not funny.”

You giggle in return, “I know, I know—just remember who’s keeping your bed warm every night, yeah? Oh—and your dad, he keeps asking when you’re gonna call.”

You hear him huff at that, clearing his throat awkwardly as he mumbles an apology to someone on the other end, the faint hum of the office around him feeding through the receiver.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.”

It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special.

A code, a message. A lifeline.

Javier was barely surviving amongst the cartel as tensions had pulled taut and drug trade seemed at an all-time high, nearly unstoppable anymore.

It was beyond him, out of his control.

And for the first time in a long time, he has a reason, a want, to come home.

“Soon, chiquita. Soon.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it worried you immensely.

“Don’t let it consume you, Javi. You’ve done enough.”

On the other end, his brow furrows. Disgruntled and annoyed at how right you were, echoing the similar sentiment his dad had told him a thousand times.

He was done, he wanted out.

"El envío llega el domingo." / The shipment arrives on Sunday.

"¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?” / How are you doing? Are you having a good time?

"Cuidar a mi hijo." / Take care of my son.

#read #bookshelf #angst fic #ficrec #fics i love #almostfoxgloveangst2 #angst challenge shelf #javier peña fic #SCREEAAAAM

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octuscle · 2 days ago

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Exchange student: Athens (GA)

Benjamin was not particularly happy that he had come to Georgia as an exchange student. Athens... He had wanted something in New England. Or at least in California. But he hadn't been able to choose. Athens had taken him.

The introductory week had been a disappointment. His fellow students were almost exclusively from the neighborhood, the boys were interested in football and hunting rifles, the girls in boys. It was all so clichéd that it was hard to express. But there was actually a very good grand piano in the assembly hall and Benjamin had been given permission to use it for his daily exercises after a short audition. He had not yet met his roommate. He wasn't due to return to university until a week later because of some family business. Benjamin was hoping for someone who was also interested in classical music and expressionism. Or at least someone who was also studying literature, art history or something similar.

It was the night from Saturday to Sunday when the door opened with a huge crash at around 02:00. Someone threw a duffel bag onto the bed and turned on the light. Benjamin blinked startled at the sudden light. He couldn't see anything against the light. But it smelled of sweat and a few other things he couldn't identify. The shadow took off his shirt, threw it on the floor and sat down on the other bed. Benjamin's eyes adjusted to the light and he began to recognize something.

"Well howdy, you must be Ben. I'm Hunter, no lie, that's my name, partner. Shoo, it ain't even 2 o'clock yet. What in tarnation are ya doin' in bed?" Benjamin was disgusted. He would have to share the room with a redneck. He turned around and mumbled, “Nice to meet you. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to sleep.” Hunter just said, “Well, that’s on you if ya overlook somethin’, darlin’,” rummaged in his duffel bag and disappeared again. It must have been around 04:00 when he returned. Now it also smelled of booze. Benjamin pretended to be asleep, even though Hunter was making a lot of noise. After he had finished clearing out his things, Benjamin heard him burp loudly a few more times. And soon he was snoring.

When Benjamin's alarm clock rang at 07:00, Hunter was still snoring. He was lying naked on the comforter. Benjamin had to admit with envy that he was well trained. His butt was firm. His upper body was deeply tanned and Hunter was pale below the waist. A guy who worked out in the fresh air. Benjamin's cock got hard. He quickly grabbed his scrubs and headed for the washrooms. He wanted to be at the Georgia Museum of Art early. When he returned to his room, freshly showered, Hunter was lying awake on his bed. Jerking off his morning wood. “Well, howdy there, early riser! Ain't that somethin'! You fixin' to hit the pavement for a run?” Benjamin turned around, embarrassed. Because he didn't want to disturb Hunter while he was wanking. And because his own cock was leaking precum into his boxer shorts. “No thanks, I wanted to go to the museum.” “Real neat, we got one 'round these parts? Been here a whole year and didn’t even know. Might just tag along next time, if y'know what I mean.” “That would be nice,” Benjamin replied as he hurriedly got dressed and left the room. He had to go to the washrooms again before he went to the museum. He really needed to wank. He thought about Hunter.

He wasn't really focused in the museum. At the beginning, he made sketches of the halls and the works of art on display. He was actually surprised by the quality. There were top-class works here. But when he caught himself doodling a stag in his notebook the third time, he decided that he would probably be better off getting some fresh air. He took his rucksack out of his locker and left the museum. The fresh air did him good. Benjamin walked along Campus Road. He passed the Georgia Museum of Natural History. It was still early. He went inside.

Natural history wasn't really his hobby. But Benjamin was fascinated by the dioramas of the local animal world. He enthusiastically made sketches of the deer. Why the hell had he already made them at the art museum? And why were the deer he was drawing now often hunted prey? He probably just couldn't get Hunter out of his head. He was getting a hard-on again. Benjamin made his way back to the dormitory. Hunter and he hadn't got off to a good start. But now he would like to put that right.

"Down at th’ park wit’ the boys, tossin’ sum balls ‘round. Y’all come on by if ya wanna join!" The note was on Ben's pillow. There was a lot else lying around the room. It was as if a bomb had gone off. Hunter was obviously not the tidiest of people. There was a camouflage T-shirt on the floor. Benjamin pressed it to his face. It smelled of sweat and masculinity. He couldn't help it. He had to jerk off again. This time it came with unexpected force. Shit, on the floor, on the bed, his cum was everywhere. He took one of his dirty towels from the laundry basket and tried to clean it up as best he could. And then he made his way to the park. He had to watch Hunter play football with his buddies.

Benjamin had to search a bit to find Hunter and his friends. But it was worth it. A gang of young rednecks in the prime of their youth, on their way to becoming real men. Their muscles were glistening with sweat, their mullets sticking wet to their heads. “Yo, Ben!” Hunter shouted when he saw Benjamin. Benjamin was amazed that Hunter had recognized him. Hunter ran up to him and did a fist bump, which Benjamin returned somewhat awkwardly. “Hey there, what in tarnation are ya doin’ just standin’ ‘round like a bump on a log? Get yourself changed and hit that field!” Benjamin said that he had nothing to change into. “Floyd, you knucklehead! You got your gym gear?” Hunter yelled across the pitch. He, who was presumably Floyd, yelled back “Sure thing!”. Hunter went to a bag and threw it to Benjamin. “Here ya go, this oughta fit ya, Big fella!” Benjamin was a little embarrassed to just change in the open field. But there was no turning back now. The last time he had played football was five years ago. And he had been bad. Really bad. Now he was standing on a field in sweaty, oversized clothes belonging to a guy he didn't know called Floyd and had to play football with a guy he hardly knew, but had already wanked off on twice today. The ball flew towards him. Benjamin caught it with a leap. “To me!” roared Hunter. And with a powerful and precise pass, the ball flew to Hunter. “Bloody hell!” thought Benjamin.

The sun was about to set. The boys were lying on the grass, drinking some kind of isotonic thirst quencher. They had all taken off their shirts. Hunter's head was on Benjamin's stomach. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, buddy! You best be chowin' down more and hittin' them weights less. That belly of yours ain’t got no softness to cuddle up to!” “In your dreams!” replied Benjamin, tousling Hunter's wet hair. Damn, he was well on his way to becoming a jock... Benjamin and Hunter spent the evening together, when the sun went down, they went to the movies and then out for a burger. Benjamin had never spent a Sunday like this before. It felt wrong. But it felt so good!

The next morning, Hunter's alarm clock rang at 05:30. “Dude, running and gym!” he said as he shook Benjamin awake. Benjamin had done more sport yesterday than he had ever done in his life. But without argument, he put on Floyd's dirty and sweaty clothes and the two of them set off. Benjamin actually had his first lecture at 08:30. English poetry of the 19th century. But he couldn't leave Hunter to bench press on his own. And so it was 09:00 when he arrived in the lecture hall. In his sweaty gym clothes. Without his homework. His professor asked him to join her after the lecture to explain to him clearly that this was not the performance she expected. And that he would stink. Benjamin raised his arm and took a deep breath from his armpit. “You're damn right,” he said, nodding appreciatively. His cell phone vibrated. “Fucc dude, 4got my laptop. Bring it by, bruh. Warnell school of 4estry and natural resources” Benjamin knew where that was. Behind the natural history museum. Next lecture wasn't for another hour. Benjamin sprinted home, grabbed the computer from Hunter's desk and ran into the department. “I'm at the entrance, bro,” he wrote. ‘Cum 2 the library,’ Hunter replied. Benjamin followed the signs. Floyd was waiting outside the library. “Hey y'all, thanks a million! You’re a real lifesaver for Hunter and me. And I gotta say, them clothes are lookin' sharp. And that mullet? Pure gold!” Benjamin blushed and said that he would do the washing today and Floyd would bring the clothes back clean tomorrow. Floyd laughed and said that they had only been on for a week, a bit early to wash them. Benjamin joined in the laughter and headed off to his next lecture. Bloody hell, what had Floyd said. Mullet? What mullet? He ran his fingers through his hair sweaty from running. It was sticking to the back of his neck. Benjamin searched for a window pane to look at his reflection. Shit, he had a similar hairstyle to the boys.

Tuesday morning was Hunter and Ben's first lecture, “Ecosystems and Habitat management” in Professor Castleberry's Wildlife Ecology and Management class. They both got quite a telling off for missing the first lecture the previous week. Hunter's excuse was that he couldn't leave his parents' hunting lodge because of the storm. The story of how the bridge had been washed away sounded super realistic. Ben had to bite his tongue not to laugh out loud. He knew that Hunter simply hadn't wanted to leave without killing the big stag. Ben's excuse was less original. The fact that he was wrongly enrolled in art history and literature led to great laughter in the lecture hall. A guy with “corn-fed Midwestern boy” literally tattooed on his forehead couldn't be in a worse place than in a lecture on 19th century English poetry. Luckily, the two best buddies were given two adjacent seats. They hadn't showered after the gym today either. Very few of their fellow students wanted to sit next to them. But it was their lucky day anyway. Although the registration deadline had actually already passed, they both still got a place on the excursion to the “Population biology and ecology” field trip at the weekend. They could hardly wait for Friday. Finally a chance to get some fresh air and hopefully a good piece of game. Their hunting rifles were already threatening to rust.

A few of his fellow students knew that his real name was Ben. But everyone here called him Buck. Hunter and Buck. It just went together. The two of them studied together, pumped iron together, played football together. They hunted together. And yes, they also fucked together. But only without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

Pics by @ki-kink

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #ai image #redneck tf #jockification #jock tf #nerd to jock #broification #bro tf

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azzifuddfanpage · 2 days ago

Note

Paige knocking on Azzi’s door frantically because she wanted to show Azzi something only for Azzi to answer the door soaked and wrapped in nothing but a towel because she was in the shower. Leaving Paige as a blushing mess..and smut 😚

Towel

————

new fic! I also used someone’s requesting for a fic of them having sex for the first time so ya… here she is! Also can someone pls tell me a better name for this like why is Towel the only thing I could think of 😭

1.9k words

tw: smut/ swearing

themes: friends to lovers/ smut/ fluff

———— “Azzi” paige shouted through the shut door.

“Azzi” still no response.

“Open the dooorrrr” paige sings leaning her head against the wood.

“Oh my god hold on.” Azzi shouted, her voice muffled through the wall.

“I wanna show you the Lego I got.” Paige shouted through the door.

“I think you’re really gonna like it- chose it just for you.” Paige continued turning around so she could grab the frozen Lego set from the table.

She heard the door creak open behind her. Turning around, paige grabbed the Lego set and pulled her eyes back up to the frame.

Her jaw dropped instantly, setting eyes on Azzi’s naked shoulders where her wet curls lay.

Her eyes ran over her tanned body. Her beautiful skin covered only by a small white towel, not leaving much to the imagination.

Her eyes tracked down ward, tracking the water drops as they driped down her chest running beyond the towel.

Paige wanted nothing more but to rip her towel off and see just how far-

“Earth to paige?” Azzi said, breaking paige from her trance.

She hadn’t realized how long she had been standing there until then. Suddenly a blush covered her face as she realized she had been caught.

Her eyes dropped to the floor and she turned around embarrassed.

“Oh- sorry- I uhm- didn’t realize.” Paige stuttered her finger running over the top of the Lego set, fiddling with it awkwardly.

A silence filled the room. Tension thick in the air between them.

Paige shuddered suddenly, feeling a soft hand against the bare skin of her arm.

“It’s okay P- I don’t mind if you look at me.” Azzi said innocently, grabbing her arm and turning her so she was now facing her.

Paige did as she was told, a blush creeping over her face as her eyes found Azzi’s again, filled with lust.

“Azzi I-“ paige started.

“Shhh” Azzi said, putting a finger to paige’s lips.

“Don’t speak.” Azzi said, letting her towel drop to the floor, once she was sure no one was there to see her.

Paige gulped. Her entire body freezing. Sure she had been with girls before, but Azzi? This was a whole new level of unprepared.

Paige had been in love with Azzi since they first met at team USA 5 years ago, never would she had guessed that the feelings were mutual.

Fear had always stopped her from making a move, too scared to risk their friendship.

But now that Azzi was here, naked, in front of her, she couldn’t bring herself to move.

Paiges eyes stared in awe, scanning over her body carefully taking in every freckle, every scar on her body. She memorized the curves, the way her hips pulled at her waist, the way her breasts sat so perfectly, the curve of her ass.

Azzi could sense paige’s tension. She had always felt something between them, if paige wasn’t going to move now, she would.

Taking a step forward she pulled at paige’s shirt, tugging her closer so she was in the door, shutting it behind them and locking it.

Connecting their lips, Azzi laced her tongue along paige’s bottom lip. Paige opened her mouth eagerly, sucking in Azzi’s tongue and deepening the kiss.

Azzi led them over to the bed, her arms scowering paige’s body, pulling off her shirt in one motion, shoving her onto the bed, and climbing on top of her.

“This might be the quietest I’ve ever heard you.” Azzi said coming up for breath.

“Just wasn’t expecting this.” Paige said blushing trying to hide her smile.

Azzi leaned over and pressed a kiss to her jawline, sucking against her skin.

Paige let out a sharp breath feeling Azzi’s lips, puffy from kissing, against her neck.

Azzi began to trail her kisses along her, stopping at the band of her chest.

Azzi pulled her sports bra down exposing the soft tissue of her breasts.

Azzi attached her lips, using her tongue to massage the skin she sucked on. Paige wiggled underneath her, feeling the heat build in her core.

Azzi smirked against her skin, using her tongue to outline her name into her chest.

She sat up, digging her knee into her pussy.

Paiges breath hitched from the pressure and her fingers clawed at Azzi’s backside pushing her deeper against her.

“Off” Azzi said, leaning back forward to run her fingers along the edge of her sports bra.

Paige sat up shakily, pulling it off, her skin wet with Azzi’s spit, and covered in red bites. Paige blushed, covering herself up unconsciously, but that only made Azzi smirk harder.

Azzi pulled her arms apart, exposing the soft pink of her nipples perky from the cold. Azzi moaned rolling the bud under her finger.

“So fucking perfect.” Azzi moaned, leaning down to suck agaisnt her nipples. She pulled on the one, her hand reaching over to the other to pull at it gently, listening to paige’s soft moans in her ear.

Motivated by paige’s movements underneath her, begging her to come closer, Azzi moved her hand from her breast, her lips staying suctioned onto her nipple.

Azzi ran her hand down over paige’s abs, feeling them fluctuate beneath her skin.

Azzi looked up at paige, lips still moving and pulling against her breast. Once she knew she had paige’s eyes on her, she moved her hand to the edge of her shorts, inching it down so it was hovering above her pussy.

Azzi blindly moved her hands against her folds, feeling the wetness as she spread her lips apart.

The new feeling of Azzi’s hands against her, spreading her open, and exposing her, while continuing to suck and nip at her hardened nipple, made paige melt.

She winced under her gaze, thrusting her hips up and directing Azzi’s hand to where she needed it most.

Azzi found the soft lump of her clit and begin twirling her fingers in tight circles against it.

Paige let out a louder moan, raising the hairs on Azzi’s skin.

Azzi moved her fingers down, collecting the slick from between her thighs and spreading it throughout her pussy, making sure she was evenly wet.

Azzi’s fingers hovered above her hole, paige thrusted her hips feeling Azzi’s fingers hit against the outside of her hole.

She needed Azzi’s fingers more than anything.

She let out a needy whine, pushing her hands against Azzi’s ass to get more friction.

Azzi pulled off her breast with a pop, rubbing over the fresh hickey with her fingers.

“So pretty all marked up.” Azzi whispered seductively, moving down to lay on paige’s lower stomach.

Paige felt her stomach tighten at the added pressure, letting out a soft grunt.

Before she could needily ask again, Azzi slipped two of her slender fingers inside of her, pulling them back out, and working against her slowly.

Paige moaned, needing to have more speed agaisnt her.

“More Azzi please.” Paige groaned as Azzi lazily fucked herself into her.

“Patience Paigey.” She moaned agaisnt her chest, but her fingers began to pick up speed, curling against her walls and feeling the squishy wet flesh.

Paige moaned as Azzi’s fingers brushed her g spot.

“Fuck.” She moaned, crunching her abs so Azzi’s fingers would hit deeper.

Azzi moved her head against paige’s stomach, moving downward so she could suck at the skin right on her pelvic bone.

Paige was wiggling underneath her, grinding down on Azzi’s fingers as they nailed into her core.

Paige could hear the sounds of Azzi’s fingers fucking against her, the squelching of her wetness filling the air as Azzi’s fingers went in and out.

Azzi’s thrusts got more powerful as paige’s moans sped up.

Azzi could feel paige’s walls of her pussy clench around her fingers, her pussy tightening to the point where Azzi could no longer thrust in and out with ease, instead she just flicked her fingers in and out against her g spot, adding a third finger to throw her over the edge.

Paige could feel herself loosing control, Azzi’s fingers fucking into her was all too much and she could feel her warm liquid begin to spill out of her.

“Fuck I’m gonna come.” Paige growled as she bit her own lip.

Azzi moved back upwards, her lips connecting with paige’s, while continuing to finger-fuck her pussy.

Azzi swallowed her moans as paige came, letting her fingers dig into her ass as she fucked her through her high.

Azzi sat up on paige’s laps, still straddling her hips, pulling her fingers out she separates them letting paige’s wetness drip onto her stomach.

Paige laughed shifting her body and flipping them over so now paige was on top of her.

“Not so nervous anymore are you.” Azzi smirked while being pinned down under paige’s weight.

Paige kissed Azzi’s neck and traced her hands against her boobs.

“Love these.” She said, squeezing them and playing with them as she made her way down to Azzi’s bare pussy.

“Wow this wet just from fucking me?” Paige asked, running her fingers along her core, watching as Azzi flinched underneath her.

“Such a good girl” paige said as she leaned forward and began to suck on her clit as her fingers toyed with her entrance.

Azzi sucked in a breath as paige’s tongue got to work against her.

She could feel herself loosing control already. Paiges tongue moving against her clit in figure eights creating a fast rhythm that left her chasing her high.

Paiges tongue moved down, and her other arm wrapped around Azzi’s thigh pulling her pussy closer to her mouth.

Azzi moaned as paige’s tongue was forced into her hole, the warm soft sensation working against her fast.

Paige could feel Azzi’s juices collecting on her tongue as she fucked in and out of her.

Azzis moans grew louder as she picked up her pace.

As she pulled her tongue back out she slurped up some of the juices that had slipped out of her, bringing them back up to her clit and sucking, before diving back in with three fingers.

Paige began to thrust in and out quickly, while her lips sucked at her clit.

“Don’t stop holy fuck I’m so close” azzi said moving her hand down to push paige’s head farther against her.

Paige switched between sucking and lapping at her clit, fucking her fingers into her feeling her walls tighten.

Paige sat up a little, pulling Azzi’s cunt with her, continuing to pound into her so she would hit her at a new angle.

Azzi could feel her fingers brush her G spot and she threw her head back with a loud moan.

“Fuck paige” she moaned as she felt the warmth carry her away, her cum spilling out as she released.

She lay twitching under paige, as she pulled out her fingers but kept her lips attached to her clit, licking up all her juices.

Once Azzi was all cleaned up, paige pressed a final kiss to her swollen clit and climbed up to lay next to her.

Pulling Azzi’s hips into her she leaned in to nuzzle her neck against her.

“You’re so perfect.” She whispered running her finger through her hair.

“Tell me why we didn’t do this sooner.” Paige continued smiling as she could smell the lavender of Azzi’s shampoo.

“Someone was too scared to admit they were OBSESSED with me.” Azzi teased nuzzling her back, back into paige.

“Ya right. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paige huffed, hiding her smirk.

They lay there contently for a little while longer, before drifting peacefully back to sleep, their dreams filled with all the possibilities of their new relationship.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #pazzi fics #pazzi fic #i love azzi fudd #paige x azzi #azzi and paige #paige and azzi

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 13 hours ago

Text

Not a Word 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, violence, parental abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note:😻.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The cops wade in and out of the house as your world turns as dusky as the ocean depths. You sit at the table, staring as the smell of seasoned pork wafts in the air with the voices and the crackle of radios. Footsteps go back and forth down the hall as shadows loom over you.

The one across from you says your name. Again. Officer Bolton has thinning gray hair but a thick mustache. You know him. He knew your dad and would stop by whenever his cruiser needed a top-up.

“I need ya to write it down, miss,” he taps on the notepad in front of you. “Since ya can’t talk. Need a written statement anyway.”

You blink at him. You feel sick. The smell of the cooking meat is making it worse. You frown and get up. You go to the stove and turn the dial off. It’s probably dried out anyway.

“Miss,” Bolton calls after you.

A sniff comes from behind you and you turn. Sy enters with another officer; Private West. He’s probably about your age.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen as many of us in one place,” West says in a tone brighter than the circumstance.

“Well, it’s a sight to see, isn’t it? Old Don, crushed...”

You wobble forward and latch onto the back of the chair. You can hear the impact of Sy’s fist over and over. You glance at him as his brow furrows. You just got to tell the same story he did. The one he went over before they got there.

“It’s her daddy,” Sy says as he comes forward to help you into the chair.

You sit and rub your throat. You don’t have much of a choice. If you tell the truth, it doesn’t get you much. Your dad is still gone. You don’t know that anyone would believe it anyway. He always told them all you were too stupid.

“Sorry, miss,” West scratches the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean nothing.”

You stare at the paper and pick up the pen. Your hand shakes as you hover it over the page. What happens after? What happens if you don’t listen? Will Sy hurt you too?

You put the nib to the paper and lean forward. It’s like writing a story. You go through what he told you too. You were in the kitchen and you heard a loud noise...

“Good girl,” Officer Bolton praises. “We just need that statement then we can go file the report. They’ll have that body down at the morgue by midnight.”

“Awful stuff,” Sy shudders. You almost believe him.

“Should we keep someone here?” West asks.

“Ya think the engine’s got a mind of its own,” Bolton scoffs over the scratching of the pen. “Sy, you gon’ look after the girl? Don’t think she ever spent a night without her daddy.”

Just like always, you’re not there. They talk about you like a thing. Like you can’t understand them. You’re just the same burden you always were.

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Her daddy just gave us his blessing, like I was telling the Private. You know, I offered to help finish up that old Bronco so we could talk about the wedding...”

“Blessing?” Bolton leans back and stretches his arms behind his head, “well, how about that? Syverson, you a good man. Knowing she need someone, huh?”

“She’s a nice woman,” he puts his hand on the back of your chair. “Quiet. And she makes a hell of a dinner. Seeing as you and the boys came all the way out, I’m sure you can help out with the roast she was slavin’ over. Can’t have it goin’ to waste.”

You put the pen down. That’s it. The lies are in ink.

You stand up and go to the stove. This is how it will be. Same as it ever was but it’s Sy now. You open the oven door and put on the mitts to take out the pan.

“Does smell good,” Bolton says. “My old lady always overheats the damn thing and she got not taste for flavourings.”

“If you don’t mind,” West adds. “I usually just pop a frozen pizza in after my shift.”

“Y’all been so good about Don and there’s lots to go around.” Sy affirms as you carve up the tender meat. Not dry at all though to you, the smell is sickening.

“It is late, past dinner, ain’t it?” Bolton grumbles.

“We’ll get some plates down. Least we can do is feed y’all,” Sy drawls.

You keep your head down and obey his indirect orders. You blood is a flow of ice. You’re trembling as you scoop the gravy and potatoes over the roast.

Your dad’s dead. It’s a startling reality that hasn’t quite sunk in. That’s not what has you unnerved. No, it’s that new truth that you’re struggling to accept. Sy. He’s not going anywhere.

You understand now what he was asking your dad. He wants to marry you, but why? Why you? Your dad wasn’t wrong. You’re boring. You’re dull. There’s something wrong with you. So why would anyone want you when your only family could never even stand you?

💍

When the house is quiet, you don’t know what to do. When it was you and your dad, he ignored you. It was just like being alone. But with Sy, everything is different. Nothing can be like it once was. Like it always was.

He calls your name from down the hall. You haven’t moved from the kitchen table since you served up the roast to the men invading your home. You didn’t kill your dad but you feel like you helped.

If you could just speak up and tell Sy to go home before everything turned bad. No, you just stood there and listened. You put your back to it all and then...

You get up and peek around the corner. His silhouette is like a cloud of gloom at the end. You shuffle toward him, hands fold, feet heavy. He flips on the light and you squint.

“Hey, sugar, you tired? It’s real late, isn’t it?”

You shrug and look at your bedroom door then back to him. You flinch as his large hand lands on your shoulder. You pout up at him and hold back a quiver of fear. You can feel how easily he hurt your dad.

“I’m gonna have a shower, wash the day off,” he says. You notice his tie is undone. “You go on and lay down. You deserve a rest.”

You lower your chin and he catches it in his hand. You bat your lashes and stare up at him. You move your hands behind you and bunch your fingers until your nails jab your palms. He leans in as you stand rigid and terrified.

His lips meet yours and his coarse beard tickles you. He hums as he kisses you softly. You squeeze your eyes shut as your heart thumps. You’ve never been kissed before. Never even thought of it because it was just never something that would happen to you.

You feel as if you might tip over as he pulls away. You stay like that as his hand falls away and he clears his throat. You open your eyes and blink.

“Was that... okay?” He drags his hand over his beard. “Ahh, probably scratchy,” he combs his finger through the hair. “I’ma get nice and fresh for ya, sugar.”

Your lips are tingly and hot. You turn and push through your bedroom door. He’s watching you but you’re too afraid to look back.

You close the door but don’t latch it. You don’t want to make him angry. He exhales and his weight creaks in the floor. The bathroom door clicks and the shower buzzes shortly after.

You turn on the light and glance around. You sit at the folding table. The small beads lay in their clusters, sorted by colour, but you can’t bring yourself to put them into the grid. Your vision blurs as you languish in the aftermath.

You should cry. Your dad is gone. You should be sad. You’re scared, you’re confused, you’re lost, but there’s nothing in your heart missing.

The air ripples and Sy’s yawn frightens you. His shadow moves into the room behind you. He grunts as you watch his arms stretch above him in his grey silhouette. Even then, he is huge.

“You should come to bed, sugar,” he girds as he sits and tests the frame of your bed with a bounce. “Come ‘ere.”

You look down at your hands and splay your fingers over your legs. You slowly stand and turn to him. He tuts as you gape at his shirtless form. He wears only a pair of plaid boxers. You gulp. You’ve never seen a man like that. Through the fabric, you can’t even trace... well...

“You can’t sleep in that, can ya?” He says.

You peer down and up again. You jump into action and go to your dresser. You take out a loose pair of linen pants and a bulkier tee. Before he can react or you can think, you flit out.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and change. The familiar task keeps your panic from flowing over. When you’re done, you hesitate. You gather up your clothes and face the door. You have to go back now.

You shudder and leave the bathroom. You enter your room and go straight to the basket of dirty clothes. You drop in the day’s outfit and stay facing the corner. He coughs.

“Turn the light off, sug.”

You keep your gaze averted as you obey. You turn off the light and tiptoe to the bed. You linger before it. You wince as he locks onto your wrist and tugs you closer. Your knees hit the frame and you let him bring you down next to him. It’s a small bed, narrow just for him, crowded with both of you.

He nestles you against him as you curl up on your side. He brings the blanket over both of you and hugs you snugly. He nuzzles your hair and drones in content.

“Isn’t this nice, huh?” He asks.

You can’t move. If you had a voice to speak, you couldn’t. You just give in to his power. That’s what always kept you safe. To appease is to survive.

You close your eyes and he yawns again, “I’m beat too,” he rasps. “But I’ll be all too happy to wake up next to you.”

His breath puffs into your hair and swathes your scalp in damp heat. As each intake and exhale slows and steadies, he snores like rumbling thunder. It isn’t the noise that keeps you awake though.

The night wears on with the subtle movement of shadows through the window. You listen to the house and its creaks and cracks. Even with Sy wrapped around you, you feel alone. Desolate. You wallow with the whirling winds as they swim through the leaves.

Morning slowly peeks over the window sill but your world is no brighter. You grow restless and squirm beneath his arm. You turn on your back as you try to peel it away. He grunts and draws his hand back, cupping your chest to your horror.

You clasp onto his hand and he purrs, “so soft.”

You pinch his forearm then slap his bicep. He can’t touch you like that! You didn’t say he could. His eyes snap open and he leans back against the wall with a grunt.

“Hmph, sugar, what’s going on?” He asks groggily.

You sit up and cross your arms over your chest. You put your chin down and scowl. He reaches for you again, this time he strokes your arm, and you swat him away. He took your dad, he made you lie, and now he’s just touching you! Kissing you!

You turn quickly and hop off the bed. He calls your name and you wave at him dismissively. You hurry from the room without looking back. Your heart races as you listen for his pursuit. You don’t hear it, even as you get to the kitchen.

You stop on the tile and take a breath. Coffee. You can handle that. He drinks it, just like your dad. You remember. If men are all alike, then all you need to do is cook and clean and keep to yourself.

#captain syverson #dark captain syveron #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #series #not a word #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #sand castle

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starlit-writer · 23 hours ago

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in sickness and in health, ch. 3 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

here is chapter three!!!! this chapter did NOT go the way i thought it would, but i promise we're getting to the whole simon groveling and begging and all that lovely stuff soon - i just cant seem to stop writing these two FIGHTING! as always, if you want to be added to the tag list to make sure you stay up-to-date, let me know in the replies! eat well, lovelies <3

if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

word count: 4,208 chapter two masterlist ao3 link

You were in a forest, surrounded by pines. Snow was drifting down slowly, coating the needles around you in light flakes before they melted from the heat of your breath as you stared up at the grey sky. You felt… at peace, for the first time in a long time. You were wrapped securely in the knotted roots of one of the pine trees as they wrapped themselves over and between the straps of your tactical vest, the wood gently resting against a sticky scarlet mark where your heart was supposed to be. You turned your head as much as the roots would allow, and you could see flames in the distance of the forest, a cacophony of gunshots and explosions ricocheting through your ears as the scent of smoking pine and wet gunpowder reaches your nostrils-

You woke up with a start, a gasp of air drawing through your dry, chapped lips sharply, the movement causing your aching ribs to spasm in a coughing fit. Your hands flew up to your chest to check for the wound that you were so convinced would be there, only to be met with the soft, warm, flesh of a massive tattooed bicep that was flung across your chest. But the everpresent scent of smoked pine, wet gunpowder, and a freshly-lit cigarette was still burned into your nostrils.

It was just a dream.

You blinked a few times, the light filtering through the blinds too bright for your blurry eyes to handle. You tried to lift your head, to move, but your body felt far too heavy and sluggish. You were reduced to your basest of instincts - you felt better than you had in months, but it felt like your omega side had completely overridden your logical one. You tried again to speak, to move, anything, but all that came out from your too-dry mouth was a cracking, reedy omega whine.

That made the heavy arm that was draped over your chest move. It quickly lifted off of you, the bed that you were laying on dipping and shifting like sand underfoot as the massive bulk next to you moved. You flinched slightly as rough fingertips gently touched your cheek, the image of Simon’s face swimming above you as a look of concern furrowed his brow. Oh. That would explain why that scent was swimming around you. If you two had been in a normal, healthy mating bond, it probably would have been easier to recognize. But after the months of distance, and neglect, you had forgotten your own alpha’s scent.

You felt it as your own face morphed into a matching expression. Where were you? Why is Simon here? What the fuck happened? You opened your mouth to say something scathing, the words nipping at the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak, the back of Simon’s hand traced down your cheek, almost reverent in his guilt.

“Shh, shh, love. You’re okay, you’re okay. ‘M ‘ere. Just don’t… don’t move, okay? I’ve got some water here for ya-” his voice broke off as he twisted his torso, keeping one hand securely under your head while the other grabbed a white styrofoam cup with a bright white plastic straw sticking up from the lid and brought it back over to the bed. You had to fight to keep your expression neutral, as the sight of the sterile-looking aerated plastic and the very thought of drinking the disgusting water contained inside made your stomach dip in disgust.

Simon could have cried when he felt your disgust through the bond, the cavernous darkness that had shrouded you from him in his mind finally lifting enough to allow him to feel you again. However, that didn’t stop your feeling of disgust, even if it was directed at the apparently devil-like cup in his hands and not at him, from lodging into his chest like the blade of a knife. He winced and quickly moved the cup away from you, frantically looking around his quarters for some other source of water. When he didn’t find one, a short curse fell from his lips as he glanced back at you sympathetically, regret and guilt shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I- I just grabbed this from medbay… there’s some vitamins and electrolytes and whatever else you combat medics throw in it, and I figured that that would help since, you know, you’ve been asleep for three days.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Three days? Three days!? You could vomit, and you probably would have if there had been anything in your stomach.

Simon sighed, screwing his eyes shut as he realized that was probably not the best way to tell you that information. He brought his hand - the one still holding that damn cup - up to his face, rubbing his eyes with the back of his thumb. Gods, he sucked at this. He ran his hand down his face and moved to get up from the bed. “I’ll just… yeah, I’ll just go get you some, um, different water in a different glass and… yeah, I’ll be right back.”

As he moved to get up from the bed, your hand weakly shot out, your fingers feebly wrapping around his wrist. Simon glanced down at your hand in thinly-veiled shock before he looked at you. You were just as shocked. You were still angry, at least, you knew you should be, but the only thing you could focus on was the way your omega writhed in pain at the mere thought of Simon walking away from you again.

“You need to drink some water. And if you won’t drink it out of this,” he said as he raised the cup, “then I gotta get you something else.”

You looked up at him pleadingly, an absolutely pathetic look on your face. You didn’t have the strength or energy to fight against the instincts right now. Everything in you was screaming and clawing at the idea of Simon leaving, even just to get you more water, and your instincts didn’t care about how it looked, or if it made you seem like you forgave him and were willing to forget everything that happened. You knew, logically, that you weren’t, but logic was so far out of the realm of control, the only thing reacting in your mind was your wounded omega, desperate for the proximity of her alpha.

“I don’t wanna force you to drink this if it grosses you out that bad.”

Another needy, desperate whine was his only response as you let go of his wrist, your shaking hand held outstretched to take the cup. It was a clear message - I’ll drink it. Just don’t leave.

Simon’s gaze softened as he sat back down on the edge of the bed, bringing the straw close to your lips. You closed your eyes, the moment feeling far too intimate for the reality of your relationship with Simon as your dry, chapped lips wrapped around the plastic of the straw. After a few moments of forcing down the polluted-dirt tasting water, Simon slowly and gently pulled the straw away from you, his free hand coming up to your face to brush an errant strand of your hair behind your ear. His heart ached as your eyes fluttered open, still cold and guarded even as he could feel your omega pleading for him to stay through the bond.

“Feel better?”

You nodded slowly, the movement disjointed and sluggish as you brought a shaking hand up to wipe a small droplet of water off of your lips. “Yeah,” you muttered, the words thick and gruff with disuse. The thanks that should have followed that response stayed stuck in your throat like a pill that was much too big to swallow.

Simon nodded in response as he sat the cup back down on the bedside table. He then grabbed a wrapped protein bar, and tore open the packaging with his teeth. With the unwrapped protein bar in hand, he turned back to you, holding the bar near your face. “Eat.”

A pause, a short breath leaving Simon’s lips as he realized that a demand was probably not the best way to get you to do something at the moment.

“Please,” he amended, his voice softer, gentler. “You need to get your strength up,” he added, shifting the bar a little closer to your lips.

You knew he was right, ultimately, but it wounded your ego, accepting his help after all of the neglect he had put you through. You sighed softly and shifted on the bed with a groan as your muscles protested against the tiniest of movements. Simon’s hand quickly wrapped around your aching shoulder to help shift you on to your side, and you settled back down into the bed, lifting your head up slightly to take a small bite out of the protein bar. You figured it would be impossible to swallow, as all food had been the last few months, but you were shocked to find it easy to get down. You sat up slowly, achingly, agonizingly slowly, but Simon, shockingly, was there to support you. You reached out and took the bar from him, suddenly ravenous.

Simon watched as you all but scarfed down the protein bar, his gaze softening with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at his now-empty hands. He hated himself, the guilt and regret of being so blind to you throughout the entirety of your marriage, your mating bond, eating him alive.

You froze, mid-chew of the last bite as you heard his murmured apology. You didn’t know how to respond, feeling like a deer in the headlights of his sin.

“Simon…”

“No, I… I am. Gods, angel, you have no idea how sorry I am. I was such a dick to you, such a bad fuckin’ alpha, and I know that my words probably don’t mean much, or, really, anything to you, but… if I could reverse time, do it all over again, I…”

“Simon, stop,” you croaked out, your gaze fixated on the comforter that pooled against your sweatpant-clad legs, anything to keep your eyes off of him. You couldn’t look at him. It was all too much, far too quickly, and you had nowhere to even begin to parse through the emotions and pain that still existed under your skin like a thrashing beast, even if it felt more subdued than it did three days ago. You didn’t want to think too hard on that, though, wanted to ignore the way your alpha’s presence, his scent calmed the ugly thing, if only slightly.

You couldn’t - wouldn’t - forgive him. Not right now. Sure, he had kept one promise; he had stayed with you, but in the grand scheme of things? It didn’t mean much. You smoothed your hand over the soft comforter, balling the now-empty wrapper of the protein bar in your other hand. Too many emotions, too little time. You felt like you were trapped between your base omega desires and the reality of your situation. The wrapper crinkled in your hand louder as your grip became tighter, the atrophied muscles in your arms shaking with exertion and emotion.

You felt Simon’s hand as it inched closer to you, more than likely to try and bring you comfort, but you couldn’t take it. Right before his hand touched yours, you jerked it away, throwing the wrapper into some random corner of his room in your panic. You quickly scrambled out of the bed, your need to get away from him, from the situation, much greater than any of the aches and pains of your neglected body. You stood in the center of the room, your chest heaving from the exertion as you steadied yourself on your feet, your legs wobbling beneath you.

Simon just stared at you, wide-eyed and frozen.

You stared right back. Your mind was a mess, fractured between your omega and your logical, rational side. Your omega was screaming, tearing at the confines of your skin at the very idea of leaving your alpha, but you pushed it away. You felt cornered, and you were lashing out like a feral cat.

“I- I gotta go.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, and all but ran out of the room. Simon was still sitting on the edge of the bed, shellshocked and staring at the space in the center of his quarters that you were just occupying.

–

It had been about a week since you had left Simon’s quarters. That first day, after you had left, you were violent, volatile - your own quarters destroyed as you tried to release all of the pent-up emotions by throwing anything and everything you could get your hands on before you collapsed into little more than a heap of tears in the middle of all of the broken glass and ripped papers. You had slept there that night, on your floor, but when you woke up, there was one of Simon’s sweatshirts outside of the door of your quarters with a note.

I know you don’t want to see me right now. I know you’re pissed, and you have every right to be. But the bond is still fragile. Just keep this around, please? -Simon

Part of you wanted to burn it, still so full of rage and pain, but the desperation of your omega had you pressing your face into the soft, plush fabric, a small omega purr unconsciously pulling past your lips. As soon as the sound of your purr reached your ears, you threw the article of clothing onto the ground as if it was a ticking incendiary bomb. It was still there, in that corner, but it cursed the entirety of your quarters to smell like Simon, the scent of smokey pine, wet gunpowder, and the first drag of a cigarette cloying to everything, no matter how many of your own clothes you piled on top of it.

The rest of that week had passed by you like a blur. You had mostly stayed in your quarters, focusing on how to control and push down your omega desires, instead replacing them with the rage you knew you should feel towards Simon, definitely not because it was the only place that you could still smell him, certainly not. It was just that the thought of being seen out and about when your emotions and physical health were so volatile seemed like it wouldn’t be the best of ideas, and that was definitely the only reason.

But, today was the first day that you had actually gotten up and took a shower. Looking in the mirror, you noticed that your skin looked much more lively, the sickly grey of the bond sickness had dissipated, and the bruises that had covered your skin had all but faded away. It made you feel… wrong almost, to be, to look, “fixed”. The torment that you had undergone still lived and breathed in your very bones, and seeing yourself without the physical marks of it, even if they were self-inflicted, felt wrong. So, you quickly tugged on some workout gear, grabbed your keys, and left your quarters, determined to make someone pay for the grief and rage that thrummed under your skin.

You dumped your keys and your sweatshirt in a corner by the sparring ring, stretching for a moment as you scanned the gym. Plenty of people to spar with, but, more importantly, no Simon. And, before you knew it, an unsuspecting, far too cocky beta recruit was swaggering up to you. He was new to the base, you could tell. Fresh out of basic training, by the looks of it. You pushed a smirk down off of your lips, as you wanted the challenge. Wanted him to fuck up just so you could absolutely let loose. You batted your eyelashes up at him, really playing into the whole weak omega stereotype.

You ran your gaze up and down the recruit, sinking your teeth into your plush lower lip. You watched as the recruit’s eyes lit up at your actions, obviously taking them as flirtatious. Meanwhile, all you had wanted to do was knock him off his axis, get him thinking hazy.

The recruit smirked, rubbing his hands together. “Name’s Conwell. James Conwell. Need a sparring partner?”

You grinned up at him, the expression so fake and sickly-sweet as you leaned towards him slightly, clasping your hands in front of you. If it pushed your tits together, what was the harm in that?

“Oh, yeah, James, that’d be great! I might need a few pointers though. You okay with that?” The grin that the recruit gave you was downright predatory as he nodded and slipped between the ropes, bouncing around and shadowboxing, obviously trying to show off. You quickly stifled a laugh behind your hand, clearing your throat before you slipped between the ropes as well. Gods, new recruits, especially new beta recruits, were such easy marks. They always had such a chip on their shoulder, desperate to prove themselves, and certainly not above pretending to be something they weren’t to do so. And as you settled into your side of the ring, you could smell just how desperate this recruit was to be something he wasn’t.

He had sprayed fake alpha pheromones on himself. The scent was nauseating, making your stomach roll. But, you pushed it down. You’d play the part, let him get one or two good hits in, then it would be game over for the poor boy.

“How do I start this?” You asked innocently, looking down at the smooth vinyl that coated the floor of the ring. The beta’s (Jim?) grin widened as he sunk into his own fighting stance.

“Just like this, pretty girl.”

You suppressed a disgusted shudder at his words, painting that saccharine faux-innocence on your expression as you pretended to copy him, sinking into your own stance. Yours was a much stronger base, your legs spread wider to better accommodate your movement, your fists actually tucked up to your face as protection, unlike the way the beta kept his hands low over his bare chest, obviously believing the lie that you were no threat.

“You should probably swing first, you know, show an omega like me how an alpha does it.”

That did it. His eyes glinted with that repulsive possessiveness that every douchebag gets when you stroke their ego just right, when you pretend to believe a lie that they’ve tried so hard to force to be truth. And so he did, but it arched wide, giving you the perfect opportunity to dodge under and land a jab right in the left side of his ribs. You popped up, a glee-filled smile on your lips, genuine this time, as you looked at him as he gasped for air, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

He blinked, bewildered, as his head swiveled from side to side in an effort to find where you went. Once his eyes zeroed in on you, his lips pressed into a thin, angry smile, the kind that someone would give an annoying child after they spilt their snack for the third time in a row. “Wow, quick learner, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess!” Your words were bright, your eyes filled with a predatory glint that you tried to hide as you beckoned him tauntingly. “C’mon! That was fun!”

The beta growled in a terrible impression of an alpha rumble, swinging out in the exact same way. It forced you to wonder what the fuck they were teaching these kids in basic training nowadays. The velocity of this punch was slow, and you knew you had to let him get at least one punch in if you wanted this to last any longer than a few minutes before he stormed off with his tail tucked between his legs in embarrassment. Normally, you would have braced yourself for a hit that you knew was coming, but something else hit you before the punch could. Smoked pine. Wet gunpowder. First hit of a cigarette after a stressful mission. It pulled your attention just long enough to allow the beta’s punch to land squarely in your ribs, the force of the impact much greater than the velocity, which promptly knocked all of the air from your lungs. You stumbled back a little, but you forced your gaze to stay on your opponent, not allowing yourself to get distracted by the pheromones that had settled over you like an oppressive coat.

That was, until, you heard an actual alpha growl emanating from the door of the gym. It was so loud, so full of anger, that it caused everyone to stop what they were doing. You rolled your eyes, shaking out your shoulders as you sank back down into your fighting stance, but your opponent was frozen, his hands dropped as he turned to look at where the growl had come from. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he was staring at. You sighed, your head dropping as you saw Simon’s long, purposeful strides carrying his massive bulk up to the ring. You heard your opponent get pulled from the ring, and before you knew it, Simon was in front of you, lifting your head up with gentle fingers.

“Did he hurt-”

You forcefully knocked his hand off of your chin, your eyes hardening. A small omega growl ripped past your lips as they curled up in displeasure. “Oh my gods, fuck off! We were just sparring!”

Simon’s gaze darkened as he looked down at you, but he, thankfully, didn’t touch you again. “You smell like fuckin’ shit. What, fake pheromones are what does it for ya now, huh?”

Your growl increased in volume as you shoved against his chest. The anger, pain, and guilt that swam between the two of you was almost tangible, the tension thick enough to cut through with a knife. You didn’t care. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about what ‘does it for me’,” you mocked as you put sarcastic air quotes around the repeated words.

Most of the gym had cleared out by now. Everyone knew how volatile the two of you could be separately, and when they sensed the heightened anger and emotions between you two, they quickly disappeared. For the few stragglers that were left, Simon fixed them with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean, and they quickly packed their things and also scurried away.

“You wanna fucking punch something?” Simon growled as he took a step closer to you. “Punch me. Not some stupid prick tryna peacock around as if he’s an alpha. You fuckin’ smell like that shit ass cologne he was trying to pass off as his own.”

A downright predatory grin spread over your lips. You were pissed. Pissed that he was here, that he had taken away the one outlet that you knew you had to work through all of these emotions. So, you bit back. You knew you were playing with fire. It was one thing you were always good at, part of the reason the team, especially Simon, called you spitfire.

“Oh, is that what that was? It smelled so good, I thought it was real.”

You were lying, and the smirk that spread over Simon’s lips confirmed that he knew it too. You shook your head, blowing out a frustrated breath as you moved to step around Simon. You didn’t want to be around him right now. His hand shot out to grab at your wrist, but you jerked it away from him.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” you bit out as your teeth ground together. “I didn’t need you to come save me, and you had no right to storm in here like this.”

“No right?” Simon seethed lowly as he turned his head to look at you. “No right? Pretty sure that’s my fucking teeth marking that mating gland right there on the side of your neck!”

You froze, slowly turning to fully face him now. Your expression was set into a mask of absolute, unbridled rage that Simon had never been on the receiving end of. Your fists were clenched impossibly tight at your sides, and you could feel the anger rolling off of you in hot, tangible waves. You had known Simon didn’t know how to be a mate, but you had never imagined that this is the way he would deem acceptable to treat you. No matter what, you were a soldier first, more than capable of taking care of yourself, you didn’t need him breathing down your neck like some sort of denmother. It almost seemed like he was trying to overcorrect from his mistakes, becoming overbearing and overprotective. That almost pissed you off more.

“If that is how you think this bond is going to go, especially after everything you did, I will cut this mating bond out myself. Do not test me.”

You didn’t wait for a response. With that, you stepped off of the mat, grabbed your things, and walked out, not even bothering to look behind you as your hand rubbed harshly over the mating bite on your neck.

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

as always, thank you so so much for the support, and keep an eye out for chapter four! tag list: @kerst666 @misscaller06 @letaliabane @sai-int @itsmeamysworld @massivescissorsthingperson @aeeliy @alkalineapparition @cringeycookies

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gracie-eilish · 1 day ago

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Take me out, and take me home…

an: this is kinda long!! but here is my official fic based on Lover by Taylor Swift:) any blue text is Billie’s dialogue and any pink is readers. I hope you enjoy this one!! seven and Guilty as Sin are both coming soon. Peachy (pt. 2) is also going to be on the way! i wasn’t originally expecting you guys to want a part two so i’ll get writing!! 🥰✨🍑

warnings: intoxication mentioned, slight nudity but no smut, so much fucking fluff it’s like a unicorn threw up cotton candy in here.

alsoooo thank you also for over a hundred followers! that’s so many beautiful besties!! i’ve loved writing about billie and chatting with so many of you over the last few weeks and i can’t wait for more!! love ya💋

🩷🥂🫧💋✨

“Take me homeeeee” You slurred, stumbling out of the party you and Billie had just attended. Billie had an arm slung around your waist while you had an arm around her shoulders.

“We’re going home baby, I promise,” Billie replied with a giggle at your disheveled state. Even drunk as can be, she found you so beautiful. Your rosy cheeks even rosier, your big wide eyes now hooded and hazy and full of love, and the sleepy smile plastered on your face made her just wanna kiss it right off of you.

“Heyy babyyyyy? I have.. a very important question for… you.” You looked back up at her stoically, booping her nose as you said “you.” Billie planted a kiss to your temple to try to hide her giggle.

“What baby?” She quickly bent down to grab your waist again as you stumbled backward, making you burst into the most melodic sounding giggles.

“I’m your baby right?” This sent Billie into a laughing fit. The attempt at a serious look on your face combined with the cutest little question, she couldn’t help it.

She pressed kisses to your cheek and temple in between declarations, “My baby, *kiss* my princess, *kiss* my girl, *kiss* my angel, *kiss* my magical unicorn angel baby princess,” she added the last one with a giggle. That was your little nickname for anyone in your life who meant something to you. Your best friends, Billie of course, your little cat. And it never failed to make Billie laugh when she heard it.

“Why do you ask my love?” She questioned after your giggles calmed down again.

“Because I’m like… soooo many things right? But I don’t have a thing for you, you know? Like I need a thing for you. And I was thinking so hard in my brain tonight and I think I figured it out.” You stated matter of factly.

Billie just nodded for you to continue, holding you up a little tighter, and pushing some hair out of your face.

“You, Billie girl, are my-“ You got cut off by Billie’s phone dinging, signaling her driver was here. Without rudely interrupting you, Billie carefully walked you both over to the car, and carefully guided you into the back seat before scooching in herself.

“You warm and cozy mama?” Billie asked, fiddling with the heater in the back, kissing your forehead after you nodded in confirmation.

The ride back home was quiet, a stark contrast to the buzz of the club you two were just in, as well as to your own drunk ramblings. Some people liked to run when drunk, others call exes, and others just fall asleep. Not you. You were always a bundle of energy, ready to chit chat with anyone who would listen, and Billie found it adorable, never once silencing your tipsy rambles even as you both tried to fall asleep at 4am.

“Billie?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I feel like… I feel like I’ve known you for like.. twenty years. But also that’s like not possible. I’ve only known you for real, for like twenty seconds.”

Billie chuckled at your statement. Another little thing you did after drinking, was greatly exaggerate time. For example, if it was the middle of November and someone complained about you still having Halloween decorations up, you’d gasp in shock saying Halloween was “literally like 20 minutes ago.” You two had been dating for about three years now, so Billie just chuckled understanding twenty seconds was three years in your own little drunken time zone tonight.

“Twenty years is a long time baby,” she replied softly, pulling you in closer to her side, letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

“It’s like such a long time. *sigh* Can we still be this close in twenty years?”

This sent both of you into giggles. Billie couldn’t help herself anymore, smothering you in kisses, each one accompanied by a little “mwah!”

“Baby once I get a ring on that finger, we will be this close for a lot longer than twenty years hun.” She pushed some hair behind your ear, watching your cheeky flush under her gaze.

“For ever and ever, you’re my-“

Your conversation faltered again as you pulled up in front of your place. Billie thanked the driver and helped you out of the car before guiding you up to your apartment. Not without few stumbles and bumps along the way.

You were starting to feel a little sleepy but Billie knew you’d get a second wind once you got inside, but she still got butterflies when she felt you wrap your arms around her from behind and rest your cheek on her shoulder as she unlocked the door.

Billie almost jumped out of her skin as you gasped dramatically at something, scaring the shit out of her.

“Baby!” You had your hands on your cheeks in shock, looking back at her as she locked the door behind her.

“We left the Christmas lights up!” You paused before turning back to face the lights. “Until January!”

“Is that a bad thing?” Billie was so confused but went along with it.

“Isn’t that like… against the rules? Christmas was like a million days ago!”

“This is our place, we make the rules.” Your eyes shined up at Billie like she just revealed the meaning to life.

“Oh. My. God. You’re so fucking right babe.”

Billie chuckled and kissed your temple before guiding you to the kitchen and sitting you down on a stool as she got you some water and a small snack.

“Drink up lovie, I don’t want your pretty little head hurting tomorrow.”

As you sipped your water and nibbled on some snacks Billie went into your shared bedroom to get you some pjs and start the shower.

Billie ran her hand under the water to check the temperature before stopping, hearing such a sound come from the kitchen. She dried off her hand before tip toeing back to the kitchen to find the source of the.. sound? song? cry?

“You’re my my my myyyyyyyyyy,” it was you. And your second wind Billie had predicted. You were spinning around on stool singing.. well singing something, only stopping when you caught sight of Billie.

“Babyyyyyy!!! You came back!” You cried out with a huge smile and your hands out, wiggling your fingers as if it would magically will her closer to you. And to your knowledge, it did magically will her closer as she wrapped her own arms around you, kissing the top of your head a few times, chuckling softly.

“I finished my snack and my water. I’m so good at that.” Billie chuckled and simply placed her forehead onto the top of your head.

“You’re killing me here babe.” She said, lifting her head back up and pushing the hair out of your face. You just shrugged nonchalantly before puckering your lips dramatically. Billie smiled adoringly before leaning in and giving you a soft almost angelic kiss, squishing your cheeks a bit too.

“Alright tipsy girl, you wanna go shower and get comfy?” She said holding your shoulders while you nodded. She could tell you were starting to get sleepy, but she knows you’d be grumpy in the morning if you hadn’t showered and you were hungover.

As she guided you into the bathroom, you were humming that little song again, Billie has never heard it before.

“That’s a pretty song your singing there lovie.” She said, helping you out of your clothes.

“Thank you. I’m writing it myself. Right now.”

“Oh really? You wanna sing some more of it for me?”

“Mmm maybe when I’m in the shower. I need to write more words first.” Billie nodded, holding back a laugh.

“Of course, of course. How could I rush such art?” She replied. “Do you want me to come in with you? Need help?”

You gasped and softly nudged her shoulder, “Billie! That’s dirty!” Billie kissed your cheek softly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Baby it’s not dirty. We had sex in there this morning.” Your jaw dropped and face flushed at Billie’s statement. Your drunk brain not seeming to remember that right now.

“Oh my gosh Billie. You have to promise not to say things like that in front of other people.” You drunkenly pleaded, face totally flushed.

“I promise mama. I save my dirty jokes only for you.” She said with a wink, making you sigh in relief.

“Oh thank god.” Eventually you did in fact pull Billie in there with you. You claimed you didn’t need any help, but you couldn’t deny Billie’s fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp was heavenly. The rose smell of your shampoo mixed with Billie’s woodsy vanilla body wash she used on you wrapped around you almost as tight as Billie’s arms, making your eyes droopy as you rested your head in the crook of her neck, leaning back into her and she pressed tiny kisses to your own shoulder. Her hands slowly roaming around your body, over your stomach, up to your boobs, a squeeze to your hips, a couple more squeezes on your shoulders and back to your stomach where her arms wrapped tightly, and contentedly.

“You ready for bed angel?” She whispered into your ear, hands giving your hips another squeeze. You just nodded sleepily turning around in her arms to give her a proper hug.

“Thank you by the way,” Your words a bit more steady now as you slowly sobered up.

“For what baby?”

“For saving me a seat at the table tonight. Since I got stuck in traffic. I was nervous everyone else would wanna sit next to you,” You said it so small and sweetly that Billie felt her heart grow ten sizes, knowing that at every table, she’d save you a seat for the rest of her life.

“Oh babygirl,” she cooed, cradling your head closer into her as she hugged you tighter.

She gave you one last kiss to the top of your head before shutting off the water. She stepped out and grabbed your towels out of the little towel warmer and wrapped herself in one quickly, before heading back to you. She shut the shower door again to keep the warm air in as she carefully dried you off a bit before wrapping you in the fluffy towel, with a kiss to your nose.

A comfortable silence filled the room as the two of you got ready for bed. Well really, Billie got ready for bed and then helped you do the same thing. You giggled at her focused face as she carefully dabbed moisturizer to your skin, only silencing your giggles with a kiss making both of you smile.

She had her own giggles watching your droopy eyes fight to stay open as Billie dried your hair with a towel. You absolutely melted into a puddle anytime Billie had her fingers in your hair, so her fingers mixed with a warm fluffy towel was sending you to dreamland.

When she finished, Billie helped you off the counter and gave your butt a little pat as she guided you back to your connected bedroom, shutting off the bathroom light. The two of you changed into some pjs, Billie giggled while helping you with the buttons after you whined not being able to do it right now.

“I can’t see sometimes.” You grumbled as she buttoned them with ease.

“You can’t see sometimes??” Billie asked, raising an eyebrow and biting back a smile.

“Ugh you know what I mean.” You groaned, playfully smacking her hand away once she finished.

After making sure you could get on the bed, Billie quickly went around the apartment, shutting off the lights, making sure your pets were okay, and locking the doors before returning and shutting the bedroom door behind you.

She slipped under the covers, pulling you closer to her, letting you snuggle yourself into her side like a little kitten. Once she was sure you were practically purring like one as well, Billie settled into her own pillow, letting her arm rest on your back.

“Did you write more of your song while you were in the shower?” She asked, squeezing your side quickly.

“Oh my gosh, baby I did and I forgot to tell you.” But it came out more slurred, your eyes were closed and Billie knew it would be minutes before you were fast asleep.

“That’s okay baby. You can tell me now. Sing us to sleep mama,” She whispered, kissing your cheek before settling back in your hold.

“Wait I forgot how it goes.” You were still a little drunk after all. Billie giggled trying to remember your ramblings from earlier in the night.

“I think I remember.. You kept saying “You’re my -“ and then you didn’t finish that bit. And then you were singing it in the kitchen,” Billie opened her eyes to look down at you, you seemed to be asleep at this point, but the slight furrow in your brows told her you were thinking about your little song, so she continued, whispering,

“You’re my, my, my, my….”

“Oh!! You’re my, my, my, my…” you trailed off again.

“Darling, you’re my, my, my, my…”

“Lover.”

#Spotify #billie eilish #wlw #billie eilish fluff #fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #taylor swift #lover #billie x reader

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kissyrafe · 21 hours ago

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pogue!fisherman's!daughter!reader meeting rafe for the first time

cw: nothing. also like this is a scrap but enjoy

north carolina's heat certainly killed you.

your hand swatted back and forth to cool you down as you heard a 'ding' echo through the fish shop's humid air. looking up from your phone, you see two tall guys walking in. "man i'm tellin' ya, that shit was— shit was huge," one of them exclaimed, stretching his arms out to demonstrate the sheer size of whatever he was talking about. you stood up properly, straightening your back as you turned your head to greet the customers. "welcome. if you need help with anything, lemme know." your lips turned into a shy smile, looking at both of them. the guy that had talked before smirked and spoke. "thanks sweetheart, 'think we got this." he gave you a small wink before secretly nudging his arm to his friend as they both looked at you.

you gave them a slightly confused but kind look when they breezed past you, strong cologne filling your nostrils as it masked the shop's aquatic smell. you tapped your nails against the glass of the counter, watching while they walked around each aisle. you could still hear their voices, but couldn't quite understand what they were talking about.

your phone was still open to your friend's text as she invited you to hang out after your shift. your fingers began typing a response, your eyes quickly darting up to see where those two guys were only for one of them to be right in front of you. startled, you let out a small gasp and almost let your phone slip from your hands.

he cleared his throat. "sorry, did i uh, did i scare you?" it wasn't the one that was talking to you before, it was his friend. maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the embarrassment, but your cheeks were brushed with light pink as you tried to speak. "no, nothing like that—sorry." you looked down at the counter to see a small pack of lures and a black lighter. you first grabbed the lure, scanning it as the price popped up on the register's screen, $3.50. then, you typed in the lighter's price, knowing it well as you've worked here since you were a little kid, $7.03.

"$7.03," you look up at the guy again. his features are so sharp and charismatic, even when he has a straight face. you could see the small beads of sweat on the tips of his buzzed hair. he reaches for his wallet, and your eyes follow his sinewy arms. pulling out a ten, his arm extends before he stops abruptly. "how 'bout some bait, what's that gon' cost me?" he looks down to the containers of bait next to you.

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a smile. "on the house." you say, sliding the styrofoam container towards him. he seems to have taken the hint as he gives you a smile that shows his teeth. his eyes narrow, piercing through you.

you grab the bill from him, your fingers feeling a small piece of paper underneath too.

you hear the guy grab his items, not even waiting for you to bag them up. "y'know what, keep the change." his smooth voice runs through your ears when you look at him again. "yo top, let's go." his volume raises as he calls out for his friend, still staring right at you before breaking away from his gaze and walking out with his friend.

you were once again confused by this whole interaction. looking down at the bill, you look down at what was underneath it.

it was his number.

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 2 days ago

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"Yeah, I'm just a little nervous about you being behind the wheel, Eddie," Robin said.

"Oh, I'm not going to drive her. I'm just starting this baby up," Eddie grinned. "Harrington's got her, don't ya, big boy?"

Eddie was already so close to him, his lips near his cheek. Steve frowned. God. Was Eddie flirting with him? This didn't seem very fair. Eddie gets accused of murder, gets thrown into all of this, and now Steve has to reject him because he didn't like boys. Although, he appreciated the attention and the way he had slammed him up against the wall. . .It also wasn't hard to notice the way Eddie looked at him when he took his shirt off. Poor guy. Steve turned his head and was about to open his mouth when Robin moved. She tripped, falling onto Steve’s back. In the process, it caused Steve to fall into Eddie, their lips bumping against each other's.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry!" Robin gasped.

"I guess I can cross that off my bucket list," Eddie said with a grin and winked at Steve.

Before anyone could say anything else, the owners of the RV tried to get in. Steve did it without thinking. They needed to switch spots and quickly, too. Steve patted him on his backside to get him out and rushed to replace him. He took off. The entire way to the War Zone, all Steve could think about was kissing Eddie. . .his hand brushing up against his backside just then. . .the hand pressed against the small of his back when they were walking in the Upside Down. . .the way he liked it when Eddie leaned in. He still tried to process it all when they got to the War Zone and even after in the clearing when he was making molotov cocktails with Robin.

"Hey. . .Robin, do you think maybe you can push me into Eddie again later?" Steve asked.

"What? Why?" Robin asked in disbelief.

"I need to test a theory," Steve said, his chest growing warm at the sight of Eddie with Dustin.

"What's the theory?" She asked.

"I like a boy," Steve said as he continued to gaze at Eddie.

"Oh my god!" Robin exclaimed as she nearly dropped the molotov. "You like Eddie!"

Robin slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Steve grinned. He couldn't help it. . .her expression was so comical. He couldn't be mad at her. Judging by the way everyone's head had snapped in their direction, they heard Robin.

"I told you! I knew you would like him!" Dustin shrieked. "Didn't I say that Steve would like him, Lucas?"

"Yeah, man," Lucas said in amusement. "You called it."

Steve smiled and shook his head. Once again, Dustin was missing an important part of what had just happened.

"I just don't know why Robin was so surprised," Dustin said.

"I like you, too, big boy!" Eddie yelled, winking at him again, and Steve blushed.

Robin leaned closer to Steve, smirking as she lowered her voice.

"Theory proven. Steve Harrington likes a boy," Robin said.

"It seems like the worst possible time to realize this," Steve said.

"If not now, then when?" She asked, and then she squealed as she leaned against him. "Neither one of us is straight! This is great! Ooh, I rhymed."

"Settle down, Buckley," Steve said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"You should do something about it," Robin whispered.

"I don't know," Steve said, glancing at Nancy. "There's still something there, too."

"We live on a gate to hell, Steve," Robin said. "I think it's okay to like both of them. Anything is possible."

"I think I'm going inside for a bit," Steve said.

"Okay, well, I'm here if you want to talk some more or freak out about it," Robin said.

Steve smiled at her, grateful to her before heading into the RV. He closed the door and sighed. It was all such a great distraction, but it was only momentarily. The pain was very much there. Steve shrugged out of his new jacket and camouflage shirt. He didn't have any time to change his bandages at the War Zone. He had to figure out how to change the bandages, but how could he possibly get the ones on his back and arms? Steve grabbed the first aid kid and started peeling Nancy's piece of torn shirt off of his stomach. Steve cried out in pain and wept harder at the wounds in his stomach. His flesh had been torn away and devoured. . .He could feel the road rash on his back and arms. It felt as though he had been kissed by fire. He tried to keep it all together, tried not to let anyone know how much pain he was in. . .the mission was too important. Steve collapsed on the floor and fell onto his knees. He tried to focus on what he was feeling emotionally. . .Eddie or Nancy? The door to the RV opened, and he jerked at the sound of their voices. . .Jesus, did they hear what he was thinking?

"Steve!" Eddie and Nancy yelled.

The door closed behind them as they rushed to his side.

"I was just trying to change my bandages," Steve groaned.

They quickly helped sit him up, and Nancy immediately started unraveling the bandages.

"Shit, these need to be cleaned," Eddie cursed.

"Oh, Steve, why didn't you tell us you were in this much pain?" Nancy asked.

"I didn't want to be a distraction," Steve said.

"You had no problem being a distraction when you ripped off your sweater, flashing Nancy and I your tits," Eddie grinned, and Nancy giggled.

"You know what I mean, asshole," Steve laughed. "I just - ,"

"You're not a burden. We know about this. You're important, and not just to the mission," Nancy said softly. "To all of us."

Steve smiled at her. Nancy and Eddie went to work cleaning his wounds.

"I'm just wondering how you expected to get the ones on your back? You would have had to twist yourself like a pretzel," Eddie said. "Mm, pretzels."

"Hey, I've got moves," Steve protested.

"He's a ninja," Nancy teased.

"Sounds like an inside joke," Eddie said.

"The first time he snuck into my room, he landed awkwardly, got up, and proudly declared himself a ninja," Nancy said.

"Sounds adorable," Eddie grinned, flashing his dimples as he looked softly at Steve.

"It really was," Nancy said fondly.

"So, letting me in on this, and letting me feel you up - ," Eddie said.

"You're bandaging my wounds," Steve said.

"Do I or do I not have my hands all over you?" Eddie asked.

"Well, then I guess that means Nancy's feeling me up," Steve said.

"I'm not going to lie, Steve," Nancy said seriously, and Eddie laughed.

"I guess that means we're friends now," Eddie said.

"No," Steve said quickly, and Eddie frowned. "I mean, yes. . .I like you, Eddie."

"I like you, too. What's the problem?" He asked.

"No, I like you," Steve said.

"Okay. . .you said like differently that time. What are you trying to imply here?" Eddie asked.

"I like-like you, Eddie," he said.

"Okay, so you really like me," he said. "So, why can't we be friends?"

"I'm romantically and sexually attracted to you," Steve replied with a loud sigh.

"What! But Nancy - ," Eddie said with wide eyes. "I thought - ,"

"Oh, no, I'm still very much in love with her," Steve said. "So, yeah, all very confusing. . .although, I guess not, really. I definitely have a type. . .nerds with big hair and big eyes that make you fall for them."

Nancy laughed.

"Now that I'm thinking about it, I definitely think you were crushing on Tom Cruise just as much as I was," Nancy said.

"Shit, I think you're right. I've never been straight," Steve said, laughing.

"What? Did you think I turned you queer?" Eddie asked.

"Like magic," Steve said with a goofy grin.

Eddie and Nancy laughed as they finished wrapping up Steve. They helped him up off the floor before helping him back into his shirt and jacket.

"You're good to go, bug boy," Eddie said, his hand caressing Steve’s collar. "I mean, big boy - fuck, I meant, well, you know what I meant."

"I just want you to know that you don't have to do anything about this or feel like you have to. . .I just thought I should be honest. I was just completely honest with myself, and I wanted to do the same with you guys," Steve said. "You both have inspired me to be myself and realize what's important. Eddie, more recently, and Nancy, well, back then, she gave me the bump on the head that I needed to see what it truly means to be a friend. I mean, I know that I'm slow, but I learn. . .according to my mother, I used to crawl backwards, I went so far backward that I ended up falling down the stairs. Eventually, I do move forward. So, I'll be okay."

Eddie smiled sweetly at him, playing with the collar of Steve’s jacket. Nancy placed a hand on Steve’s arm, also smiling at him.

"So, in that dream of yours. . .," Nancy said.

"With his six little chicken nuggets," Eddie said in amusement.

"Were you serious about that?" Nancy asked.

"I meant every word," Steve said to Nancy. "Left out an important part, though. . .the most important part. . .you were there. . .you've always been there."

Eddie wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder, leaning in close to him.

"I know that we've just started getting to know each other. . .," Eddie trailed off.

"There's room in the RV. . .hm, I could use some convincing, though," Steve smirked.

Eddie leaned forward and kissed him. Steve smiled against his lips as he returned the kiss, placing his hand against the small of Eddie's back. Eddie ran his tongue over the bottom of Steve’s lip, and Steve opened his mouth with a gasp, letting Eddie slip his tongue inside. Suddenly, Eddie pulled back.

"That's what you meant by convincing you. . .right?" Eddie asked and Steve laughed.

"Yeah, Eddie, that's what I meant," Steve said.

"I think I'm definitely going to need some convincing," Nancy said, her cheeks red.

"You are?" Eddie asked.

"Well, Steve wanted me in the RV first," Nancy smirked.

"Trying to make this into a competition, Wheeler?" Eddie asked.

"What if I am, Munson?" Nancy asked as she stared directly into his eyes.

Eddie grinned and pulled her flush against him. They each kept a hand on Steve while they held onto each other. Eddie pressed his lips to Nancy's, smirking into the kiss. Steve felt the warmth inside his stomach grow stronger at the sight of them. He should have been jealous, but there was no jealousy here, only longing for the both of them. Their hands clutched each of his shoulders tightly as Nancy deepened the kiss. Nancy and Eddie's hands slid into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. Steve moaned softly as he felt them gently tug at it. Eddie pulled away with a gasp.

"Is that enough to convince you, or do you need more?" Eddie asked.

"I think we've both been convinced," Nancy laughed as she looked at Steve's face. "Haven't we?"

"Yeah, definitely," Steve said.

Nancy touched Steve’s face gently and kissed him. It was sweet and soft until Nancy pressed her lips further against his, eager to taste him again. God, how he missed her lips and the way she gently touched his face. He wanted to keep kissing her, but his head was starting to spin. He broke the kiss.

"What's wrong?" Nancy asked.

"I feel a little dizzy," Steve said. "I think I need to sit down."

Nancy and Eddie guided him to the couch. Steve couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, so Eddie quickly found a can of Spaghetti-os and a bottle of water. It wasn't the best, but it made Steve feel better. Yeah, it wasn't a good idea to forget to eat after losing all that blood, Steve thought as he scooped food into his mouth.

"You feeling better?" Nancy asked after he finished and set the empty can aside.

"Definitely," Steve said.

"I should have gotten you some food. . .I didn't think about the blood loss," Nancy frowned.

"Hey, I didn't think about it either," Steve said. "Don't beat yourself up."

"Honestly, I thought you were getting dizzy because of us, and I felt cocky for a moment," Eddie smirked.

"Hm, well, maybe a little," Steve grinned.

Nancy ran her fingers through Steve’s hair, looking at him fondly.

"I almost lost you," Nancy said.

"Eddie said that you didn't hesitate at all to jump in after me," Steve said. "Said it was. . .an unambiguous sign of true love."

"Well, he was right about that," Nancy said with a smile as she continued to stroke his hair. "I couldn't lose you. I spent a lot of time letting other people get in my head. . .as much as I try to tell myself that I don't care what others think, I do. I spent a lot of time letting those voices convince me that I was going to end up in a nuclear loveless family. I was so afraid of that happening. . .that I let it happen. Our relationship was wonderful, and I loved every minute of it. . .the one thing that got in my way was myself and the fact that those assholes got away with killing Barb. When you got yanked underneath the water, when the bats came after, I just couldn't you go. . .I realized that it was always you, Steve. So, yeah, I love you."

"I love you, too," Steve said.

Nancy leaned forward and kissed him, tucking a hair behind his ear. She broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against Steve’s.

"I am not quite there yet," Eddie said, grinning. "But I feel a great deal of affection for the both of you."

"There's no pressure, Eddie," Steve laughed.

"You know, I kind of like that you both are further along in this relationship than I am. It's almost like you two are the dungeon masters and I'm the player. . .," Eddie frowned. "I think I just turned myself on."

"I wouldn't even know how to be a dungeon master," Steve said.

"I'll show you," Nancy grinned. "It's not that different from leading a basketball team."

"You take that back, Wheeler," Eddie gasped.

"No!" Nancy laughed.

Eddie leaned back and crossed his arms, fake pouting. Steve and Nancy stared at him, watching the sun begin to sink down. . .a reminder for all of them that their mission to take down Vecna would soon begin. Eddie's face turned serious.

"You might be onto something. . .I kind of wish that I had gone to the game. Wish I had been more accommodating to Lucas, let him know that he wasn't turning to the dark side. . .it was a shitty thing to do. I think I was so afraid of forced conformity that I ended up feeling like Lucas had to choose one or the other when he didn't have to. As the leader of Hellfire, I was responsible for giving those kids a safe place for them to share their interests even if they didn't align with mine," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I think we were both afraid of forced conformity," Nancy said as she twirled a lock of Steve’s hair between her fingers.

"Hey, man, Lucas knows you didn't intend to be an asshole about it," Steve said. "He knows how protective you are of the game. As much as I tried to talk about it with him, Lucas just wanted the bullying to stop, and he still wanted to hang on to the game. You just don't know how much harder it is for him."

"Yeah," Eddie winced. "Jeff pointed that out as a possibility when I was complaining about it."

"He sees what kind of person Jason is now, though," Steve said. "And he also knows that he was wrong, too. . .which I think is something that you two really need to talk about."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed.

Steve could feel Nancy's eyes on both of them.

"Boys," she sighed happily.

"Aren't you glad Robin pushed me into Eddie's lips?" Steve asked.

"What?" She laughed.

"You didn't see that earlier? Eddie was getting the RV started up, and Robin tripped, causing my lips to meet with Eddie's," Steve said.

"Is that what made you realize you liked me?" Eddie asked, laughing.

"Yeah, I totally wanted to kiss you again," Steve said. "What made you realize that you liked me?"

"When you ripped off your shirt like a fucking stripper," Eddie said rolling his eyes. "You know you look good, asshole. It was the wrong fucking time to have a sexuality crisis and you gave it to me. Between you and Nancy. . .watching her swing that oar around like a sword. . .yeah, I definitely still liked women. So, thank you, you guys gave me a lot to panic about."

"You're welcome," Nancy and Steve said in amusement.

"The moment I realized I liked both of you, actually isn't that much different," Nancy said in amusement. "I both caught you with romance novels. . .of course, it was a long time ago with Steve and earlier this year with Eddie."

"Really?!" They asked, and they looked at each other. "You?!"

"I don't know why you're so surprised," Steve scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. "You heard about my dream. . .of course, I'm a romantic. I don't know why I'm surprised about you. . .cynical, my ass, of course you're a romantic. . .unambiguous sign of true love."

"I am never going to live that down," Eddie groaned and threw up his hands. "Okay! Jesus H Christ, I love love!"

"I think it's sweet," Nancy smiled. "Now, more than ever, we need to believe in love. Whether it's familial, romantic, or strictly platonic."

"Like me and Robin," Steve said with a goofy grin. "Platonic with a - "

" - capital p!" Nancy and Eddie exclaimed.

"Yes, we know," Nancy said. "It's strictly platonic with me and Robin, too. I definitely love her."

"Oh me, too!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Yeah, she's great," Steve grinned and then frowned. "But there's no one like me and Robin. . .I found her first."

"Of course," Nancy giggled.

Steve leaned back against the couch, smiling at the both of them. Eddie and Nancy were talking over him now, their hands over his knees. They were discussing the things to come, Vecna, and what had already happened. Steve listened to them both as Eddie talked about his guilt over Chrissy's death, his feelings, while Nancy did the same about her own guilt over Barb's death and how she had felt about Barb. Steve placed a hand over Nancy's and Eddie's back. They leaned into his touch, letting him know that they appreciated his silent reassurance. Whatever happened, they were going to get through it together.

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jrooc · 2 days ago

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🥶 Weekly Tag Wednesday 🧟‍♀️

Hi I'm Jess.. I'll be your cruise director today. Since January never ends and SAD is kicking in with gusto let's look back on a different time - specifically last year! Remember that? Ya me either. But I'm in charge here! So...

Name: Definitely not Candace (It's Jess) <insert new girl meme of schmidt>

Age you are mentally: 30

Top 3 fics that came out last year (that you can remember at this point lol) : Jesus why do I ask such hard questions.

Highway to Hedonism by @roryonic w art by @gallapiech

How to Disappear by @deedala

Last Night at the Verona Hotel by @the-rat-wins

Out of Nowhere by @suzy-queued (anything by Deena lol)

Add in any authors who you read all of their things: Special shoutout to anything by Cryme_anocean, @notherenewjersey @sgtmickeyslaughter @sam-loves-seb and @whatthebodygraspsnot (why did I even ask this lol I could keep going forever)

Fave artist/band/singer/group your discovered last year (has to be new to you, not new): Chappell Roan 💅🏻 and Fred Again..

One thing you learnt last year that you're taking into 2025: When things are shit it's easy to lose yourself. Don't let that happen.

Was is a good year or bad year? It was a better year in a lot of ways which caused some things to be bad

Is there anything superstitious you do to try and continue that vibe or absolutely change it? No but maybe I need to start saging things... myself? Manifesting? Send help!

Fave WIP your following into this year: there are so many good ones!

Can't Have a Stakeout by @lazystargazy

Workhouse Rock by @suzy-queued

Electric Blue by @goodkwuestion

Kidnapped at Christmas by @sam-loves-seb

Blackwing Prochecy and the pirate one by @crossmydna

ITQD always by @spoonfulstar

There's more but you get it...

Are you doing any January 'get healthy' things? Drinking less. Eating more vegetables. Holding firm on what I need even if it makes anxious.

More random questions~~ Did you consider yourself an avid reader before you found fanfic? I am and I was.

Do you read books as well as fanfic? Yes or No: fanfic or die

What are you doing to survive this January so far? Reading fics and cuddling my cat in case that wasn't super clear by this point

This was a hot mess 🫠😎. Thanks for playing! If you were mentioned, consider yourself tagggeedddddd. More under the cut ✁ (uh a bunch didn’t work and it made me delete a bunch so if you’re confused but were tagged and now it’s gone that’s cause Tumblr hates me today but you were tagged!)

Tagggiinnnggg @energievie @spookygingerr @michellemisfit

@mybrainismelted @blue-disco-lights

@heymrspatel @crestfallercanyon @guinguin1984 @doshiart @creepkinginc

@ian-galagher @stocious @transmurderbug @transsexual-dandelions @sgtmickeyslaughter

@ms-moonlight-inn @too-schoolforcool @callivich @gallawitchxx @gardenerian

@deathclassic @sandrashaine @sam-loves-seb @samantitheos @rereadanon

@romidoes @fireballazalea

@kiennilove @lazystargazy @echotrees @runninonemptyy @runawaybrainsc

@gallavich-annise h @mmmichyyy @kowhaifairy @sillygoofygoobersstuff @francesrose3

sorry if I missed you!!!

#weekly tag wednesday #Tag you're it

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yyaktayak · 1 day ago

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Chapter 1

Kimaya’s Pov.

I giggled softly as I scrolled through my phone, reading the tweets from my friends. Of course, they were losing their minds over me and Josh posting another picture together. They kept joking that we were more than just "best friends," but that couldn't be further from the truth. It was just us, messing around, doing what we always did. Nothing more, nothing less.

Josh was my best friend. We were always there for each other, never putting labels on what we had. Still, every time someone mentioned anything about us being "more," it made me second-guess things—if only for a second.

I pushed the thoughts aside as I grabbed my blanket and threw it over my legs, curling up on the couch. The room was cozy, the soft hum of the TV in the background, when suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted my peace. I frowned, setting my phone down. Who could it be?

I opened the door, expecting maybe a delivery person or one of the neighbors, but instead, I was greeted by Josh—looking ridiculously good in his grey sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, carrying a DoorDash bag like he was the most casual delivery guy on earth.

"Josh?" I blinked at him. "What are you doing here?"

He gave me that cocky grin I knew all too well, like he owned the place. "Hey, Ra. I got you food. DoorDash delivery, as requested." He held out the bag, barely trying to hide the teasing glint in his eyes.

"I know you didn't diss my delivery guy to bring this shit yo self," I said, crossing my arms my thick accent coming out. "You seriously walked all the way over here just to pretend to be a DoorDash driver?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, stepping inside before I could say anything else. "Well, I thought ya mighta need sum food, and I did feel like seeing ya . so, yeah. you're welcomema."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You're such a liar. You ain order this. you just wanted an excuse ta come hang boy."

He grinned even wider, clearly pleased with himself. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. But now that I'm hea, I'm staying. Food's on the counter. I'm crashing fa the night."

I stared at him, wide-eyed, as he dropped the DoorDash bag on the kitchen counter and kicked off his sneakers like he was settling in for a long visit.

"wait-"

"Oh, I'm not just 'coming over' fa a quick hang," he interrupted, already sinking onto the couch like he lived here. "I'm spending da night mama. We'll watch movies, eat pizza, and I'm cuddling with you Ra. Don't even try to protest. You know the drill and don't try me I'll tackle ya ass down ." He said his thick Louisiana accent piercing through .

I blinked at him, completely dumbfounded but his accent definitely did things to me.. "ya serious right now? And what do you mean 'cuddle'?"

He gave me a look that screamed 'really?' and patted the spot next to him on the couch. "Ra, you Always invite me over, even if you don't say the words. Plus, you're not getting out of this one. You can't resist me."

My heart skipped a beat at the cocky tone in his voice, but I quickly pushed the feeling aside. It was Josh. Nothing new here .

"I definitely can resist you, thank you very much Mr.Fatu," I retorted, walking over to the couch and grabbing the pizza box. "But fine, you're here, you're crashing. Whatever." I said rolling my eyes .

Josh made an exaggerated sigh of relief as he reached for a slice of pizza. "Ra what I told you bout rollin ya eyes at me, but good knew you'd come around. na, about that cuddle part..."

I looked at him slightly admiring him before shaking my head as I sat down next to him. "ya not gon let it go, huh?"

"na," he said with a sly grin. "Cuddle time. I'm cold, Ra. And you're the only one who can warm me up."

I rolled my eyes again, but I could feel the warmth creeping up my neck. "You're ridiculous," I muttered, but the truth was, I wasn't exactly protesting. I'd always been comfortable around Josh, and the idea of us just... being close, as stupid as it sounded, didn't feel weird. Not really.

"Come on, Ra," he said, nudging me with his shoulder. 'We're "best friends"Just let me cuddle you like the old times. I'm not gonna bite."

I couldn't help it. The teasing tone in his voice, the way he said "old times" like it was some sweet inside joke—it made my heart do something funny. Something I wasn't ready to name yet.

I finally gave in with a dramatic sigh. "fine, but you bet not leave me like you did without telling me ."

He grinned like he'd won the lottery. "I told you I was sorry ma it was last minute. But Ima get the blanket, and you're getting the cuddles. Simple as that."

Before I could respond, he grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and threw it over both of us, pulling me close as he made himself comfortable.

I let out an exaggerated groan but didn't pull away. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, settling in like this was the most natural thing in the world. And to be honest, it kind of was.

"Good night, ma," he said, his voice softer now, but the playful edge was still there.

I rolled my eyes, leaning into him just a little bit more than I probably should've. "you- you're so ridiculous boy."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, the warmth of his body settling against mine.

But I couldn't help the thoughts that suddenly swirled in my head. Josh was my best friend, but in this moment, it felt like there was more—something different, something more than I was ready to admit.

Josh's POV-

I grinned to myself, trying to suppress the satisfaction of getting exactly what I wanted. Ra always tried to act like I was the annoying one, the one who couldn't take a hint, but deep down, I knew she loved it when I crashed at her place. It was the way we'd always been, after all.

She fit against me perfectly, the soft weight of her head resting on my shoulder as she tried to act like she wasn't enjoying the fact that I'd weaseled my way into her space yet again.

"I know ya not mad Kimaya." I teased, brushing my fingers through her hair lightly. "You love this."

She shot me a look, but I could tell she was already melting into the comfort of it. "boy what I told you bout my real name.. you lucky Ian kicked you out yet."

"Would you really do that to your best friend?" I said, my voice low, but with that same playful edge.

I felt her sigh against me, and I knew that no matter how much she'd pretend otherwise, she didn't want me to leave. She never did.

"I hate you," she mumbled, but the hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

"mhm, I love you too ma," I said, grinning down at her. "But you're not going to want me to go tomorrow."

She didn't answer, and we just sat there, wrapped up in the blanket, the silence hanging between us. It was comfortable. Too comfortable. And I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I was starting to blur the line between being her best friend and... maybe something more.

But for now, I was content. I had all the time in the world to figure it out.

#wwe #yeet #smut #razor #jey uso #jonathan fatu #trinity fatu #roman reigns #cody rhodes #fanfic

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gliphyartfan · 2 days ago

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Lately I've been feeling bad and feel like I'm going to hurt myself again. I want to know how you think yan Chain would react to a reader self-harming, I just need a little comfort :b

Hey there sweetpea , thank you for trusting me with your feelings. I’ll do my best to bring you a smile!

So, how I think the Chain would react?

Hmm

Well:

TIME wouldn’t let anything slip past his notice. The moment he saw evidence of self-harm, his almost deceptively calm tone would freeze them in place. ‘What have you done to yourself?’

Time would try to keep things calm around Reader.

He wouldn’t demand answers right away, they’d definitely be startled at being caught, he’d let them. come to him.

He’d tell them that when they were doing stoped then and there, like He says it softly, but his tone leaves no room for argument.

Whether it’s his hand resting gently on Reader’s shoulder or sitting quietly in the same room, he’d make sure they know they’re not alone.

he’d kneel in front of Reader, take their hands gently, and assure them that he’s here to stay, no matter what.

He’d quietly remind them that pain is temporary and that leaning on him, on them, is okay.

For WIND?

He’d immediately want to take charge, pulling Reader into a tight hug and whispering assurances and how Reader should have to feel so miserable as to want to do that.

He’d go out of his way to cheer them up, his antics sometimes over tha top but always sincere and concerned. Whether it’s telling stories, cracking jokes, or planning little adventures away from the group when they want space, he’d do whatever it takes to see Reader happy again. Cause beneath his playful actions, he’s deeply worried about them.

His yandere tendencies might slip through in how much he needs to see Reader happy. If they seem down, he won’t rest until he’s made them smile again, even if it means going overboard.

—

WARRIORS would mask his worry with charm, trying to keep things, ya know, happy and casual and upbeat to take Reader’s mind off their pain. But his concern would show in the way he watches them, his sharp eyes never missing a thing.

He’d focus on removing anything harmful from their reach while reassuring them that he wasn’t upset, just…worried (and hurt, and scared of the possibilities if he hadn’t caught them)

He’d start to insist on walking them everyone when the others arent around, pulling them close if he senses any danger, even if it’s just his overactive imagination.

He’d be a bit more touchy…holding their hand more, patting their shoulders and head, it’s all casual but it remains him they’re still ok.

——

FOUR would likely notice the signs before anyone else, his observant nature catching even the smallest details. He’d approach Reader cautiously, his voice soft as he asked if tehy were okay.

He’d of course, would be devastated but wouldn’t show it outwardly. Instead, he’d focus on what he could do to help, his hands steady as he tended to their wounds if they had any.

His colors would react differently. All equally worried, all equally wanting to comfort Reader. Maybe they accidentally overwhelm them and after that little mistake they take turns spending time with Reader.

Red wouod make flower chains with Reader.

Green would take them on walks.

Vio and surprisingly Blue, would have quiet moments. The two would just hang around while Reader did their own thing. (Kinda like how cats hang around each other without bothering one another? Like that!)

They’d definitely channel theur emotions into creating something for Reader, maybe a charm, a piece of jewelry? something tangible to remind Readee of their worth. His actions would speak louder than words.

Four when whole would keep close, offering quiet but unwavering support. If Reader needed a distraction, he’d work on a small project beside them, his presence a quiet reminder that they’renot alone.

——-

TWILIGHT would be devastated but wouldn’t show it outwardly. He’d, after making sure they won’t bolt in fear, immediately scoop Reader up in his arms, holding them tightly as if that alone could shield them from harm.

He’d be both heartbroken and angry, at himself for not protecting them better and at the world for making them feel this way.

Reader would feel like Twi’s entire world revolves around keeping them safe, even if it means following them everywhere (on two legs or four) or sleeping by their door at night. (Though if them want him in the room so they can snuggle, he definitely wouldn’t decline)

———

WILD wouldn’t say anything at first, his eyes taking in every detail. He’d carefully tend to their wounds with a mix of gentleness and…I’m gonna say delicate-ness? It’s just very careful. his hands steady even as his emotions were all over the place beneath the surface. his expression unreadable as he took the time to process what was happening. Then he’d gently pull Reader into a very gentle hug, his arms trembling slightly.

He’s become even more protective, Reader would catch him watching them constantly, his eyes always scanning for any signs of distress.

He’d channel his guilt into action, He’ll “accidentally” leave little gifts for them, freshly cooked meals, rare ingredients, trinkets he scavenged. and staying by Reader’s side as much as he could.

———-

LEGEND might not know the right words to say at first, he’s probably really caught off guard at what he catches sight of. But when Reader is looking at him in fear and trying to hide the evidence of what they’ve done, his actions would speak volumes. He’d take charge, patching up any wounds with gentle hands.

(He’d pretend his hands weren’t shaking, taht they weren’t betraying how deeply affected he truly was.)

He’d keep them company, even if he isn’t sitting right next to Reader, he’d be within their view. He’d take their hand and guide them away if he noticed them stressing out. He’d tell them stories of his adventures, small things that would bring a fragile smile on Reader’s face. And even if it isn’t bring a smile, it’d give them something to focus on. Something to ground them as them calm down.

And when Reader is calm and relaxed, he’d sit close and quietly admit how much he cares, how much Reader’s mere presence is worth to him and his life.

————

SKY would react with a mix of sadness and internal fury, fury at himself for not noticing sooner. He’d gently take their hands in his, brushing over any scars or fresh wounds, his voice trembling as he tells Reader it’s going to be alright.

He’s…not familiar with someone who has gone through this. If there was anyone like that in Skyloft, well…he never caught wind of it. So he’s very very terrified by this.

He’d be sleeping next to Reader that night…tho I doubt he��s sleep, probably watching how their chest rises and falls, scared that the rhythm would suddenly stop if he looked away.

Sky would be endlessly patient once he gathers himself, his warm, gentleness would be a constant source of comfort. He’d sit beside Reader, holding their hand if they let him, and quietly let them know it’s okay to feel whatever they are feeling.

He’d shower them with small, tender gestures, braiding their hair if it’s long, bringing them flowers, or playing his harp softly to them.

Sky might slip up by being overly protective, like insisting they stay close to him at all times. But he’d easily back off (for a little while at least) when Reader brings it up. Just wanting them comfortable and happy.

————-

HYRULE would be devastated.

He’d immediately try to take care of them, healing magic at the ready to heal any wounds. Gentle but practically pleading in a trembling voice if there are any other injuries he should know about.

He’d apologize frequently if Reader shows any signs of pain. He’d hold their hands afterwards, thumbs on their wrists, most likely focusing on the warmth and pulse beneath.

He tries not to hover, but it’s hard not to when his every instinct tells him to protect them.

If Reader ever tries brushes off his concerns to ask him not to worry, he’d..well not accept that.

“Don’t…don’t…lie to me. Please…even if you want me away from you for the moment, I’d rather you be honest…I just want to help.”

Hyrule would shower them with affection, his actions almost frantic as he tried to show them how much they mean to him. But he’s also holding back, scare he’ll push them away when they are already fragile in a way his magic can’t heal.

He wants them better, but he knows how terrible the fight against one’s mind can be. All he can do is be there by Reader’s side.

—————

Reader might not even notice at first, but slowly, anything that could be used to hurt themselves would disappear or get replaced with safer alternatives.

Legend quietly pockets sharp objects or anything suspicious without mentioning it. Four might ‘ upgrade’ certain tools so that they’re less dangerous (and not tell them why).

They are gonna be very focused on limiting access to anything harmless they’re trying not to make Reader feel like their autonomy’s being stripped.

They know nights are hard, so Reader would often find one or two of them staying up a bit later, coincidentally near wherever they’re sleeping.

Twilight might claim he’s just reading by the fire, while Warriors hovers at the edge of camp, but both keep an ear out for any sign of distress.

If Reader wakes up from a nightmare or dark thoughts, they’re immediately there, offering water, a blanket, or just a quiet ear.

They’ll all be aware that sometimes Reader’s thoughts get dark. So they plan little distractions, Wind invites you for a short stroll, Hyrule shares a story from his travels, or Wild asks for help with cooking or someone to tag along as he wanders around (if they’re up for it).

If Reader ever express guilt for worrying them, they instantly (almost too quickly) jump in with reassurance. Because guilt is a slippery slope that keeping spiraling down with great difficulty getting out of it.

They actively hold back on their more intense behaviors. Time wants to command Reader to stay put, but he softens his tone. Warriors wants to lecture them into next week, but he bites his tongue. Twilight’s instincts scream to keep them locked away safe, but he chooses to give them space.

Each hero attempts to give Reader breathing room, but they also catch themselves hovering, exchanging quick looks when Reader moves out of sight

They want Reader to feel cherished, protected, and above all, happy and alive. So they’ll do everything they can to accommodate and accomplish that.

#oops that was a long one #yandere linked universe #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #lu wind #lu time #lu warriors #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu sky #lu four #lu wild #linked universe x y/n #yandere linked universe x reader

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hmhas-00 · 1 day ago

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Ch. 13

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hiii! Remember I will be posting a new chapter every Thursday. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know! Don’t forget to like and repost! <3

Remy’s POV

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, trying on the costume that I ordered. I was going to be sexy Scream. Billie was going to her party dressed as Todd from Bojack Horseman and insisted that I dress up as Princess Carolyn, but honestly I just wanted to go for something more… I don’t know, sexy?

I take a picture and send it to her, hoping for approval.

Immediately I get heart eye and fire emojis, followed by a FaceTime call.

I answered, pointing the camera at the mirror and posing in different ways. “What do we think?”

“Hot. But you’d look hotter as Princess Carolyn.” Billie teased.

I rolled my eyes, reverting to front camera again. “Too bad, Todd.” I stuck my middle finger up at her, then set my phone up on my dresser pointing at me from the waist up. “What time are you getting here tonight?” I asked, unzipping my costume.

“Around 10, probably.”

Turning around to face the other wall, I dropped my bodysuit around my ankles. “You still coming over?” I had to repeat myself, figuring she didn’t hear me. “Billie. You still wanna come over later?” I turned around, clipping my bra back on.

“Sorry, yeah. Duh.” She finally answered. “And those cinnamon rolls better be ready when I get there.” She emphasized.

“They will be. I just have to make the icing.” I pulled on some sweats and grabbed the phone, walking over to my kitchen.

“You mind if I bring someone to your party?” I asked, setting the phone down on the counter as I reached for a bowl and ingredients.

“Not at all. Do I know them?” She asked.

Suddenly my phone started buzzing. “Hold up, I gotta get this call. It’s work.”

“Call me back!” Billie said, before I hung up and answered the next call.

“Hey, Rachel, what’s up?” I held the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I mixed the ingredients together.

“Hey, Remy, is this a good time?” She sounded a bit sporadic.

“Uhh, yeah, what’s going on?” I hesitated.

“Sooo… Remember that interview we did for the digital article we were brainstorming for? The one for the app?”

“The one we did with RAYE?” I put the whisk down and adjusted my phone.

“Yes! That one!”

“What about it?”

“So, Joe wants it up by tomorrow. Something about needing to beat People magazine? An insider told him they’re publishing a similar piece with her.”

“Well, yeah, she’s definitely getting more traction.” I said, already knowing what comes next.

“I know you’re gonna hate me, but I really need you to go to the office, get on my computer, and finish the article out. Oh- And set it to be published by tomorrow in the morning!” Her high pitched voice was fast and panicked.

“Rachel, I had plans tonight and-“

“I’d do it myself but I’m all the way in San Diego at this conference thing. Its mostly done, and saved to my drafts. It’s really urgent.” She pleaded, knowing Joe would be extremely pissed if she didn’t follow through.

“Sure, I’ll be on my way in a little bit.”

“Ugh! You’re the best! I owe you one! Don’t forget to credit yourself on the article too!” She squealed.

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll see you later, don’t worry.”

“Love ya, girly! Thanks again!” She hung up.

I groaned, finishing up the icing and shoving the bowl in the fridge. In my room, I threw on a yellow baby tee, some wide legged jeans, and put my hair in a red claw clip. I stopped by the round mirror next to my apartment door to check on my face, fixing the minor details, and walked out with my beige crossbody bag.

At the office when I accessed Rachel’s computer, I quickly realized I had a lot of work to do. I sat for hours editing, deleting, then retyping her work. My eyes were shutting on me as I concluded the article, exhausting my brain to come up with anything impressive.

My phone began to ring, making me jump. I answered the call, my heart racing from the sudden scare.

“Hey, I just landed!” Billie sang.

“Fuck. Hey, I’m sorry, I got so busy and I’m stuck at the office right now-“

“Remy!” She moaned. I could hear her disappointment through the phone.

“No, don’t worry, I’m wrapping it up! Just head over to my place and wait for me in there. You still have my spare key, right?”

“Yeah.” She said, monotoned.

“I’ll be there so soon, just put those cinnamon rolls in the oven and by the time they’re ready, I’ll be there with you.”

“Okay, Rem.” She said goodbye.

I cracked my knuckles and rolled my shoulders back, sitting up straight. I used every single one of my last brain cells to come up with a brilliant conclusion to the article. I let the interview speak for itself and included some quotes from the amazing Raye, but I found myself in the biggest case of writers block I’ve ever had. All I could think about was how much I hated Rachel in this moment for making me do this myself, knowing Joe would give her all the credit.

Eventually, after an hour and a half, I finished what could possibly be the worst article I’ve ever written. It wasn’t bad, just rushed, and I usually don’t work well under pressure. Before posting the article, I stared at the space underneath, where credit is usually given to the writer and editor. I hesitated to delete Rachel’s name, and typed in my own. I stared at it some more, deleting my name and retyping Rachel’s full name, then my name under editor. I sighed, setting the article to be posted tomorrow morning at 8am.

I shut the laptop and grabbed all my things, rushing out the door.

When I arrived at my apartment building, I pressed the elevator button a million times, ending up at my door and unlocking it as fast as I could.

I opened my door, psyched to see my best friend, only to see her passed out on my couch in her comfy clothes. I quietly closed the door, hanging my things on the tiny rack. In the kitchen, was a half empty baking tray with cinnamon rolls. The icing was poured over, and the rolls were starting to get cold. I put them away, covering the top with foil, and cleaned up a little.

I tip toed over to my couch, wondering how she was able to fall asleep on a two seater comfortably. She was curled up in a little ball, with my pastel crocheted blanket covering half of her face. I smiled down at her, feeling awful I made her wait so long alone. I wanted to welcome her home with open arms, and fresh, warm cinnamon rolls.

I turned off the tv, and turned down the lights, leaving only my soft, warm, reading lamp on. I patted her lightly. “Billie… I’m home.” I brushed the hair that fell over her eyes behind her ear, and leaned down to hug her tired body. I buried my face in her neck and took that sweet, familiar scent in, bringing a smile to my face. I wish I could carry her to my bed, but let’s be honest, I don’t have any upper body strength. “You’re so warm, and you smell like cinnamon rolls.” I whispered.

She let out a slight moan and stretched out her curled up feet. Her lashes fluttered open, turning her neck a little as I sat up. “Hi!” I smiled ear to ear.

“Remyyyyy!” She stretched her arms out, wrapping them around my neck.

“Hiii! It’s me!”

“I missed you.” she pulled me into her chest. I crawled on top of her and laid there, propping my head up to see her.

“I know, I’m sorry I made you wait. It was an emergency.”

“You know what else is an emergency?” she said, lifting a brow, jokingly. “Me kicking your ass for not spending any time with me while I’m here.”

“Stop!” I laughed, deep down feeling awful. “No more. I’m all yours for the rest of the weekend.”

She placed both her hands on my face, looking at me for a moment, before squishing my cheeks together. “You better be.”

I placed my hands on top of hers, taking in the moment. I had missed her so much. Nothing was going to keep me from spending time with her. She deserved my undivided attention for making the time to see me. I believe she felt the same, her eyes scanning me as I smiled up at her.

“Okay. I need to see this costume in person.” She broke the silence.

I laughed, “Okay, let’s go.” I stood up, pulling her into my room.

I pulled out the costume and began to undress. Billie sat on my bed, her legs criss crossed. “So, who are you bringing tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m probably not gonna bring anyone anymore.”

“Aw, why? They cancelled?” She leaned back on her hands.

“No, it’s not that. I just wanna hang out with you there.” I pulled up my nylon tights.

“Nah, bring your friend, Rem. We can all hang out!” She shrugged.

“Really?” I smiled, squeezing into the tight bodysuit.

“Is it Rachel?” She asked, signaling me over to her so she could zip me up.

“No. It’s this girl.”

“At least it’s not some guy.” She laughed, sliding the zipper up, adjusting my straps.

“Well, no it’s not a guy, but it’s this girl I’ve sorta been talking to.” I admitted, nervously.

I’d never really been in a serious relationship with a woman, at least not in the way I had with a man. I don’t think I’d ever told Billie I tried with girls, despite them being some of my favorite interactions. They were too short lived to bring up. I knew how hesitant she was about my relationships, and didn’t usually bring them around her until it was serious. Especially because I had been used to get near Billie before. Especially by girls.

“Like, as friends?” She turned me around, keeping her hands on my shoulders.

“No…” I pursed my lips.

“Wow! I didn’t know you-“ She blinked rapidly, looking shocked. “That’s awesome, Rem.” She let go, realizing she was still holding onto my shoulder straps.

“Yeah, it’s kinda a new thing, I guess…”

“No, I’m just… Why didn’t you ever tell me? I mean you know I’m-“ She scooted to the edge of the bed, her legs hanging off the side. “I’m sorry, this is just the first I’m hearing of this Remy.” She giggled, her eyes wide.

“Jeez, is it that surprising?” I smacked her tummy.

“Yes!” She laughed. “What’s her name? Who is she?” She pulled me on the bed, desperately trying to gather as much information as she could. “Show me her instagram!”

“Her name’s Stevie. She works at Variety with me. She’s an intern.” I pulled up her instagram showing her my favorite pictures.

“Ouu, cute.” She took the phone from my handed scrolling through her whole profile. “How long has this been a thing? Is it like a serious thing?”

“No, no. We’re just talking. She… I don’t even think she knows I like her like that.” I shrugged, laughing a bit.

“Oh, well she definitely likes you. You look her type.” She handed me back my phone.

“Her type?” I looked at her.

“Yeah, pretty girls with pretty eyes, long hair, and tattoos.” She looked me up and down, pointing at my arm tattoos.

I laughed, getting up and walking over to my body mirror. “I hope so.”

She stayed quiet, watching me look in the mirror.

“So? What do you think?” I looked over my shoulder at her.

“You look stunning. Insane.” Billie smiled at me. I could see her through the mirror, her expression turning blank once I turned.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna be Princess Carolyn with me?”

“Kinda?” I turned to her, shrugging.

“You’re such a loserrr!”

“But I’m a sexy loser.” I held my finger up in the air, making her laugh. I took a couple pictures of myself in the mirror.

“Here.” She offered to take them for me, pulling out her phone. I posed, the flash reflecting off the mirror behind me. She leaned back, getting my best angles, as always.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked girls?” She asked, her voice soft and quiet.

She sounded a bit hurt, like I hid something from her. I couldn’t help but feel like I kept a part of myself from her.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I walked over to her, turning around so she could unzip me.

“How long?”

“Mmm… a while. You remember Cassie?”

She nodded.

“We did some things… I think that’s when I realized.”

“You never told me about that!” She crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” I shrugged, stepping out of my costume, pulling off my tights. “It’s not like I had anything serious with any of them. I’ve only ever told you about my serious relationships.”

“Well yeah, but-“ She stopped herself, looking disappointed. I put a giant t-shirt on over my bra and underwear, and hung up my costume for tomorrow. “You tell me everything. I told you…”

“I know.” I climbed on my bed, getting under the sheets. “I thought you kinda knew, I guess.”

“Well…” She crawled over and made herself comfortable next to me. “Now that I know… You better not hit on me.” She joked.

I laughed, grabbing my pillow and hitting her in the face with it. “You wish.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ow! My eye!” She held her face, wincing her eyes.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” I grabbed her face, moving her hand so I could see. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Gotcha bitch!” She licked the side of my face and rolled away, almost falling off the bed. She laughed that crazy, loud laugh I loved so much.

“Oh- Fuck you dude come here!” I kicked my feet into her back, pushing her off the edge as she died of laughter.

I got back in my spot, fluffing my pillow and getting comfortable again. She stood up, pushing her hair out of her face and plopping back on the bed with me. “My stomach hurts from laughing so much.” She put a hand on her tummy, breathing deeply to catch her breath.

My full-size bed was just big enough for the both of us, as long as I kicked off a few of my many pillows. I turned on our show, letting it run in the background as we talked a bit more before falling asleep.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” I smile, still paying attention to the tv.

“Me too.” She said, pausing to laugh at something one of the characters on tv said. “So are you bringing Stevie?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Do you think she’ll like my costume?”

“She’s going to die when she sees you.” Her voice sounded genuine.

“Do you think I should ask her out tomorrow?” I looked over at her, putting a hand on my mouth.

She looked at me, not knowing what to say. She bit her bottom lip, shrugging with her eyebrows instead of her arms, since they were warmly tucked under my blankets. “I mean, maybe just wait and see what she says. You don’t wanna push things, you know?” She advised me.

I nodded, looking back at the tv.

“That’s just what I’d do, you know?” Her eyes stayed on me. “But, do whatever feels right.” She added.

“Right.” Nod, snuggling closer to her, laying my head on her shoulder. She yawned, letting me know it was getting late.

A silent while later, I lift my head to see a passed out Billie. After turning my tv and lamp off, I lay my head on my pillow, facing her. She peacefully slept with her mouth slightly open and a furrow on her brows so soft, you could only tell if you looked close enough. I smooth it out with my thumb gently, watching her lick her lips and grunt. Her body turned towards me, our chests parallel to each other. She sloppily threw her arm over me, her fingertips resting on my lower back, which my oversized t-shirt had left exposed. I pulled the bottom hem, attempting to cover up, even though it didn’t matter anyway.

The last thing I saw before shutting my eyes and drifting off, was Billie’s face. She always made soft angry or worried faces in her sleep. I had so many pictures on my camera roll of her funny faces during naps. I smiled thinking about the party tomorrow, and how I get Billie for the rest of the weekend.

I took a mental screenshot of my view and dozed off.

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