#i see this take and yeah he went over board but his intention was to aprehend him Miguel had ample moments to kill him but really just | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whocaresstillthelouvre · 17 days ago

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Long Distance

A followup to Suburban Sparks Pairing: Javier Peña x Steve's Little Sister Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: He knows he shouldn't fall for you, he knows he shouldn't pick up the phone, but you're all he can think about. Warnings: Javi's POV, angst, guilt, yearning, pining, heartbreak, impressionist paintings, using a Clairo lyric as a play monologue, jealousy, smut, phone sex, secret bathroom sex, dirty photos. Takes place after S3. Words: 8,320

A/N: Written for @almostfoxglove's Angst Challenge, who made the GORGEOUS mood board for inspo. It truly fit the vibes of exactly what I was thinking would be the next step for Steve's Little Sister and Javier. My thanks to @devineconjuring, @mothandpidgeon, and @schnarfer for filling up my draft with suggestions, reactions, and edits and always letting me yap and ... them. Masterlist

—-

His heart thuds against his chest with every descending step. He hears the clatter of plates and silverware mixed with soft conversation– hears your voice. You’re awake. His eyes immediately catch yours when he walks into the kitchen. You sit at the breakfast table in an oversized sweatshirt that hangs off a shoulder, the same shoulder he kissed before he snuck out of bed and back to his room across the hall.

You’re so beautiful, he almost falls as he takes a seat.

“Damn, Peña, still drunk?” Steve asks as he flips the last pancake.

“Just tired,” he responds. “Morning,” he casually nods towards you, trying not to let his gaze stay on you for too long.

You nod a casual “hey” as you reach for the orange juice, your fingers wrapping around the glass. He loses his breath as he remembers how those same delicate fingers felt wrapped around him.

“Coffee, Javi?” Connie asks, pulling him from his reverie.

He nods, mumbling a response as you smirk. This is going to be an interesting breakfast.

“Good breakfast, thank you,” you say as you rise. “I’m going to get a shower before I go back home. Landlord still hasn’t fixed the hot water heater.”

“Help yourself,” Steve nods. “And Jesus Christ, find a better place.”

Javier takes a sip of coffee until the thought of you under the warm running water, naked and wet, flashes through his mind. He coughs as he chokes on the hot liquid.

"You okay there, partner?" Steve asks, eyebrow raised.

Javi nods, clearing his throat. "Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe."

As your footsteps fade upstairs, Javi focuses intently on his breakfast, avoiding Steve's gaze. He can feel Connie's eyes on him, a hint of suspicion in her expression.

He eats his breakfast, listening closely to the rumble of the water heater as Steve and Connie discuss their plans for the day. The water heater turns off, snapping Javi back to the thought of you just upstairs.

"I should get ready too," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he picks up his plate and coffee cup, dropping them off by the sink. "Thanks for breakfast."

“‘Course, you’re our guest,” Steve says.

As he climbs the stairs, his heart races. The guilt over Steve sitting just downstairs getting drowned out by the anticipation of seeing you again.

He passes the bathroom door and then retraces his steps, standing in front of the white wooden blockade. You’re right behind the door. He knocks softly.

The door cracks open, a cloud of steam escaping as you peek out. Your face glistens with moisture, drops of water clinging to your skin. You take his breath away.

Your eyebrow quirks up before you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. He slips inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You’re wrapped in a towel–one measly towel. A drop of water trails down your collarbone to between your breasts, and his mouth waters, thinking of how good it’d taste.

"Javier," you whisper.

He steps closer. "I know, I know. We shouldn't."

But, as the words leave his mouth, you’re already reaching for him. His mouth crashes against yours, desperate to taste you again. You instantly mold into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he backs you against the cool tile wall.

The towel slips, pooling at your feet. He breaks the kiss, his eyes reverently roaming your bare skin. “Fuck,” he breathes.

You grab the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down. “We don’t have much time.”

He nods, helping you pull down his boxer briefs, his cock already hard for you, weeping to feel your tight pussy around it.

He lifts you onto the countertop, spreading your legs wide and groaning when he feels how wet you are for him. Your eyes stare into his as he sheaths himself in you, both of you gasping at how good it feels. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as he begins to move. His hands grip the counter as he quietly fucks into you, the faint sound of his skin against yours and your soft moans echoing off the tile.

His tongue licks a path down your neck, tasting the condensation on your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” is softly repeated against your sensitive skin. The way you softly moan back makes his legs weak. You sound so good, you taste so good, you feel so good.

Your hips meet his as his thrusts become more urgent as he listens for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He wishes he could savor you, hear you scream his name, fuck into you for hours, but he can’t. He has to be quick. His hand travels down your smooth skin, and his finger begins circling your clit as his other hand grips the plush of your breast, kneading it in his hand. Your head falls back, your bottom lip captured between your teeth to stop yourself from making any more noise.

It’s forbidden and wrong. He knows this, but the way your body trembles underneath his touch, your hands exploring the broadness of his back, your tight pussy beginning to clench around his cock–he can’t say no to you. He circles your clit faster and harder, his fingers working in quick, tight circles as he fucks into you faster. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fight to stay quiet.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers. “I need to feel you cum.”

Your body tenses, a strangled moan escaping your lips before he presses his mouth against yours, swallowing your cries as he chases his own release. You pulse around him, and it’s too much. He buries himself inside you, his body shuddering as he cums, spilling inside of you. He stays buried in your heat, even though he knows he needs to leave. He just can’t. He rests his forehead against yours, listening to your soft gasps, trying to savor the moment for as long as he can.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice lilts in awe.

He nods, trying hard to swallow the guilt. “I know.”

He pulls out slowly, both of you wincing at the loss of each other.

You hop off the counter, grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around yourself again. Javi tucks himself back into his pants and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

"You should go," you say softly, not meeting his eyes. “You know… just in case.”

He nods, his hand already reaching for the doorknob. "Hey," he says, waiting for you to look at him. When you do, he sees the conflict in your eyes, knowing it mirrors his own, but he ignores it. “What’s your number?”

—-

The phone line hums, building a bridge between Laredo and Washington, D.C. He waits all day to hear the sound of your laughter spill through the receiver–sweet and warm, like honey. Most of the time, silence settles between the two of you, content to just stay on the line with each other 1,800 miles away.

He’d always be the one to call. Phone bill be damned, he made good money.

On some nights, after too many whiskeys or beers, he’d let some of the burden of Colombia off his shoulders. He’d tell you about the girls, the bodies, the nightmares. You’d meet every revelation with understanding and acceptance, letting him talk as little or as much as he wanted.

It’s simple and comfortable, something he never felt like he deserved. But he can never have simple and comfortable–there’s always a complication. You are Steve’s little sister, after all.

He hates nights like this when the guilt creeps in and gnaws at him. The world is hushed, his thoughts loud. He tosses and turns, sheets tangling around his legs as he wrestles with his heart. He’s falling for you–Steve’s little sister. The same Steve who had his back in Colombia, who became more than just a partner.

He stares at the ceiling, your voice always echoing in his head.

It’s been three months since he met you at that ordinary suburban party. He replays everything in his head to calm himself–your smile, the sweet lilt of your voice, your wide eyes as you stared at him. The sound of your muffled moans escaping from behind his shirt, the warmth of your body pressed against his as you drifted to sleep.

Now, the memory of your soft skin under his fingertips haunts him, an almost bittersweet reminder of what he can never have. It could never work. Steve’s so protective of you that Javi can’t even imagine how he’d react if he knew someone like him was falling for his baby sister. He can’t do that to you… or Steve.

You’re in your twenties, still full of life and promise. While he’s forty, scarred from the long life he’s already lived. He pictures you growing resentful, feeling held back by his world-weariness, longing for someone more carefree and unburdened. He’s not the one for you, though you’re the one for him.

He turns, shuffling his cold sheets up around his shoulder as he stares out the window. One night spent together in his friend’s backyard and guest bedroom. One morning spent in a white-tiled bathroom. Countless nights on the phone.

He thinks about you curled up on the couch during your late-night calls, wrapped in an oversized sweater, your voice soft and sleepy. He dreams of one day being on that couch with you. In a perfect life that he’ll never have.

—-

Javier Peña never reads the news. He doesn’t pay attention to the news. He doesn’t care about the news. He doesn’t want to hear about the news—that is, until you entered his life.

“Any news?” he asks, hearing the rustle of your newspaper crackling through the phone.

“Hmm, lemme see.”

He can imagine you scanning the headlines, your finger running down the text, brows furrowed in concentration. You love the news, love reading and learning, love being informed. Now, Javier Peña reads the news.

"Ohh! The Smithsonian's got a new exhibit opening next week. An Impressionist Sensibility. It says the paintings in the collection are linked through a shared sensibility about American cultural aspirations at the turn of the century."

"Yeah?"

“Yeah, it looks really cool, Jav.”

He loves it when you call him Jav. It’s so casual, so comfortable. Nobody ever calls him Jav besides you. He listens intently as you read, letting the sound of your voice wash over him.

"Sounds pretty interesting. Sounds like something you have to see in person."

You hum in agreement, a wistful note in your voice. "It does. Maybe someday we could…"

The sentence hangs unfinished, both of you acutely aware of the complications that keep you apart. He clears his throat, pushing away the surge of longing that threatens to overwhelm him. Move on, agent.

"My turn," he says, unfolding his paper. "Let's see what thrilling news Laredo's got today."

—

“Tell me I did good, Jav. Tell me to stop obsessing over it. Tell me they didn’t notice I paused a little too long between lines.”

He chuckles. “You did amazing. I’m sure of it, cariño.”

He doesn’t know how you can be so brave, going up onstage in front of auditoriums full of people. All eyes on you. He could never do what you do.

“Really?”

“I’d surely cast you if I could.”

“Mm, I’m sure you would,” you respond. He can hear the smile in your voice.

You’ve been so nervous over the audition for the play. He remembers how you'd practiced your lines with him, how he stayed up late listening to you recite the main monologue over and over just so he could hear your voice. He could hear the emotions. You’re so talented, there’s no way you’re not going to get the part.

“You’re going to get it, cariño.”

"You really think so?" you ask, a hint of hope in your voice.

"I do. When will you find out?"

"Rehearsals start next month, so hopefully soon," you answer.

"You've got me to keep you distracted."

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…”

—-

He’s lying in bed awake again. He’s getting to a point of no turning back with you. He closes his eyes, and all he can see is you.

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…” repeats through his head.

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand. It would be so easy to call, to hear your voice one more time. But he can't. He won't.

Instead, he pushes himself out of bed, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor of his apartment to the sparse but functional kitchen. He pours a glass of whiskey, hoping it’ll help drown out his thoughts.

This feeling is so foreign to him. He hasn’t felt this way about anybody since Lorraine–and even then, he fucked that up. He shouldn't have let it go this far. Shouldn't have knocked on the door of that guest room, shouldn't have kissed you like a drowning man praying for air. But he did. And now he can't forget.

You’re too young, too bright, and too adventurous. You’re so full of potential. What the hell are you doing talking to him every single night? He has to step away and let you go. But he won’t. Because underneath all of those accomplishments and pursuits, he’s still a coward.

—-

You softly moan into the phone, and he can hear the swishing of the sheets as you get comfortable on your bed. He can almost see you, feel you, remember how sweet you tasted. He thuds his head against his pillow, an ache of loneliness from his heart traveling down to his cock.

“You can’t do that, cariño,” he lowly growls.

“Huh?”

“Moan like that,” he responds. Now, he’s the one adjusting. “I–it’s been a while.”

You chuckle, a low, tempting sound. He’s in trouble. It’s been a month of talking to you almost every night, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t constantly fighting the urge to touch himself while listening to your voice. But he’s resisted, not wanting to cross that line and make things even more complicated than they already are.

“Sorry, my bed feels really good. Quite lonely, though,” you pout, your voice dripping in saccharine sarcasm.

Fuck. He’s so needy for you, he’s already growing hard.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, feeling a little ridiculous at the question, hoping you’re just as turned on as him.

“Don’t laugh. Promise you won’t laugh.”

“What? Why would I laugh?” he smiles, shaking his head.

“Because Javi. Just… don’t laugh or judge.”

“I won’t. Trust me. Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Your green shirt.”

His spine straightens. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wear it a lot?”

“Mmhmm, I sleep in it all the time.”

“I’m sure it looks real good on you, doesn’t it?”

“I think it looked better when it was stuffed in my mouth while you were fucking me.”

He groans, his heart racing as he reaches down and grips the heft of himself tucked away in his shorts.

“That was a good night, wasn’t it?” he asks, softly squeezing himself.

“It was one of the best, Javi. I think about it all the time.”

“Me too,” he divulges, remembering the brightness of your eyes, the sweet taste of your lips, the feel of your pussy clenching him. “I also really liked the morning in the bathroom.” You laugh–a sweet sound that makes his heart beat even faster–before you sigh. “I wish you were here, Javi.” “I do, too, cariño.”

“What would you do if you were with me?” you ask, your voice low. You’re such a temptress.

His voice drops to a sultry whisper as he closes his eyes and imagines you in his bed. "I'd start by getting you out of that shirt, real slow. I’d get to take my time and kiss every inch of skin."

You let out a soft moan. "Mmm, then what?"

"I'd push you back onto the bed, trail my fingers up your soft thighs." His own hand mimics the motion, sliding up his leg. "I’d spread your legs and kiss my way up, before giving your sweet pussy a long lick, savoring just how good you taste."

"God, Javi. Please," you whimper.

"Touch yourself for me, baby. Pretend it's me."

He can picture you perfectly–laid out on your bed, his shirt bunched up around your waist, your hand between your legs.

You let out a gasp and a long, low moan. He pulls his shorts down and gives himself a tight, slow stroke.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, rubbing the bit of precum he’s leaked out across his head.

“Mmhmm,” you moan. “I love it when you call me baby.”

“Baby,” he groans as he spits in his hand and strokes himself.

“Fuck, I’m so wet,” you breathe into the phone.

“I wish I was there with you, baby. I'd slide two fingers deep inside your tight little pussy, curl them just right to make you moan for me." He strokes himself faster, imagining the slick heat of you clenching around him.

You let out a whimper. “I need you inside me.”

“I need to be inside you too, cariño,” he replies, his hand moving faster along his length. “Tell me how badly you want me.”

“I want you to fuck me hard and fast,” you moan. “God, I think about it all the time, Jav.”

He grunts in response, imagining your body writhing beneath him.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

He squeezes his cock harder, picking up the pace as you whine and moan for him.

“You sound so good. I love the way you moan for me. You’re all I ever want to hear.”

“Fuck,” you pant. “Gonna cum.”

“That’s it, cum for me, cariño.”

You let out a loud moan as your orgasm hits. It floats through the phone into his ear and down to his cock. He lets out a long, low “fuck” as he reaches his own release, grunting your name as his cock pulses in his fist, streams of cum spilling out onto his hand and stomach.

All that can now be heard is heavy breathing and soft moans as you both come down from your highs.

He feels the guilt begin to show its ugly head just as you say his name.

“Javi, that was… wow.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

—-

He pulls an envelope out of his mailbox. Your handwriting is neat and flowy–he smiles at the bright green marker you chose.

So, this is why you wanted his address.

He’s opening the envelope before his door even shuts. He hasn’t been this excited to open something since Christmas morning thirty years ago.

He pulls out a handmade card–a dark green Christmas tree adorned with little red hearts is painted on the front, with MERRY CHRISTMAS JAV written in cursive above it–and his face lights in a wide grin.

As he opens the card, a bundle of Polaroid photos tied together with a ribbon falls out and lands on the table.

A simple message is inside the card.

Surprise! I hope you like them. xoxo

With a quick pull on the silky ribbon, the bundle is untied. He slowly flips through each photo, his heart skipping a beat as he assesses each one like evidence.

You’re smiling in a few of them, his green shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders. You look so beautiful, so carefree and happy. He traces a finger over one, wishing he could touch you.

His breath catches in his throat as he flips to the next photo. You’re still in his shirt, but you sit, wearing only that on your bed. Your smooth legs bent to the side of you, your eyes hooded, with a coy smile playing at your lips. He swallows hard as he flips to the next photo.

His mouth goes dry. You’re completely naked, lying back on your bed. Your body is on full display for him. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling slightly dizzy, his cock twitching at the sight of you.

It feels so forbidden, so wrong to have these photos of you.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he turns to the next picture. You’re kneeling on your bed, your hands resting on the back of your neck. Your tits are pushed out, your nipples hard. He can see the glistening wetness between your thighs. He wants to taste you so bad.

The following picture makes him gasp. You’re lying across your bed, one hand gripping the soft swell of your breast while the other is between your legs. Your lip is caught between your teeth. He can almost hear the breathy moans you’re letting out.

He flips to the next one, and his cock throbs painfully against his jeans. You’re on your hands and knees, your head turned, peering over your shoulder at the camera. The sight of your ass makes his mouth water. He wants nothing more than to grab your hips and pull you back onto his aching cock.

With a shaky breath, he reveals the final Polaroid. Your hand is outstretched towards the camera, a drop of your arousal glistening on your fingertip as if you’re offering him a taste of you. The image is so visceral he can almost taste you.

He sits back in his chair, the Polaroids tightly clutched in one hand while the other palms himself through his jeans. This is, without a doubt, the best gift he’s ever received, but he still feels wrong to have it.

—-

“So, any news?” you ask, your voice still a bit slow and low from the orgasm you just moaned out for him. It’s now a nightly ritual–phone sex followed by sharing local articles.

He scans the headlines. “The Laredo Little Theater is putting on a production of Our Town next month.”

“Our Town! I was Emily a few years back.”

“I-I’ve never seen it.” Frankly, he’s never heard of it. He’s never really seen a play–unless he counts the couple of productions Lorraine was in during high school. He wishes he was more cultured for you.

"I still remember my lines. Emily's monologue at the end about realizing what she missed in life. It's always stuck with me."

He leans back against his headboard, intrigued. "Tell me about it, cariño."

You clear your throat softly. "Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?"

“Wow,” he whispers after a long pause. "That's beautiful, baby.”

“Thanks, Jav. I just wish…”

Your voice trails off, and his chest tightens.

“I know,” he sighs. “Me too.”

He knows exactly what you’re thinking. If only things were different. If only there wasn’t a shadow of guilt and secrecy. He knows he’s already fallen for you.

Silence stretches. He clears his throat. “Your turn, cariño. What’s in the news?”

—-

Another sleepless night, another internal battle, another lonely sunrise, another cup of black coffee to try to wake him up.

The shrill ring of his phone cuts through the silence, startling him from his brooding. He glances at the clock–8:17 a.m.–an unfamiliar number with a DC area code on the screen.

"Peña," he answers gruffly, his voice rough from whiskey and lack of sleep.

"Mr. Peña, this is Agent Thompson from DEA headquarters in Washington. I wanted to inform you personally that we'd like to offer you the position."

The job. The one he'd interviewed for months ago, the reason he'd been in DC. The reason he'd met you. He should feel elated, triumphant even. Instead, dread settles in his stomach and heart.

"Mr. Peña? Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Thank you for the offer. When, uh, when would you need me to start?"

"We'd like you here in two weeks, if possible. Is that doable?"

Two weeks. Fourteen days to uproot his life, to move across the country. Fourteen days to figure out how to tell you… or if he should tell you at all.

"Mr. Peña?"

"Yes, that's fine. I'll make it work," he says, his mind already racing.

After hanging up, he stands motionless in his kitchen, the half-empty whiskey glass from last night sitting on the counter. The job he'd wanted, the fresh start he'd been seeking for so long–it's all here for him. But now, it feels like a curse.

He imagines being in the same city as you, knowing you're just across town. The temptation to see you, to touch you, would be constant. And Steve–how could he look Steve in the eye, knowing what he's done with you?

The guilt gnaws at him, heavier than the weight of everything else. He should be honest, should tell you about the job offer. But the words stick in his throat every time he thinks about picking up the phone.

Days pass in a blur of packing and paperwork. You try calling, leaving a message each time. They start out sweet until the third day when you sound upset.

"Javi, hi, it’s me. I-I don’t know what’s going on, but please call me.”

Each night, he stares at the phone, his hand reaching to grab it. But he can't bring himself to dial. Can't bear to hear the excitement in your voice when he tells you he's moving to DC.

On the sixth day, you leave another message.

“Hey Javi, it’s me again, I… I hope you’re okay. I… did I do something? Please just call so I know you’re okay.”

He has to call you. Has to think of some way to let you down because he knows, deep down, that he can't have you. Not really. Not without destroying his friendship with Steve, not without ruining your relationship with your brother. Not without tainting the pure, beautiful thing that's grown between you.

By the tenth day, you’re mad.

“Hey, Javier. I ended up having to ask Connie if she had heard anything about you, so that was real fun. Listen… I don’t know what the hell is going on. If you found someone else or… got tired of me, but I just—I hope you’re happy. I… I guess I’ll… I don’t know. I hope you’re fine.”

His heart clenches as your voice cracks on the last words. He can hear the hurt, the confusion in your tone, and it tears him apart.

He can't take it anymore–the guilt, the longing, the fear. It's all too much. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

Ring… ring… rin–

"Hello?" Your voice is hesitant, guarded.

"It's me," Javier says. "I'm… sorry."

There's a long pause on the other end. He can hear you breathing, can almost feel the tension radiating off of you through the line.

"Javi?" You sound uncertain, like you can't quite believe it's him. "Where have you been? I've been so worried."

He closes his eyes, leaning against the wall. "I know, I'm sorry. There’s been a lot going on. I… I got a job offer last week. The job in DC is mine."

Another pause. "Oh," you say softly. "Javi… that’s great news. Congrats.”

"Thanks," he says before taking a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knows has to be said. "Listen, I-I think it’s best if we don’t keep doing this."

The silence on the other end of the line stretches. He can almost picture you, your eyes wide with confusion and hurt.

“This?”

“Yeah, talking and… I just fear it’s gone too far.”

"What?" you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. "Why?"

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels his heart break as the words get caught in his throat, but he forces them out. "It's complicated. I’m so much older than you, and you’re… you're Steve's little sister, and I’ll be working with him again. It's not right. It was never right."

He hears you take a shaky breath. "So, you ignore me for over a week and then call to let me know this? I know you’re older than me. I know I’m Steve’s sister. That’s fucked Javi. How could you? I thought we had something speci—”

"I know," he interrupts. "I know, and that's why we have to stop. Before it goes any further. Before anyone gets hurt."

You gasp, and his heart clenches at the sound. He wants to take it all back, to tell you he didn't mean any of it, but he forces himself to stay silent.

“Yes, before anyone gets hurt…”

“You deserve more than me, cariño. I’m old, and I’ve been through so much. You’re still so young and full of life… I’d only hold you back. I’m sorry.”

"I see," you say, your tone suddenly cold and distant. "Well, thank you for your honesty, Agent Peña. I hope your new job in DC is everything you've ever wanted."

The formality in your voice cuts him deeper than any anger could have. He opens his mouth to speak, but you've already hung up.

—-

He stands at the windows of his new apartment in Arlington, gazing out at the lights of DC across the Potomac. Snow falls outside, and he reminds himself he needs to buy some warmer clothing. It’s beautiful, he thinks. His eyes search the horizon, wondering if your building is visible.

His apartment is nice–modern and spacious with sleek furniture that doesn’t suit him. It’s more than he needs, really, but the DEA had been generous with their relocation package. It doesn’t feel like his place at all, but a Polaroid of you that leans against his bedside lamp makes it feel like home.

He'd chosen this place for the view, telling himself it was because he'd always wanted to live somewhere with a skyline again. But deep down, he knows it's because he wanted to look out at the city you love.

He imagines what you might be doing right now. Are you curled up on the couch, reading a book? The newspaper? Are you, like him, standing at a window, looking out at the city and wondering what might have been? Or are you out with your friends, trying to meet somebody else? Do you miss him like he misses you?

He tries to dislodge the thoughts with a shake of his head. It’s been two weeks since that phone call. Since he broke things off. Since your cold voice let him go. He tells himself it was the right thing to do, that he’s protecting you from the darkness that follows him.

In a perfect world, you’d be here, looking out the same window as he wrapped his arms around you. You’d lean back against his chest, fitting perfectly in his embrace. There’d be no hesitation, no guilt. Just pure happiness, waking up next to you every morning. In that world, Steve would be happy for you both. In that world, Javier would be happy. But he knows all too well this is not a perfect world.

—-

He goes to the Smithsonian alone, wandering through the halls of the art museum on a quiet Sunday afternoon. The same exhibit you read to him about. The same exhibit he dreamed of taking you to, holding your hand and kissing your cheek as you gazed at the paintings. He moves slowly, hands clasped behind his back, taking in each painting. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, how to describe what he’s seeing, or how to feel… he wishes you were here to help him understand. None of it makes sense to him. Are the paintings supposed to look unfinished and kind of blurry? He imagines you beside him, telling him all about the break from tradition these paintings represented. He’d nod, pretending to understand, the same way he’s nodding as he reads the guidebook.

He pauses before a painting. Vibrant flowers grow amongst the dappled sunlight–the bright colors remind him of the way your eyes light when you laugh. He can almost hear your sweet voice reading the exhibit description to him again. He wonders if you’ve been here, if you’ve stood in this very spot, admiring the same painting.

As he moves to the next painting, a flash of familiar color catches his eye. For a moment, his heart stops. A woman stands across the room, her back to him, wearing a dress in the same exact shade of green as the shirt he’d left you. She resembles you from the back, and he takes a step forward, your name on the tip of his tongue, before she turns.

It’s not you. Of course, it’s not. All that’s left now is a hollow ache in his chest.

What would he do? What would he even say? What is he doing here, a cop trying to be cultured?

He moves on, trying to focus on the art. He thinks of you again, imagines your voice in his ear. “Art is for everyone. There’s no right or wrong way to experience it. Just let yourself feel.”

Feel. He doesn’t want to feel. All he can feel is how much he misses you. How much he knows he’ll never have this with you, seeing the world through your eyes.

Each painting seems to hold a piece of you. The soft light of a Twachtman landscape captures the glow of your skin in the firelight. The bold strokes of a Sargent portrait remind him of your spirit and personality.

He pauses in front of a Renoir. A man leads a woman, her hand in his. His eyes focus on their fingers intertwined with each other’s, imagining the feel of your hand in his. He rubs his hand against the denim of his jeans, trying to warm the coldness running through his veins.

He turns away, unable to bear the sight any longer. The weight of his regret, his longing, settles heavily on his shoulders as he exits the gallery.

He'd pushed you away to protect you, but being here, surrounded by a softer, more beautiful world, he wonders if he made the right choice.

—-

He finds himself driving through the busy streets of Adams Morgan, the same neighborhood you call home. His heart pounds stronger with each turn as he navigates the unfamiliar roads.

He parks his car and steps out onto the sidewalk, feeling out of place as he takes in the colorful row of houses and stores that line your neighborhood streets. He walks down the street, his eyes scanning the bright buildings until he finds the taco place you’d always rave about.

“I bet it’s just as good as Laredo, Javi,” he remembers you saying. “You have to try it when you’re here.”

He hesitates for a moment before pushing open the door. The small restaurant is packed.

His order is simple: two al pastor tacos and a Topo Chico, just like you’d recommended. He takes a seat at a small table by the window and waits for his order.

How many times have you walked down this very street? Have you sat at this very table?

He takes a bite of the taco. It’s good. Damn good. Almost as good as home. He can practically hear your triumphant "I told you so!"

People pass by on the sidewalk as he eats. He imagines you and him–his arm wrapped around you, your body close to his as you walk around your neighborhood. Your face lighting up as you show him all of your favorite places. He'd follow you, unable to resist your enthusiasm… or you.

The winter wind snaps against his skin as he steps out of the restaurant. He starts walking with no real destination in mind. Colorful murals, bright storefronts, and eclectic homes line the street. This is your world, he realizes. These are the sights you see and sounds you hear every day.

He wonders how close he is to your apartment. He imagines you coming home from work and stopping at one of the little bodegas on the corner for some milk or bread.

He doesn’t think he’d fit in well within this world, but he sure as hell would try, just for you. God, he misses you.

—-

Steve drops a pile of files on Javi’s desk.

“New case. Have some fun. So, how’s DC treating you?” Steve asks, casually leaning against his desk.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. Trying to hide the sadness that consumes him. “It’s different from Laredo, that’s for sure.”

Steve laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, you should come over for dinner sometime. Connie would love to see you. I’ll invite the usual group.”

Javier’s heart skips a beat as he tries to keep his face neutral. “Yeah, maybe,” he says noncommittally. “Been busy settling in, you know how it is.”

“Well, find time, Peña.”

The guilt, a constant companion these days, gnaws at him as he watches Steve leave.

—-

The early spring evening is warm. His heart beats faster as he gets out of his car and walks up the pathway to Steve’s front porch.

He steps through the front door, breathing in the scent of a happy home, feeling so out of place among the marital bliss and designer furniture.

“Javi,” Connie breezes over, looking like the perfect hostess she always is. She pulls him in for a hug. He’s always liked her, felt comfortable around her.

"Hey, Connie," he says, returning her hug. "Thanks for having me."

"Of course! I’m so happy to see you," she beams. "Come on, everyone’s outside.”

Everyone. Does that include you? He's never been this nervous, not even when he saw Lorraine after all those years.

He follows Connie through the house, his eyes scanning for any sign of you. His heart races as they step out onto the back patio. Steve's at the grill, chatting with a few friends. There are kids running around the yard, couples mingling with drinks in hand. But no sign of you.

It’s as familiar as all those months ago. He felt like an outsider… until he met you. He still searches for you. Still no sign.

"Beer?" Connie offers, already reaching into a cooler.

"Thanks," he nods, taking the cold bottle from her. He takes a long swig, trying to calm his nerves.

"Peña!" Steve calls out, waving him over. "Get over here, man!"

He makes his way across the patio, overhearing a snippet of conversation. He hears your name and slows his pace, straining to hear more.

“She’ll be a little late. Rehearsals for the play ran long.”

The play. You got the part. In a perfect world, he’d be there on opening night, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers for you. He’d watch you, so proud and in awe of your talent. After the show, he’d wait for you backstage, hold you close, and whisper in your ear how amazing you were.

Pride swells in his chest… until the guilt creeps back in.

“Hey, man,” Steve’s voice breaks through his daydream. “Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry. What?”

"I said, glad you could make it," Steve repeats.

“Oh, yeah, me too.”

“A couple of guys from work are here. I’m sure they’d love to get to know you. I’m tired of answering all of their questions about you.”

He lets out a tense chuckle. The last thing he thinks he can do is pretend to care about a group of rookie agents wanting to get to know the Javier Peña.

He really hates these parties.

—-

An hour passes. The sun begins to set, casting everything in Steve’s picturesque backyard in long shadows. Javi goes through the motions. He makes small talk with his new coworkers and Steve's friends, laughing at jokes he barely hears. His eyes keep darting to the gate, waiting for you to arrive.

He remembers the first time he saw you. You walked through the gate, your flannel shirt tucked haphazardly into your ripped jeans. He couldn’t look away from you. Maybe he knew he needed someone like you in his life–honest, bright, funny, and too cool for him.

He hears the click of the gate latch. His breath catches as he turns.

And there you are.

You look so beautiful. A plaid skirt sits just above your knees, paired with a simple white tank top under a soft, oversized cardigan. His heart hurts as he takes in your beauty, trying not to stare. You look happy, relaxed, glowing. He wonders if you know he’d be here tonight.

His rapidly beating heart sinks when you turn to say something to a man following you through the gate.

The man’s wavy chestnut hair falls perfectly in place, and thick-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, framing bright green eyes. He’s wearing a vintage t-shirt underneath a well-worn brown leather jacket. Everything about him screams, ‘hip theatre guy.’ The exact opposite of an old, grizzled DEA agent haunted by his past.

He envies the man with everything in his entire being. The way he gets to look at you–a wide smile, soft eyes that get to follow your every movement.

Javi’s jaw clenches as he watches you and your handsome stranger approach a group. Your eyes also scan the backyard, and for too quick of a moment, they meet with his… until you look away and laugh at something your companion just said. The sound feels like a knife twisting into his chest.

He’s hyper-aware of your presence all night, watching you from the corner of his eyes, each sight of you a blessing and a curse.

He tries to focus on his conversations, on Steve, on his coworkers–on anything but you. But his eyes keep drifting back. The man who came with you never strays from your side, his hand often resting on the small of your back or brushing against your arm.

He wants nothing more than to cross the patio, pull you aside, and explain everything. To beg for forgiveness, to tell you how much he misses you. But he stays rooted in place, trapped by his own choices and the consequences that followed.

The gathering begins to thin out as the night goes on. He watches as you say goodbye to a few guests, hugging them warmly. Your eyes sweep across the yard again, and for a moment, he thinks you might look his way. But you turn, whispering something to your companion before heading towards the house alone.

Before he can second-guess himself, he sets down his beer and follows you. He slips through the patio doors and can just make out the soft pad of your footsteps heading upstairs.

He follows you as if you’re a perp, softly ascending the stairs–just like that morning after he first met you. The light escapes under the door of the guest bathroom. He takes a breath, steeling himself as he waits for you to come out.

The knob turns, and his heart races as the door opens, revealing you in the soft light of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"Can I... can I apologize?" Javi asks hesitantly.

You shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, Jav. You can't."

Jav. Fuck. Hearing you say his name makes his heart drop. His hand taps against his thigh, fighting the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms.

"You hurt me," your voice trembles. Each word feels like a dagger in his heart. "I'm... I'm trying to let time pass by. To move on."

“Please, I never meant to—”

His plea is cut short by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs.

Connie appears, her keen eyes taking in the scene before her. She reaches for your hand while shooting Javi a glance. She understands without a single word spoken.

“Go on, love, go back to the party. Elliott is waiting for you,” Connie softly says to you.

He watches as you nod and quickly leave, not even sparing a glance back at him.

“Javier,” Connie says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s happy.”

He swallows, his brown eyes rounding with the guilt he too often has to hide.

Connie's eyes soften as she looks at him, her hand still resting on his shoulder. She leads him to the guest room where he spent that first night with you.

She closes the door and motions for him to sit on the bed. The same bed he held you close on.

"Javier," she begins, her voice gentle but firm. "I know what happened. I know you care about her. And I know she cares about you. She told me.”

He looks up at her, surprised by her words. "She told you? About us?"

Connie nods, a sad smile on her lips. "She was heartbroken. That first month after you told her not to call, she was a wreck. She tried to hide it, but Steve mentioned you while she was here for dinner one night, and she… she quickly got up and made an excuse. I found her crying in this room. She told me everything.”

“Steve?” he asks, feeling even more guilt wash over him, the weight of his choices crushing his chest.

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t know. I promised not to tell him.”

“I had to let her go–for her, for Steve, for everyone." He hangs his head, staring at his clasped hands. He squeezes them harder, needing to let the pressure out somehow. He searches for the right words. "She’s happy now? With him?"

Connie nods. "Elliott is a good guy," she says gently. "He treats her well. But..." She pauses and then sighs. “But I don’t think he’s you.”

A flicker of hope ignites in his chest. “How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know. If you really want to make things right, you need to tell her how you truly feel."

He nods slowly. “I can't stop thinking about her. About what could have been."

"If you really care for her–if you're willing to face whatever might come from being with her–then you need to let her know. But if you're going to run away again at the first sign of trouble, then you have to let her go. For good this time."

“And Steve?”

“Listen, he’s a big softy underneath it all. Might take him a bit to come around to it, but I’ll hide his gun for you. I know that, in the end, as long as she’s happy, he’ll be happy.”

He nods. He knows you’re the one. “Thanks, Connie.”

She stands, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just think about it, okay? And whatever you decide, be sure. She deserves that much."

Connie leaves him alone in the bedroom. He runs his hand along the comforter, closing his eyes, and can almost feel the warmth of your body curled against his. He wishes he could hold you again.

He takes a deep breath, his decision made.

—-

The house lights dim, the audience hushes, and the stage lights brighten. The curtain draws back, and there you are, center stage, glowing like an ethereal being.

His heart soars with pride as he watches you mesmerize the crowd with your talent. You embody your character completely, and he’s in awe of you even from his seat in the back row.

He hears the familiar lines of the end monologue–the same lines he heard you recite over and over months ago. They transport him back to those nights spent on the phone with you. The familiar ache in his chest gets tighter, squeezing his heart harder. A lone tear wells in his eye as he mouths the final line with you.

“I’d rather be alone than a stranger.”

The crowd erupts into applause as the curtain closes. You were flawless. He knew you’d be amazing.

You return to the stage, a wide smile on your face, the stage lights glinting off unshed tears in your eyes.

Now’s his chance. He slips out the stage door, walking down a side hallway marked "Authorized Personnel Only." In this hand, he clutches a bouquet of bright flowers and the day’s newspaper.

He pauses at each door, reading the names scrawled on makeshift placards. He finally finds yours, glancing over his shoulder before gently turning the doorknob.

He’s never been in a space of yours before. He knows he has to be quick, but he takes a moment to breathe in the scent of your perfume.

He places the bouquet and newspaper on the vanity, before quickly exiting and slipping out the stage door.

—-

Javi paces in his apartment, unable to sit still. He can still hear your voice and picture how you looked under the stage lights.

It’s been hours since he left the flowers in your dressing room. Did you find them? Did you read his note? Has enough time passed?

He pours himself a glass of whiskey, hoping it might calm him.

As he raises the glass to his lips, the shrill ring of his phone cuts through the quiet. He sets down his drink and reaches for the phone.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself before answering. "Hello?"

"Javi." Your voice is soft and hesitant. He closes his eyes, smiling at the sound he's missed so much.

“Hey,” he says, a relieved smile lighting his face. “Congratulations. You were incredible.”

“Thank you. The flowers are beautiful… and the newspaper?"

His heart speeds in his chest. “I-I was hoping we could read the news together like old times?”

Silence hangs between the two of you as he waits for your response.

“I’d… I’d like that. What’s your address?”

527 notes · View notes

stark-ironman · 6 months ago

Note

What about a smut of reader being pregnant and hugh is so turned on that he did that

All Mine

He looks so daddy in the pic 😮‍💨😭

18+ No Minors

A/N: I got carried away with this. I've read plenty of pregnancy fics over the past few months and this is the result.

Warnings: Pregnancy kink, mentions of lactation kink, smut, oral (f recieving)

"Cannon-ball!" Ryan yells as he jumps off the diving board into the pool and you hear Hugh laughing in the background, making you chuckle and roll your eyes while cutting up some fruit. The two men just finished a stressing press tour so Ryan decided to come by and swim before he had to go back to his house.

A kick from your stomach makes you jump a little so you place your hand on the side, smiling as the little baby inside of you reacts to your touch but wincing when you can feel the baby trying to move around.

Putting the fruit and the drinks on a tray, you carry it outside and set it down on the table, noticing Hugh staring at you intently from the pool. "Oh shit, food! Thanks Y/N!" Ryan exclaims excitedly while running over. "Are you coming to eat, hon?" You ask looking at your husband. "I'll eat later. I'm enjoying the pool at the moment." He says with a small smile but you know that's not why he's staying in the pool.

"I'm going to go lay down for a bit. You two don't do anything that will result in a hospital visit." You lightly scold with a chuckle. "No promises." Ryan sings as he jumps back into the pool.

With one last look at Hugh, you head inside and go straight to your bed, turning on your favorite TV show with the volume low.

-‐---

You wake up several hours later and notice the house seems quieter so you get up and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. "Sleep well, love?" Hugh asks from the stove. You look over at him to see he's just wearing a pair of shorts, making your eyes travel down lower. "Yeah, I really needed it though I wish you could've joined me. What are you cooking?" You ask holding your back, trying to take your mind off of his outfit. "Spaghetti. You mentioned earlier you wanted some so I went and picked up the stuff when I took Ryan home." He says turning the stove off and walking over to you, pressing his chest against your back.

"Come on, love. Let me help you relieve some pain." He mumbles, picking up your belly. A moan leaves your lips, leaning into Hugh while he holds your belly. The strain on your back is relieved instantly, causing you to take a deep breath. You two stand there for what feels like forever, looking at him with a smile as you tell him he can lower your belly. He slowly lowers it and starts to kiss up your neck. "Do you know how turned on it makes me to see you pregnant, love?" Hugh mumbles, pressing against you as another moan slips out of your lips.

"I had to stay in the pool earlier because I was so fucking hard watching you walk around with your beautiful belly," He turns you around and kisses you deeply, "The fact you're growing my baby in your belly makes me the proudest man on the planet and I plan to show that to you everyday."

Hugh guides you back, removing your clothing piece by piece until you're bare on the couch. "Lay back, love. I've been wanting to worship your body since this morning." He states crawling between your thighs, kissing up one side before placing a kiss on your clit.

A moan falls from your lips as Hugh slides a tongue up your slit, feeling him start to slide his tongue in and out. Your hand cards through his hair, pulling on it every so often causing his moans to vibrate from between your legs. His tongue worked in long, hungry strokes, and his lips closing down on your clit every so often. "You taste so good, love. So responsive for me.." He slides two fingers inside of you, kissing his way up over your belly, over your breasts before finally melting against your lips.

You taste yourself on his lips as he moves his fingers expertly inside you, letting his thumb rub your clit. "Hugh.. fuck." You moan, arching your back. "What do you need, love? Tell me." He commands softly. "Want to cum... on your dick." You whine, looking at him with every bit of want and desire in your eyes, taking in the scene in front of you as he smirks at you.

His hair, tousled and hanging over his forehead. Your slick glistening his mouth and chin, making you moan slightly at the sight and you feel his fingers pull out, watching as he stands up. He takes his shorts off slowly, letting you take in how aroused he is for you, looking at you with need.

"See how hard you make me, darling? Every bit of this is all for you." He states as he lifts your legs up, sliding in between them as teases your entrance. "You look so perfect.." He leans closer, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking softly before moving to the other one, sending shocks of arousal to your core. He groans as he slides inside of you, throwing his head back as he feels your walls stretch around him.

"You take me so well, darling," He leans down and kisses you softly, "You was made all for me, weren't you?" You nod, moaning as he bottoms out. Hugh sits up, placing his hands on your stomach as he thrusts inside of you.

"I'm going to stuff you so full of my babies, you'll always be pregnant for me." You both moan at his words, both knowing that it's all you two want. "Might even try to drink from these perfect tits of yours." You moan, clenching around him, hearing his breath hitch as he thinks about it.

He leans down, breathless and needy as he kisses you feverishly. You kiss him back with just as much passion, feeling yourself start to clench tighter around him, and you both cum at the same time.

His moans fill your ear as he empties inside of you and you grip him tightly, trying to catch your breath. Hugh pulls out and walks over to the kitchen, grabbing a towel and wetting it before coming back over and cleaning you up, doing the same to himself.

"I love you, Hugh." You breath out, grabbing his hand as he helps you sit up. "I love you, darling." He kisses you softly. "Now, is that spaghetti ready?" You ask, making him laugh loudly, pulling you close to him.

#hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman imagine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett smut #logan howlett

918 notes · View notes

tinydefector · 3 months ago

Note

Hello Tiny, I heard about the question board and I’m not sure if my question disappeared. If this is not the case, feel free to ignore this message.

I noticed there aren't many stories about Blurr or, more specifically, about Blurr and humans. I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing a story with him. I think he’d be the type who loves compliments, and although he doesn’t show it on the outside, he’s really interested in humans.

HE IS SEXY💖😭💖

Strange meetings

Blurr x human reader

Word count:1.5k

Warnings: none

Ahhhh sorry this took so long, mind you still trying to figure out hoe I like to write blurr but couldn't pass on the Swerve fanboy moment.

I hope you enjoy it Woose and I'll do some more reading on him and hopefully get some comics on him so I can write him better in the future.

_______________

Blurr's optics are focused on the strange little organic stands off to the side of the bar. Humans... they were fascinating things, he didn't often get to see or interact with them and the fact that there was one on this ship was rather surprising.

They are rather caught up talking to the bot that is bartending, a smile across their lips as they chat away eagerly with the minibot. The bartender has his face rested in his servo as he eagerly replies.

Blurr glances over at the human with a flicker of curiosity in his optic, Humans were such a rarity on Cybertron - he had never had the chance to interact with them directly, he wasn't expecting to see them on the Lost Light.

Swerve follows Blurr's gaze, grinning as he leans back down to his friend, in the midst of regaling the human with yet another wild tale from his "pre war" days when he caught Blurr's gaze drifting over from across the bar. The speedster's optics were fixed squarely on the human sitting with Swerve, his expression unreadable.

The minibots visor brightened with a smile. "Oooh, primus he's here, his optics are on you," he said before shoving his servo into his mouth to stop the sound the excited squeal he nearly let out, giving the human a nudge. Once he had calm down enough he speaks again.

"You know Blurr is a very big celebrity on Cybertron." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. Swerve glanced back over at Blurr. "Maybe I should introduce you two? I'm sure he'd love to chat." He hums.

It makes them chuckle softly. "A fan huh?" They tease Swerve. Swerve let out a nervous laugh, his field practically vibrating. "A fan? Oh, you have no idea!" He leaned in even closer, his voice dropping.

"Blurr's actually been a hero of mine for centuries. I used to follow his races back in the day, you know. Went to all his matches, collected his autographs, the whole nine yards." He glanced back over at Blurr, who was still watching them intently from across the bar.

"In fact, I even tried to get him to go into the bar business with me once, before the war. Figured we'd make an unstoppable team, me with my metallurgy skills, and him with his... well, everything." He chuckled and shook his head.

"Of course, that never ended up happening. But let me tell you, the day he first spoke to me I swear, I thought my spark was gonna short out from excitement!"

Swerve turned back to the human, his field pulsing with excitement. "So yeah, you could definitely say I'm a bit of a fanbot when it comes to Blurr. Probably always will be, if I'm being honest." He shot another sly glance in the racer's direction. "Although, who knows - maybe I can finally get that bar partnership off the ground, hmm?”

They take notice of Blurr making his way over. "Hmm, he's pretty. Drinks says I can get more than an autograph. " they wager teasingly. Swerve's visor brightened comically as he watched Blurr start making his way over to their corner of the bar. "Wait, you mean to tell me you think you can - " he cut himself off, shaking his head rapidly.

"No no no, you definitely don't want to go down that road, my friend. Blurr? He's, uh... he's kind of a big shot, you know?"

Swerve leaned in closer. "I mean, sure, he's plenty good-looking. But trust me, you do not want to try and get that kind of attention from him." He gave the human a significant look. "Blurr's way out of our league, if you catch my drift."

As the racer drew nearer, Swerve's field flared with barely contained fanboy fervour. "Oh Primus, here he comes!" he hissed under his breath. "Just, just let me do the talking, okay?"

Straightening up, Swerve plastered on his most winning smile as Blurr approached their table. "Blurr! Fancy seeing you here in my humble establishment." He gestured grandly to the human beside him. "I, uh, I don't think you two have met. This is my friend " he paused, shooting the human a mildly panicked look, not really knowing how to continue.

"Hello? Blurr right? It's nice to meet you " They call out with a smile towards the Blue speedster before turning their attention back to watching Swerve.

Blurr nods, his optics briefly sweeping over the human's form. "Yes, my designation is Blurr.” it takes the mech a few moments of just looking them over in curiosity before he speaks again.

I haven't encountered one of your kind before. What is your designation? And how did you end up here, on the Lost Light?" He asked, sounding rather shy with his inquiry.

Swerve chuckles. "Ah, the human doesn't have a Cybertronian Designation - they go by [ Name]. As for how they got here... well, that's a bit of a long story. Let's just say they've become quite the fixture around here."

It earns an eye roll from them towards Swerve, a small smile on their lips as they watch him try desperately to make small talk.

Blurr hums thoughtfully, his processor rapidly cataloguing the new information. "Interesting. I'll have to make sure to remember that."

"Swerve your getting side tracked again" they laugh as they watch the smaller mech, still waiting for their next drink.

Blurr glances briefly at Swerve, who's already returned to mixing the human's drink, then redirects his attention back to them. "I must admit, I don't often have the opportunity to interact with your people."

Blurr tilts his head slightly, his optics studying the human with unabashed curiosity. They are very different from what he had expected when he had been told about humans. They are dressed in what looks like a uniform, it fits to their frame, they look much softer than he expected as well.

" How did you come to be here? I thought humans only stayed on earth." He leans in just a bit, his field thrumming with a blend of fascination and cautious friendliness. This human was an unexpected discovery, and Blurr was eager to learn all he could about them.

"I'm a member of the Galactica union, there's a few of us humans around the ship. We work alongside the Lost Light helping set up communication points and shipping docks, the Ambassador is our lead officer" They explain but settle in.

"Thanks Swervy" they hum happily before enjoying a sip of their drink. “Beautiful as always, going to put David out of his job” they tease which makes the minibot fluster as his engine chokes.

Blurr's optics widen slightly at the human's explanation, his processor whirring as he processes the new information. "The Galactica union? Fascinating. And you work in tandem with the crew of the Lost Light?"

He's thoroughly intrigued by this human's presence, eager to glean as much insight as possible about their kind and their role on the Lost Light. Interacting with non-Cybertronians was a rare occurrence for Blurr, and he was determined to make the most of this opportunity.

They hum again for a moment before turning their full attention to Blurr. "We are mainly here to keep things peaceful, kinda a peace keeper sort of ordeal. But also to be Able to find new resources for earth and forge new alliances" they explain. "What about you, your not one of the Lost lights locals I haven't seen you around before" they hum, deciding to play dumb with the knowledge Swerve had told them about the blue speedster.

He leans in a bit closer. " I'm not a regular crew member of the Lost Light. I'm actually visiting when I heard the ship had returned and was hoping to catch Hotrod. He's a friend"

“Oh well I don't know if you will catch him, he's been quite busy recently” they explain only for Swerve to speak up. “Don't you mean he's chasing after the Ambassador like a turbo fox in heat, like half the ship” he teases.

It earns a shocked look from the blue mech, his intake hangs open. It earns a laugh from both Swerve and the human. “opsie, right new to the whole ordeal, half the ship seems rather invested in umm interspecies relations” they explain to him.

Blurr offers the human a faint, but still shocked smile. "I.. I wasn't expecting that, your presence here has piqued my interest but not that way. I'd be most intrigued to learn more about your kind and your involvement with our affairs. Perhaps we could exchange information - I have much to share about Cybertron and the wider landscape and culture." He begins his speech beginning to sound much quicker and almosted ‘blurred’ together.

He pauses, canting his head slightly. "That is, if you're willing to indulge my curiosity. I imagine the life of a Galactica representative must be quite eventful."

"I'd be more than willing to if you can keep up with my questions" they tease, a small glint in their eyes. Blurr's field flares with amusement at the human's teasing challenge. "Keeping up, you say?" he replies, a playful lilt to his voice. "I'll have you know my processors are more than equipped to handle even the most rapid-fire inquiries."

_________________________

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#transformers #transformers idw #mtmte #transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers lost light #blurr #transformers blurr #blurr tf #tf blurr #idw blurr #mtmte blurr

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klausinamarink · 1 year ago

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When Life Gives You Pickles, Make It Into Soup

rating: G | cw: none | wc: 920 | tags: established relationship, domestic bliss, soup | prompt: Love is silently passing them a pickle because you know it’s their favourite

written for @steddielovemonth

“So Gareth was supposed to stay on the drums, right?” Eddie waves his hands in the air where he sits on the counter. “That’s like his whole thing since he joined the band.”

“Okay.” Steve nods, glancing over at Eddie as he starts sliding the chopped carrots and potatoes into the pot from the cutting board.

“But during practice, which was today, he says that he wants to play bass guitar. Which, in another day, I would be completely cool with and the other guys will be like, ‘Yeah, Gareth, follow your heart’s intent and pick another instrument that calls out to you.’”

“That’s what you would say.” Steve points out just because he knows that Eddie’s that kind of person who says such long-winded compliments. He fills the pot with cold water from the sink, just barely remembering to throw in a pound of the meat bones to complete the broth.

“Okay, yeah, I said that.” Eddie rolls his eyes. Then he raises an index finger, pointing it up to the ceiling for no particular reason. “But I didn’t! I said none of that because Gareth said he wanted to change instruments today. The day before we will have our venue show!”

Steve drops his mouth open in a wide ‘O’ because he’s that invested in the secret drama of Eddie’s band. “He didn’t.”

“He did.” Eddie shakes his head mournfully. “You can imagine our reactions.”

Steve hums, opening the jar of pickles and plucking one out to pass it to Eddie. Eddie takes it and bites it without a second thought. There’s a couple pickles left in the jar since Steve had already blended the brine earlier so his boyfriend could finish them.

After a few chews and swallows, Eddie continues his tale of mutual devastation, still oblivious to Steve’s cooking. Good. Because this has been in Steve’s plans for weeks ever since he went to the farmer’s market and struck a lovely conversation with that Polish couple. He watches the boiling pot, making sure his attention is perfectly divided between the timer and Eddie’s story.

“-and then Jeff said, ‘How about I switch with the bass, Frankie does the second guitar, and you do the drums?’ I told him, ‘Don’t you remember my last time playing with the drums?’ Jeff just said, ‘Oh yeah, right.’ Then-”

Setting the stove’s temperature down to shimmer, Steve slowly pours in the blended pickle in the broth, mixing it together. He sees Eddie has finished his pickle so Steve passes him another.

This time, Eddie ferociously tears a chunk off, green acid spitting out as he speaks with a full mouth, “Eventually, it was Gareth who finally stood himself up and said, ‘Yeah, you’re totally right, I shouldn’t switch out before tomorrow’s gig. But I’m still doing bass after that's done.’”

“So who’s doing the drums?” Steve crosses his arms, leaning his hip on the counter besides Eddie.

“That’s the thing!” Eddie throws his hands up. Unfortunately, so does the half-eaten pickle. It hits the ceiling with a tiny splat. The two men stare up at it, Steve with genuine surprise and Eddie with horror. Before Eddie can splutter out apologies, Steve wordlessly kisses him and gives him the last pickle from the jar. Eddie carefully eats the whole thing with a bright-red face and eyes pointed downwards. Cute.

Steve double checks the soup. The lid’s so steamed over that he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been stained completely white. He takes that cue to take it off and shut the stove for it to cool.

Eddie finally speaks, “Yeah, we have no idea who our drummer could be. Like, Gareth’s good but neither of us are. Frankie has good rhythm but he’s better with guitar. I can’t drum for shit. Same with Jeff.”

“Bet that’s a problem for Future Eddie and his friends.” Steve quips, slowly mixing the soup around.

Eddie barks out a laugh. He hops off the counter and stands behind Steve, peeking over at the pot. “This smells delicious by the way. What soup is it?”

Steve makes a shushing gesture to which Eddie responds by biting his shoulder. Steve rolls his eyes and contemplates if he should put in the half and half cream now. The Polish woman at the market had said it was better to wait for the soup to cool enough before adding the cream and parsley. He shrugs and just dumps it anyway.

He retrieves the bowls and scoops a good amount of the soup. “Careful, it’s still hot.” Steve warns as he passes it to Eddie’s eager hands. “And eat at the table this time.”

Eddie sticks a tongue out at him but does so. Steve watches with bated breath as Eddie carefully blows on his spoon before closing his mouth around it. He sees the exact second when Eddie’s eyes widen and his body going stock still. For a terrifying moment, Steve worries that he had messed up the recipe and Eddie was going to spit it out in disgust.

But within a blink of an eye, Eddie’s standing in front of him. Hands clenching tightly on his shoulders while his eyes start watering.

“Sweetheat,” Eddie says oh-so softly, “did you make soup from pickles… for me?”

Steve smiles at him sweetly and gently squeezes Eddie’s wrists. “Pickles are your favourite after all.”

Naturally, Eddie cries his eyes out with blabbering declarations of his unending love for Steve. Steve is more than happy to hold his boyfriends and return those favors.

#if anyone makes me pickle soup we shall have an autumn wedding #klaus writes #steddie #stranger things #steddielovemonth

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cybiirz · 1 year ago

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ೃ⁀➷ INFIRMARY

Wriothesley x Gn!Reader

Sypnosis : After the entire incident involving the Fortress, Neuvillette, Chlorinde, Wriothesley etc, it seems you had lost track of time of which to spend with someone. Turns out, he missed you just as much. But maybe next time, find a more private area for such matters?

WC : 784

Warnings : Slightly suggestive at the end I think?

“Sigewinne, would you mind taking a trip to retrieve a package? It’s a box of bandaids since we’re low on supply so I’ve ordered some from the Court along with some more equipment. Bertin’s house should have the supplies,” You informed the young nurse as she listened intently.

After a nod and getting the list of the exact things needed, Sigewinne bid goodbye to you, leaving the infirmary in your care. Once she had left, you let out a deep sigh and stood up from the stool, heading over to a pin board hidden away in the corner of the room. You brought out your notebook and scribbled down a theory before pinning next to your other theories you had come up with.

Right now, you were lost in your thoughts as you went over the notes, eyebrows furrowed. But you were quickly brought back to reality once you felt a pair of bulky arms wrap around your waist, bringing you backwards which caused you to yelp slightly.

“Wriothesley, a warning would be nice before you decide to attempt to kidnap me,” You said to the warden, sarcasm dripping from your voice. You could already have tell it was him with the way he held you. He let out a laugh but continued to hold you.

“I just wanted to surprise my favourite nurse. Can a man not go around showing his love for his own little caretaker,” Wriothesley responded, breath close to your ear. You lifted up your arm and pushed his head away before you released yourself from him.

“You’re a strange man, I must say. And anyway, I highly doubt you should go around hugging random people and labelling them as your favourite. You may kill some with that sentence alone,” You informed him, hinting at his charm that many others knew about. Well, it’s between his charm or people wanting more coupons but either way works.

“Yeah yeah. I saw Sigewinne heading off, presumably to get some supplies. So that just leaves me and you which is rare in itself,” The warden was implying that the two of you had barely gotten some alone time ever since the whole primordial sea water incident.

But you chose to just hum in agreement as you tidied up the desktop sitting against the wall. You heard him approaching you before you felt him rest his chin on top of your head.

“I miss you (name). You haven’t even visited for almost 2 weeks now,” He complained next to your ear, his voice almost sounding whiny. The thing is, the pair of you weren’t necessarily exclusive. This visitation thing was solely known by only you and him. You sighed before responding.

“I know, it’s just that there are so many patients that injured themselves escaping from the whole primordial see water situation so there’s a lot to take care of. I wish we could see each other again, truly, but there’s so much for me to take care of that I've sort of fallen off track,” Your voice was becoming slightly hoarse as you rubbed your temple, the stress beginning to get to you a bit.

Wriothesley lifted his hands and began massaging your shoulders. “It’s alright I understand (name). Honestly, I’ve been busy too, I’ve just missed seeing you frequently. That’s all,” He said in a low tone.

“I get it,” You replied. You then removed his hands off of you before turning around resting on the table top and looking up at him. “Tell you what, we both free up our schedules and have a day dedicated to just us. Sounds fair?” The question tumbled out as you raised your eyebrow.

He gave you a soft smile before gently placing his lips onto yours. The two of you stayed connected that way for a few seconds before he parted for air, his breath still grazing against your lips. “Sounds good to me.”

“Before you go,” You began to add before bringing him closer again and reconnecting with each other. His hands grazed your waist as yours reached up to wrap around his neck, the passion evident between the two of you.

“(Name), I forgot my notebook and I need to take down some—oh…” The high pitched voice rang through your ears as you quickly turned your head to see Sigewinne standing there, still. Her head was cocked slightly as she brought a finger to her chin. “I always suspected it…” She mumbled.

Your face instantly turned red as you buried your face in Wriothesley’s neck to hide the obvious embarrassment. The warden simply chuckled as he stroked your back and held your head before mouthing an apology to Sigewinne on your behalf.

Maybe next time the infirmary should be a place to not show your not-so-secretive love for one another.

A/N : Loving these mini drabbles tbh. Writing them is so easy and not as time consuming, I think i’ll be writing a ton of them when I go visit my family tomorrow since the trip there is long. Feel free to leave any characters + their situations in my ask box!

#genshin x reader #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #i love wriothesley #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x gender neutral reader

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littlxpxtal · 2 months ago

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A World Alone

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

All the double-edged people into schemes

They make a mess, then go home and get clean

You're my best friend, and we're dancing in a world alone

World alone, we're all alone

I know we're not everlasting

We're a train wreck waiting to happen

One day the blood won't flow so gladly

One day we'll all get still

December Continued

The aroma of the house smells like a warm cookie. Mom had put out the desserts and I was finally able to excuse myself form the dinner table, down to my room to experience the first moment of silence since 8am this morning. After lighting a candle and changing into my pajamas, I settled into bed, turning on the TV and continuing the episode of The Vampire Diaries I had fallen asleep to last night.

A few moments later my phone started buzzing.

Income FaceTime Call: Rafe Cameron

“Hello?” I ask in a hushed voice as if anyone would know I just answered a phone call from Rafe.

“Alright what the fuck” he starts, his face contorted with anger, a hoodie pulled over his head, airpods in.

“Excuse me?” I ask, sitting up in my bed.

“Just watched the second to last episode of this first fucking season and ‘m pissed.”

I think back to what happens in season 1 in Game of Thrones and begin to laugh.

“Oh yea I should’ve warned you. The ninth episode of every season is like known for being chaotic.” I respond, trying to hold in my giggles at the thought of Rafe being frustrated over the loss of an extremely prevalent character for his first and not last heartbreak of this show.

“Yea a warning would’ve been nice I dont even wanna finish this shit now.” he huffs into the phone.

“What time is it there?” I ask, trying to change the subject and cheer him up.

“It’s like 3:30. What about you?”

“9:30. Im practically ready for bed.” I say with a yawn, laying back down and propping my phone up on my pillow. “How’s your Holiday been?”

“It’s fine. We did the whole forced family bonding earlier. We were out all morning so I’ve just been laying around until it’s time to get ready for dinner.”

“That sounds like fun.” I say, my droopy eyelids fluttered closed for a second.

“What about you sleepy?” he asks. I pop my eyes back open.

“Opened presents bright and early, had breakfast brunch with everyone. We played board games and prepped dinner, had dinner and then sat around and talked.” I went on, recounting my day as Rafe stared at me intently through the phone.

“That actually sounds nice. If it was with people I could stand to be around.” I laugh and rub my eyes.

“Yea, they’re fine. It’s always nice to see them but sometimes I wish I could just go far away.” I murmur.

“Like Bora Bora far?” Rafe says with a grin.

“Yes, Bora Bora far.”

“You should’ve came with us.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes at him.

“‘M serious. You used to come on trips with us all the time.”

I recount the trips I used to take with the Cameron’s when we were kids. For a while there I was practically their fourth kid. We visited Florida numerous times, went up the coast to New York, Boston and Maine. One year we had even convinced our parents to send us all to the same surf camp in California. Lucy and Wheezie were too young to go, but they packed me, Kinsey, Sarah and Rafe on a plane for two weeks.

“You thinking about that one surf camp?” Rafe asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yea how’d you know?”

“Cus that was all you and Sarah could talk about for months, how could I forget.” he says with a smile.

“I had my first kiss on the trip.” I gleam into the camera with a full smile.

“Yeah and you wouldn’t shut up about it.” Rafe chuckles.

“Who’re you talking to?” Sarah’s voice comes through the phone, slightly muffled, but it’s so recognizable I wouldn’t miss it.

“Y/N” Rafe says, turning the phone to face Sarah and she leans down and smiles, waving at me.

“Girl why the fuck are you on FaceTime with Rafe.”

“He called me to bitch about Game of Thrones.”

“Oh my god you got him into that shit too?” she asks with a smirk, looking at Rafe and then back at me through the phone screen. “You two are something else.” she says walking away.

“Alright ‘m gonna let you go.” Rafe says, fumbling with something on the couch, probably looking for the remote to watch the season finale.

“Okay, bye Rafe.”

“Bye Y/N Sweet dreams.” he says with a wink. The call ends, and almost immediately my phone starts ringing again.

Incoming FaceTime call: Sarah Cameron

I hesitate for a second, but accept the call. Shes now in a bathroom, away from Rafe.

“So what’s going on between you two.” I’m thrown off by her bluntness as she combs her hair, the phone propped up on the bathroom counter.

“What do you mean?” I ask, unsure of how this conversation was going to go. She starts to part her hair and smiles into the camera.

“You know exactly what I mean.” she was right. I did. I didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone, while she was miles away. I was hoping to have it when they got back form their trip. I sigh and turn over in my bed.

“There’s not much going on. We’ve just been seeing each other a lot more recently.” I say nonchalantly. Not completely lying, but keeping the whole truth in.

“You guys totally fucked.” she says, laughing into the camera, working her hands to complete a dutch braid on the left part of her hair. I gulp and shake my head.

“What?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“You and Rafe were bound to happen.” she says smugly. I furrow my eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s always had a thing for you. It didn’t ever seem like you reciprocated but he’s been after you since I can remember.”

“Sarah what are you talking about?” I ask again, feeling a weird knot in my stomach. Rafe and I’s relationship was purely sexual at this point. We weren’t “together”. What does she mean hes been after me?

“Remember when we used to go to Carowinds, and Rafe always sat by you on the rides, while me and Wheezie sat together?” She says, finishing up the braid and starting up on the other half of her hair.

“I thought that was because Wheezie wanted to sit by you on the big rides.”

“No it’s because Rafe would force us to let him sit with you.” I think back to all the rides we rode the last few times we would take trips to Charlotte and visit the amusement park. Now that the memory resurfaces, I recount all the times Rafe has made his way to the seat right next to me. Every. Single. Time.

“Its not like that.” I finally say.

“I’m sure its not, Rafe’s not one for commitment. But I knew something was up when I saw your name popping up on his phone more than mine.” she says with a straight face.

“Sarah I’m sorry. I really didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t even really sure what was happening myself. He’s kind of confusing and I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know what I want. We’re just messing around.” I mumble the last part, embarrassed to see her reaction. She finishes up her last braid and picks the phone up.

“I’m not mad.” she says. “I just want you to be careful. Rafe can do whatever he wants but when it comes to you, “ she pauses for a second. I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue.

“Look you’ve got a lot of people on your side. A lot of people that don’t want to see you get hurt. Just remember that.” I know she’s referencing JJ, John B, Pope and Kiara. I smile faintly at the screen at the thought of my friends having my back, even when I feel like I can no longer return the favor.

“I love you Sarah.” I respond. She smiles sweetly into the phone.

“I love you too. Now help me pick out my dress for dinner.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #obx x y/n #rafe obx #obx x you #obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fan fiction #rafe cameron x reader #Rafe x you

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redrose10 · 1 year ago

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Alright here is Chapter 5! Originally it was supposed to be a much shorter chapter but I didn’t like the way it flowed so I changed it up. There are still a few more chapters to go!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 3,016

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Yoongi had started making an effort. It was small but you did notice little things like the tea kettle already filled when you got up in the morning and he’d text you to ask how your day was going. He didn’t seem to be bringing home women any more either but you knew he had other ways of accomplishing that so you were still skeptical.

Yoongi walked through the door after a particularly hard day. His company was denied the patent that they desperately needed to move forward on a new project costing them millions of dollars and precious time. He of course got chewed out over it by the entire board and it soured his mood for the rest of the day. He just wanted to get home, take a shower, have a glass of whiskey, and get in bed.

When he entered his home he heard loud music blaring through the speakers. He recognized the song as some girl group but he’d never cared enough to actually pay attention. It was catchy though. But what really caught his eye was you dancing around the kitchen in a white T-shirt that was just long enough to barely cover your backside. Your hair up in a messy bun. Your hips swayed to the music as you stirred something in a pot before returning to the cutting board. He watched you for a few seconds admiring your beauty. How you sang along to the song somewhat off key but still managed to sound beautiful. He did deserve the scolding he got earlier because he truly was an idiot. An idiot that had someone like you right there practically handed to him and he tried his best to ruin it all.

Slowly he walked over and cleared his throat, “It smells really good in here. What did you make?”

You were startled nearly jumping a foot in the air as you didn’t expect him to be home so early, “Oh Namjoon’s mom gave me a recipe for Jajangmyeon so I wanted to try it out.” Yoongi knew you hadn’t spoken to his mother since the wedding but here you were exchanging recipes with another man’s mom. That stung. “Would you like some?”, you asked almost certain he’d turn you down like every other time but to your shock he nodded, “Yeah sure. Sounds good.”

Placing the bowl in front of him he immediately took a huge bite.

“This is amazing Y/N. Best I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you.”, you replied before digging into your own bowl. The two of you made light conversation over dinner. It felt domestic and while this was what you’d always wanted it created a fear in you that eventually this would all come crashing down and be worse than before.

He ate the bowl in no time and even asked for seconds. Once you were both finished he offered to clean up and wash the dishes. You stared at him in disbelief causing him to stop what he was doing and look up at you. “What?”, he asked like what he was doing was completely normal.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah I’m fine. Why?”

“Well I’m just waiting for you to tell me you got someone pregnant or like you’re dying or something.”

Yoongi chuckled and for the first time you saw his gummy smile. “I just thought I’d help you out since you made that delicious meal.” You gave a small smile, “Oh okay. Well thank you.” Quickly you made your way back to your room to hideout until he went to bed. You fully expected to wake up and realize this was all a dream.

After that night things between you and Yoongi stayed pretty weird. Technically they were pretty normal for a married couple but for the two of you it was strange.

He started eating dinner with you at least once a week sometimes more. Some mornings you’d wake up to him making breakfast. The two of you never spoke much but ate in comfortable silence. One day he even insisted that he accompany you and Namjoon to the opening of a new art museum claiming that he didn’t want rumours to circulate about the two of you but the way he placed his arm around you any time Namjoon got a little too close for his liking told you differently.

Things peaked at weirdness on a chill October night. It was the annual Min Gala and the first big event that you and Yoongi would be attending together. There had been other smaller gatherings here and there but nothing of this level. The Min Gala was known globally for its luxury and grandeur while pulling in celebrities and royalty from around the world, and you were now going. Which is why you were currently staring at yourself in the full length mirror you had purchased for your room. The outfit, something Jimin had picked, a velvet navy blue floor length dress with a deep v cut in the front and a slit on the right side that almost went up to your hip. Even you had to admit that you looked incredible. While admiring yourself you heard Yoongi lightly knocked at the door, “Y/N we seriously have to get going. We’re gonna be late.” Not wanting to make him angry you grabbed your clutch and swung open the door not expecting him to still be standing there.

He looked you up and down with wide eyes. “Y-You look very nice.”, he stuttered. You gave a shy smile back, “You look very nice yourself.” He then lead the way for you two out to the waiting car.

When the driver pulled up to the event you went into panic mode. There must’ve been 100 photographers along with hundreds of other various personnel. You were very out of your element. Yoongi could sense your uneasiness. “I know it’s a lot Y/N but keep your head up and just look ahead. I’ll be there with you through the whole thing.” You nodded as the car door opened. Yoongi stepped out first then turned and gave you his hand to help you out also. He placed a hand on your lower back and started quickly but gently ushering you through the crowd. You did your best to politely ignore the various questions being thrown at you while also trying your best not to trip due to the blinding lights. Once inside you felt a rush of relief. One of the staff members came over and grabbed your coats while a waiter brought you a glass of champagne which you happily downed.

You fully expected Yoongi to run off to the first woman that looked his way and leave you to fend for yourself but surprisingly be stayed by your side until an older gentleman came over asking to speak with him for a bit. Yoongi excused himself and told you he’d be back shortly as business needed to be handled.

You weren’t alone long though before Jimin slid over wrapping you in a big hug and catching you up on all the gossip you missed. He was in the middle of telling you a story about his trip when another presence walked up next to you. The man looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. Luckily Jimin stepped right in to introduce you, “Oh Y/N please meet one of my really good friends. This is Taehyung.” The man gave you a big boxy smile before reaching out to shake your hand, “Hi Y/N, It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”, you smiled. Taehyung was one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. He had soft black hair that had some natural curls which fell perfectly. Smooth skin and beautiful eyes. He was dressed impeccably. His outift a dark purple three piece suit. It reminded you a lot of the dark green suit Yoongi had on the day you met him and that’s when it hit you. You were talking to the famous fashion designer and owner of KTVY, a very prominent fashion line that had quickly entered the same ranks as well known brands like Dior or Versace.

You spoke with Jimin and Taehyung for a while listening to their various escapades. Taehyung playfully pouted when he realized you weren’t wearing one of his designs and Jimin being the one that picked it out made him pout even deeper. Taehyung started grabbing at your dress talking about the low quality and how he would’ve made a nicer dress for you. It was clear he was a very hands on person but you felt comfortable with him. “Looks like someone’s jealous.”, Jimin leaned over whispering into your ear. Glancing over your shoulder you spotted Yoongi staring back at you while ignoring the man next to him expressively talking with his hands. Instead of his trademark unreadable expression he actually looked angry and it made you feel a certain kind of way.

When he was finally able to break free from the conversation with his business partner Yoongi walked over and pulled you into him before placing a kiss on your cheek, “Come on Y/N. Let go find my parents.” As you were being drug away you quickly waved goodbye to Jimin and Taehyung missing the way they both rolled their eyes and giggled to each other like teenage girls. After your meeting with Jimin and Taehyung, Yoongi’s mood for the rest of the evening seemed to change. He refused to leave your side. Every ten minutes he’d tell you how beautiful you looked, the most beautiful woman in the world. He also decided to start trying to mask his anger by downing Jack and Cokes like they were water.

Eventually you were able to cut him off and convince him that it was time to go home so there you were waiting for the driver to pull up while you did your best to hold up the swaying Yoongi. Luckily you were able to sneak out the back so no one other than a few kitchen staff saw you. Once in the car you started digging around looking for a bucket or bag or anything incase Yoongi’s body decided to rid itself of the alcohol on the way home. Just as you reached to look in one of the cabinets you felt hands grabbing your waist pulling on you and you fell back onto the seat next to Yoongi.

He started nuzzling his face into your neck mumbling something you couldn’t quite understand. “Here you need to sit up.”, you said while doing your best to push him over. He looked at you with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.

“You are not going to feel good tomorrow morning. This is gonna be the hangover of all hangovers.”

He scoffed, “Yeah well I can’t feel any worse than I did earlier.”

“What do you mean?”, you asked while searching the car for a bottle of water you knew he needed.

“The way Taehyung looked you up and down and the way he had his hands all over you. I’m gonna kill Jimin. I told him not to introduce the two of you.”

You snorted at his remark. Yoongi looked over at you, “I’m serious. And after I kill him he’s fired too.” You just laughed it off. You were like 99% sure Yoongi wouldn’t do either but you made a mental note to text Jimin later and give him a warning.

Once you were standing outside your penthouse door you were fumbling with the code while trying to keep Yoongi standing upright and you were really regretting not taking the help from the driver when he offered. Even though Yoongi had a small frame he was surprisingly heavy and the fact that he had zero control right now was not helping. After finally getting Yoongi in the door you started walking him towards the kitchen to get some water and some food in his system when suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. Within seconds he had you pushed up against the wall with his arms on either side caging you in while using the wall to brace himself. Slowly he placed kisses starting behind your ear and trailing down towards your cleavage.

“Fuck that Kim Taehyung. I’m never buying shit from him again.”

You chuckled at his whiny statement before Yoongi grabbed your hips pulling you flush against him as he continued to pepper kisses all over any visible skin he could reach.

He moved his left hand to your lower back while his right hand slowly started moving down your hip to the slit in your dress that he gently started to toy with. “Y/N, I don’t know how you did this to me. I wanted to hate you so bad. I wanted to hate our situation. I tried so hard to prevent you from breaking down my walls but I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to love you and I’m scared because I think I’m starting to.”, he mumbled between kisses. He began to tease the lace of the black underwear that you had on and that’s when you broke out of your haze and stopped him.

He was drunk and you were sober and even though he initiated all of this it felt like taking advantage of him and there was also a part of you that was worried once he sobered up he’d regret everything and his words would mean northing.

“Come on Drunky. Let’s get you to bed.”, you said pulling him down the hall. He looked around the room confused, “Who the hell is Drunky?”, which earned a big eye roll on your part. You help him get undressed and put him in the bed. You tried to leave to go get some water and some pain killers but he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the bed next to him, “Please stay with me. Every time you walk away from me I worry it’ll be the last time I ever see you.” Again you remembered that this was just the liquor talking and in the morning he’d probably be upset that you were even in his room. You nodded and laid in the bed so he rested his head on your chest as you began to run your fingers through his hair hoping it would soothe him to sleep faster.

Thankfully it worked like a charm because he was asleep within minutes and you quickly got the supplies you were looking for before setting them down next to his bed for easy access when he woke up the next morning.

You pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and did a double check once again to make sure that he had everything he would need before heading over to the door.

You stopped when you noticed a bottle sitting on his dresser. It was beautiful and very ornate. A matte red glass bottle with a gold topper. In big intricate letters it read ‘Solace, A Comforting Fragrance by KTVY’. You chuckled at the irony that this was his choice of cologne. Gently you popped open the top and the familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla hit you and a wave of memories of the last year came flooding back. Taking a look over at the man who was now softly snoring you felt anxious and uncertain about the future. You knew how to handle cold cheating asshole Yoongi. That was easy. But this new Yoongi, the one who’s been trying to improve and who claims he’s falling in love, you don’t know how to move forward without getting hurt more than you already have been.

Placing the bottle back in its spot you walked out gently closing the door behind you.

The next morning Yoongi woke up with a massive headache. After downing the glass of water and pain killers he took a quick shower and walked out into the kitchen. You greeted him with a smile and placed a large plate of food down in front of him, “Here this is called Y/N’s happy hangover special. You need the grease and carbs. There’s also hot coffee ready for you but you need to finish a glass of water first.”

He smiled and began to dig into the food letting you know how good it was. He watched you walk over and water the blue hydrangea plant that he had delivered a few weeks ago. He thought back to that morning. He wasn’t sure what was more beautiful, the flowers themselves or the way your face lit up when you saw them.

Then like a bad flashback the events of the night before came back to him. How he was filled with jealousy watching Taehyung touch you. How he used alcohol to try and extinguish the flames that burned inside of him. The way he kissed you and grabbed at you like a horny teenager. How he told you he was falling in love with you. It was all true.

You hadn’t mentioned any of it yet though which concerned him. He thought maybe he’d upset you or took it too far too fast. He was worried that you didn’t take his words seriously and assumed they were only spoken thanks to his drunk state of mind.

He wanted to tell you all of that same stuff now, while sober, and maybe have a deeper more thorough discussion. He cleared his throat, “Umm Y/N, about last ni-.”

*Ding*

Checking your phone you saw a text from Jimin letting you know he was outside.

“Hey Yoongi I have to get going. I’m hanging out with Jimin today. Don’t wait up.”

“Oh okay.”

Grabbing your purse you ran out the door without looking back.

He bit his lip staring at the space you were no longer occupying. “I deserve that.”, he whispered before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi fic #yoongi x y/n #arranged marriage au #bts fanfic #cinnamon&vanilla #yoongi au #yoongi

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whumblr · 3 months ago

Note

Hey!!! I know I just sent an ask the other day but I didn't what to forget to ask this

Can I have a drabble where jay has a panic attack because he hears some sort of sound that zayne makes (example the click of zayne's knife).

love your writing so much!!

Have a wonderful day and get good sleep❤️

Fidgety

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

Jay didn’t mind afternoon team meetings as much, really. It was a bit of a break in the day for him, half an hour to shut his mind off, sit back, and just listen. Maybe pipe up every now and then, or zone out and mull over the words for his upcoming articles, but mainly, just, listen.

Today however, he was distracted. Or rather, kept getting distracted.

Unfortunately, Peter had a habit of clicking his pen when he was paying attention. He had one of those blue pens with a button on the side that clicked the plunger back. And he was very much paying attention now.

Normally, it wouldn’t really bother Jay and he could shut it out. But, well, first, his nerves were shot, and very close in second, the click sounded like that of Zayne’s knife. A little shk with every click and he could practically see the blade flick out in his mind’s eye. He managed to reduce his flinches with every click, blinked his eyes, twitched his fingers, skipped a heartbeat, but on the inside, everything went haywire.

He forced himself to take deep breaths, keep in control, to stop the hyperventilation from kicking in. Forced himself to focus on who was speaking, on the actual words spoken – that didn’t mean they actually hit the mark; he listened intently but the panic rising scattered the words from their sentences like leaves in the wind.

Calm down. He was safe. He was here in the office. He was—

Shk

He was down on the floor, face pressed against the wood, a heavy weight on the small of his back pinning him down.

Shk

Something cold tickled over his back. Something sharp. Pressure slowly increased and the cold tipped into his skin, breaking it, a wet hot sensation bubbling up, fighting against the cold intruding as if trying to expel it. Then it repeated itself. And again. Hot lines carved into his skin with a cold instrument, by a cold tormentor. The weight draped over his shoulders. A chuckle in his ear. The call of his name, an added fake compliment how he was doing so well—

“Jay.” Dennis’ sharp voice broke through his haze and shocked him back into the meeting room. “Could you write the suggestions down for me?”

Dennis, leading the meeting, stood in front of the whiteboard and held out one of the markers. He had a concerned look in his eyes and beckoned him over.

Jay pulled himself from his own swamp of anxiety and gratefully stood. “Yeah. Sure.” He accepted the marker and Dennis held it a split second longer than necessary. His focus was still on his discussion with Terry, but his eyes briefly snapped to Jay searching his for some form of assurance before he let go and stepped forward, resuming his talk.

Jay fully turned towards the board to hide his face. He squeezed his eyes closed for a second, let out a long exhale, and uncapped the marker, facing the group again.

Shk

Something pressed against his stomach, something cold, sharp. A sharp gasp and he made a tiny jump backwards. But he quickly calmed down again when he realised it was only the magnetic tray for the eraser stuck to the whiteboard.

As one of the other team members was speaking, Dennis slowly walked over to Peter, tapped on the table to get his attention and gestured his fingers down. Peter got the message and put his pen away. A little something about Dennis Jay greatly admired. He himself would never do that, scared of being accused of making a fuss about nothing, inviting confrontation. But Dennis not only did it, he did it without even saying a word, without making the other feel bad.

And best of all: he did it for Jay.

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror

@susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime

@freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks

@whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion

@afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8

@withdrawingramen @lolrpop @nugget4427 @light-me-on-pyre @treasureguardingdragon

#whump #whump writing #aftermath of whump #caretaker #anxious whumpee #whump flashbacks #home is where the hurt is #hiwthi #hiwthi drabbles #my writing #me queueing this last night before bed after an atrocious night: may i get good sleep :))

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lonelywitchv2 · 2 years ago

Text

Through the window

James and his friends find themselves receiving a nasty surprise the night his best friend gets home.

major AU where Regulus isn’t muggle-phobic/a blood supremacist, Regulus isn’t a death-eater (just stuck at home because he doesn’t know how to leave), Regulus is going to magically be the same age as the marauders and the reader (18), takes place after 7th year (all of the characters are 18+), the wizarding war isn’t mentioned in the story, and the marauders don’t automatically join the OOTP as soon as they graduate (explanation for why they’re just chilling at home after graduation). Also, James’ feelings could definitely be interpreted as him being jealous and liking the reader, although that wasn’t necessarily my intent so feel free to imagine them as super close best friends and James just letting his inner teenage boy get the better of him.

cw: unintentional (on regulus and the reader's part) forbidden romance, small mentions of abuse (Black family household), an allusion to smut with some not-entirely-explicit-leading-up details, kind of lied on the last one (brief mentions of some smut lol), me accidentally forgetting about Peter so he’s just at home/on vacation or whatever, the other 3 marauders being little creepers and lowkey pervs to the reader, making out, underage drinking, neglectful parents, she/her pronouns

internally crying a little bc there are so many aspects to the AU and cw

yeah so this is pretty dumb but i kinda just thought of the idea and rolled with it...

to my anon: i saw that you enjoyed the forbidden romance trope so here's another. albeit, this work is lighter on the trope and not necessarily romance (if u didn't catch that based on the description) but i might do a part 2 where it evolves into a romance. ig we'll see!! <3

join my taglist!

minors DNI!!!

James had known you his whole life. You were next-door neighbors and, although you and your family were muggles, you had grown up as childhood best friends. As far as you were concerned, James went to some fancy private school in Scotland while your parents, who were rather rich, sent you off to boarding school in France. James wasn’t the biggest fan of your parents if he was being honest. They never really cared about what you did, only sending you off to an entirely different country and forgetting you existed until you arrived home for the holidays. Even then, you would mostly end up spending the majority of your free days at the Potter house.

The moment you arrived home from France for your summer vacation, you sprinted out of your parents’ car (not that they cared) and ran to the home of the Potter family. Before you could even knock, James sprung open the door and engulfed you in a hug.

“I missed you,” James muttered into your shoulder, still squeezing you.

“I missed you too, Jamie,” You responded with a smile, ruffling his curly hair. You looked over James’ shoulder and spied the tall frame of Remus and the (slightly shorter) frame of Sirius.

“Is that Remus and Sirius I see?” You teased jokingly, pulling away from James’ hug, albeit not without some resistance from the boy, to hug the other two boys and place kisses on each of their cheeks.

“The French are rubbing off on you a bit too much, mademoiselle,” Sirius said charmingly.

“You can only resist the charm of the French for so long, Sirius, it’s harder than you’d think when the boys over there look as lovely as they do,” You said with a cheeky grin as you turned to Remus, “almost as charming as Mr. Lupin here.”

You pulled Remus into another hug, whispering in his ear as you squeezed his shoulders.

“Although you still have yet to beat the lovely ladies over there.”

Remus only chuckled as you stepped away from the embrace and sent him a wink.

James sent a questioning look to Remus, who only shook his head, before scooping you up and tossing you over his shoulder.

“My mother has been dying to see you, she’s brought you up in just about every conversation we’ve had since I arrived home,” James said, carrying you into the kitchen where Euphemia was arranging daisies from the field out back behind their house.

“Oh, darling- James put her down before you drop her on her head! If it isn’t my favorite child,” Euphemia said with a wide smile as she pulled you into a warm hug, “It feels as though it's been forever- you look as beautiful as ever.”

“Thank you, Euphemia, it’s so lovely to see you, I’ve missed you more than Jamie,” You responded teasingly, throwing a smile at the already pouting boy.

The five of them, soon joined by Fleamont, sat around the table enjoying pastries, which Euphemia had baked and you had brought from France, and tea as you told them all about France and James, Sirius, and Remus told everyone (muggle-friendly) stories about all the mischief they had gotten into at school.

Hours passed and the sun began to set as you said your goodbyes, promising to come back in the morning to enjoy breakfast with them.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? You know there’s always an extra seat for you,” Euphemia asked, reminding you of the offer that has stood for years.

“Thank you, Euphemia, but I ought to head home, I still have to unpack and get settled back in. I’ll see you in the morning, thank you for having me over,” You called as James walked her to the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I mean are your parents even making dinner?” James asked, concern etched across his face.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll see you in the morning, Jamie,” You thanked, pressing a kiss on each side of James’ frowning face, “I swear, it’s okay. Now go do some stupid shit with Remus and Sirius.”

James smiled, “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, Jamie.”

Later that night, James, Sirius, and Remus observed the dark window leading to your room, which was directly across from James’.

“Do you think she’s asleep?” James asked.

“Dunno, mate, it seems a bit early,” Sirius muttered.

“She just got back from France, she’s probably exhausted, Sirius,” Remus pointed out.

The three boys sat in silence for a while, continuing to watch the manor, void of any light within the house. The darkness was soon broken when a taxi pulled up to the house, shining its headlights onto the street in front of it. They watched as you, looking rather drunk, climbed out of the cab, along with a dark figure whose face they couldn’t see, and paid the driver. You waved the car off and it drove away, leaving the only source of illumination to be the glow of two lights on either side of the door to the house. The boys watched as you grabbed the hand of the figure, walked up to the front door, unlocked the door, and entered the house.

After waiting for a few minutes, all of which were spent whispering about the situation to each other, a dim lamp in your room flickered on and the attention of the marauders was turned back to the house. They watched as you and the figure walked in view of the window, which, in turn, made the two of you visible to the boys, who sat huddled together as you grasped the collar of the mystery person and pulled their head down to meet your lips in a sensual, drunken kiss, your hands entangling themselves in the curly hair of the still unknown person as their hands traveled up and down your body, grazing over your shoulders, back, hips, and ass. Your hands moved down to lift the shirt off of the person, the two breaking their kiss and light finally shining onto the face of your hookup.

“Holy shit.”

“Sirius is that-”

“Regulus? I think so.”

“Oh my Godric,” James muttered, gagging slightly at the image of one of his best friends swapping spit with Regulus Black, of all people. He glanced back at the window to see you now topless and Regulus groping at your breasts eagerly.

“This is so wrong,” Remus muttered, glancing over at his two friends.

“Which part? That my best friend, since I was two, is making out with Sirius’ brother- a Slytherin- or the fact that we’re watching it?!” James exclaimed.

“Both- dear Godric, we look like fucking pervs,” Remus muttered, shamefully glancing back at the window as both of your nude bodies moved back until you fell onto your bed, Regulus underneath you and you straddling his hips.

“Look at us, Rem- we’re camped at James’ window watching two people, that we know, getting it on! Shut the curtains,” Sirius exclaimed.

James stood up, reaching for the curtains before sparing one last glance at your window, eyeing your naked body rocking on Regulus’ with your head tossed back and his hands on your waist.

“I can’t believe it,” James muttered slumping onto his bed.

“It’s so fucking nasty- if I could, I would pay my entire lost inheritance to get rid of that image- don’t get me wrong, and sorry Prongs, she’s smokin’ hot, but with Regulus? Hell no,” Sirius complained.

“Padfoot-“ James whined, turning to face his friend, a disgruntled look on his face.

“Imagine what the rest of the Black family would say if they knew Regulus was…-” Sirius interrupted, pausing in disgust as the thought sunk into his mind.

“Having sex?” Remus continued for him.

“With a muggle. He’d be disowned faster than me,” Sirius muttered as his dark hair, which was very similar to Regulus’, hung over his face.

“Can we stop talking about my best friend fucking your brother, Sirius? It’s grossing me out more than I already am from seeing it,” James groaned from his bed, which was right next to the window.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I need to go to bed before I vomit,” Sirius responded, climbing into one of the beds Mr. And Mrs. Potter had set up in advance of him and Remus staying for the summer.

The three boys muttered goodnights to each other, the rustling of sheets settling into a summer night's silence.

It didn’t take long for Remus and Sirius to be passed out on their respective beds, however, James was unable to sleep and remained lying on his bed. As he stared at the ceiling fan, he felt the itch to peek through the window and see if Regulus had left. Climbing out of bed, James glanced over at the sleeping bodies of his friends before pulling back the curtains just enough to see into your window, where he observed your nude form lying on Regulus Black’s chest, your sleeping face barely visible with the light of the moon shining through your window.

Regulus definitely hadn’t left.

Shamefully, James shut the curtains once more and returned to his bed, allowing the darkness of sleep to claim his confused, perverted mind.

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thegirlwiththeblush · 4 months ago

Text

It Ain't the Being Alone

Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor, Tenth Doctor

Word Count: 1.57k

Fandom: Doctor Who

Song Inspiration: Unknown / Nth by Hozier

Summary: Rose Tyler runs into a couple of strangers who don't really feel like strangers.

a/n: I hope people who need closure from the Doctor and Rose find this fic; I wrote this because I would've loved to see the dynamic between Thirteen and Rose, so hopefully people enjoy my spin on it! Special thanks to my dearest @vorsdany of course for proofreading and being so generous with her encouragement!

Rose Tyler often felt like she was being watched. It wasn’t the typical feeling; it wasn’t anxiety-inducing, nor was she on her guard. It felt as if the stories from her childhood of fairy godmothers and angels watching over you were true; she felt almost protected or safeguarded. Only, she couldn’t pinpoint the source of the feeling.

Maybe it was the tall, gallant-looking man wearing a fez and bow tie visiting Henrik’s when she was on shift, flashing her a bright smile in passing that she felt deep in her soul. Perhaps it was the grey gentleman in the velvet waistcoat who passed her as she boarded the bus across town one day, his scowling demeanour fading when she turned toward him.

It could’ve been the man she ran into after leaving her mother on her way home on New Year’s, hiding in the shadows and groaning oddly.

“You alright, mate?” she’d asked. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself as the snow caught in her golden hair.

“Yeah,” he replied, not meeting her gaze.

“Too much to drink?”

He took a moment to catch his breath, before standing to his full height. In the poor lighting of the alley, she could just make out his umber trench coat and navy suit underneath. He appeared to be wearing a pair of maroon Converse high-tops; an interesting fashion choice, she thought. “Something like that.” His dark eyes settled on hers, and even in the darkness, she could sense some kind of affliction deep in them, something other than intoxication.

She smiled softly at him anyway. “Maybe it’s time you went home,” she suggested amiably, no ill intent in her words.

“Yeah,” he agreed. His eyes never left hers.

“Anyway,” she grinned, bending her knees and leaning forward in a friendly gesture, “happy new year!”

“And you.”

She took her leave, her scarf swaying around her legs as she began sauntering home, frowning curiously as she pondered the encounter.

“What year is this?”

She spun back round before fully processing his question. A chuckle bubbled up in her chest and she couldn’t help but let it out as she asked, “Blimey, how much have you had?”

He made a strangled, throaty sound, shaking his head slightly, as if to confirm that he’d had, in fact, quite a lot. Her smile faded slightly in concern. “2005, January the 1st,” she said.

“2005,” he repeated breathlessly, and she nodded, blinking rapidly. “Tell you what,” he continued, “I bet you’re gonna have a really great year.”

Her smile reappeared. “Yeah?” She couldn’t believe she was taking a random drunkard in the street seriously, but there was something incredibly inviting and reassuring about him. The grin he gave her in return, although somewhat rueful for some reason, warmed her to her core, and she looked away shyly, before turning to him once more. “See ya!” With that, she bounded across the street to her home, only looking back once she’d made it inside. He still stood there staunchly, as if frozen to the pavement. She tried to put him out of her mind as she made her way upstairs to her apartment.

Ever since that night, the feeling had only intensified, and while she didn’t mind it that much, it was almost impossible to ignore.

One day, she’d run off to Potters Field Park, flustered and bothered after a disagreement with Mickey. She couldn’t go home just yet, or her mum would end up complaining about something or other, like her favourite show not being on the telly, or Jimbo not answering her calls. Not that she minded, she just wasn’t in the headspace to be dealing with that right now.

She found herself a park bench facing Tower Bridge, the dew from the grass permeating through her sneakers and the cold air seeping into her bones. She sighed as she sat back and regarded the bright, cloudless sky and the world before her blankly. In her zoned-out state, she barely noticed the blonde, wiry woman approaching her softly and slowly.

“Hello,” she began, startling Rose out of her daze. “Mind if I sit here?” A thick Yorkshire accent imbued her words with a gentle excitement; Rose couldn’t help but think she must be a long way from home.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, scooting over to make more room for her. The woman’s long, periwinkle trench coat splayed out across the bench, and she scrambled not to let it encroach on Rose’s personal space. Tucking it underneath her, she made herself comfortable, sitting on her hands and drawing her mouth into a tight, straight line. They sat like this for a moment, in uneasy silence while Rose wondered why she couldn’t have found her own park bench, before she finally spoke.

“I wonder if I could ask you something,” she said, turning to Rose with her eyebrows furrowed. “Some advice, I suppose.”

Rose raised an eyebrow quizzically. “You’re asking a stranger in London for advice?”

“There’s something about you that makes me feel like we’re not really strangers.”

Rose was about to scoff at this, but she hesitated, staring back at the mysterious woman. She couldn’t help but feel as if... she was right. She couldn’t put a finger on why, but she couldn’t argue her bizarre point.

“Go on, then,” she finally agreed.

“I lost someone,” the woman continued, “many years ago. Many, many years ago.”

“Blimey, you don’t look like you’ve lived ‘many, many years.’”

The woman grinned. “Thank you. My skincare routine is out of this world.” She suppressed a giggle, as if she’d told a hilarious inside joke, and Rose blinked several times, but disregarded it.

Shifting awkwardly on the bench, she went on. “I can’t seem to get over it, no matter where I go or how much time passes. I can’t stop myself from going to see her, even just to know she’s okay, or to see that beautiful smile again.” She beamed proudly. “Her smile is one of the most precious things on this amazing planet.”

“Ah, so she’s still alive?” Rose clarified. She was struggling to keep up.

The woman scrunched her nose. “Well, sort of. Not really, but in a way. It depends.”

Rose was beginning to accept that this person was not entirely sane; how in the world did someone’s existence depend on anything? Nevertheless, shaking her head in bewilderment, she asked, “And what advice did you want to ask?”

The woman had been distracted by a small, round house sparrow, hopping through the grass in search of scraps, all alone. “Now I’m not sure,” she admitted, still staring at the lone bird. “I suppose just... what to do. How do I keep going with this grief weighing me down?”

A twinge of pity pricked Rose’s heart. “This girl really meant a lot to you,” she murmured the obvious.

“She was like an angel to me,” the woman concurred, biting her lip and turning her head as the sparrow bounced its way over to them.

“How long has it been since you last saw her?”

“Ah, now there’s a very difficult question to answer,” the woman laughed as she looked up, but when she met Rose’s exasperated gaze, she cleared her throat and corrected herself, looking away ashamedly. “Quite recently, actually.”

“Don’t you think, maybe,” Rose suggested, sighing and wondering once again why she was having such a deep conversation with a stranger, “that to get over her, you need to stop seeing her? Unless you’re visiting her grave, I’m still not quite clear on whether she’s alive or not.”

“Let’s just go with alive.”

“Well, alright.”

The woman seemed uncomfortable from being confronted with this point. She mulled it over, grabbing an item from her pocket and rotating it between her fingers. Rose could not discern its purpose or even shape; it appeared to be a distorted shaft of metal, with a glowing amber core running through it, reaching a glowing head at one end. “I suppose you’re right,” she murmured.

“I know it can be hard, the loneliness and missing them and what you had,” Rose sympathised.

The woman’s face contorted in deliberation. She allowed herself a moment to arrange her thoughts before responding. “I don’t think it’s the being alone that’s worst. It’s more, the being unknown.” Zoning out, she pressed a small button on the hunk of metal, producing a buzzing and whirring sound that startled Rose. “Sometimes I think there are some people who are better unknown.”

Rose wondered whether she meant the girl she so dearly missed, or perhaps, herself.

The woman stood up abruptly, shoving the metallic item back inside her coat and smoothing the fabric. “Well, I shouldn’t bother you any longer,” she announced, beaming warmly at Rose. “Thank you for your help.”

Staring back dazedly, Rose shrugged. “It’s no problem. I hope you are, er, able to find your peace.”

The woman’s expression turned rueful. “Thank you,” she replied. “Me too.”

As she sauntered away, Rose called after her, “Wait!”

She turned back with a small smile and eyebrows raised, almost as if she’d hoped Rose would call her back.

“You never told me your name,” Rose said.

The woman’s smile grew into a cheeky grin, and she raised one finger to her lips. “Spoilers,” she said. With that, she turned away again and strode off, leaving Rose utterly baffled and ready to go home for a very long nap.

30 notes · View notes