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rebelliousstories · 7 months ago

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Coming Home

Relationship: Luke Alvez x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Descriptions of Violence, Fluff

Word Count: 2,945

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part Two of: That’s My Wife

Summary: It’s a race against the clock in order to get inside and find out where Luke’s wife has gone.

Previously…

“You are just gorgeous. Don’t know how that man ever landed you.” As he grew closer, Theodore raised his gun with his finger on the trigger, and fired.

Bang

Leonard grabbed his brother’s arm and raised it towards the sky just in time for the bullet to graze her shoulder. He wrangled the gun out of Theodore’s hand. “The hell are you doing man? We need her alive!”

“Maybe you need her alive, but I’m perfectly content in seeing how well agent Alvez copes with the loss of his little wife.” The man tried to make another pass at her, but was stopped once again by his brother.

“We kill her, and we have no chance of getting out of here alive. I mean, we’re already going to have a hard time with you killing that guy, and for someone calling the cops on us before we ever started.” Leonard leveled with his brother.

“The hell you talking about, Leo?” Theodore scoffed.

“The agent on the phone, Rossi, he said that this was the first time we’ve ever been caught. That could only mean that someone tipped them off before we ever got started here.” The two brothers were chest to chest, and toe to toe. They had forgotten about the hostages and the reason they were there.

“Ted didn’t canvas the place properly.” Wulfric suddenly piped up. Both brothers turned to the man who spoke.

“What did you say?” Theodore turned, a dangerous growl in his tone.

“You didn’t canvas properly,” came his reiteration. “You were suppose to take care of this job, because we thought we could trust you to do it right.”

Wulfric stood and left the room to go find Samson, leaving the other two alone.

“Okay, thanks to Garcia, we have blue prints of the building. There is the main entrance and exit here at the front,” Matt pointed, “but there is one side entrance. It’s a wonder they haven’t even tried to use it yet.”

“What is their endgame?” JJ asked, looking down at the blueprints. Everyone stopped for a second as they processed the woman being there.

“What are you doing here?” Rossi inquired, with his brows arching.

“Heard you guys needed a little extra help so I postponed my vacation by one more day. Will is staying with the boys.” She smiled as she was refocusing on the case.

“Garcia brought me up to speed, but I’m still confused as to how and why they got caught now.” The rest of the team was with her there.

“There was something about the way Leonard reacted when I mentioned that. It was like he was just now realizing that they were stuck.” Rossi mentioned. Spencer held up a hand.

“That could be because he wasn’t thinking about that possibility. He could think they’re too good to be caught.” However, David shook his head.

“No. Get Garcia on. I think I know what went wrong.”

Luke paced back and forth throughout the room with his arms tucked in. He had not said a word. Emily had stuck him in the mobile command center while the rest of his team was working the case outside. While the air conditioning felt amazing, Alvez was losing his mind thinking about his wife that was stuck in the building. With a slam of a door, Prentiss stepped inside and closed it behind her.

“Have there been any threats made against you recently?” Her tone left no room for nonsense.

“No. Emily, what’s going on? Where is my wife?” Luke pressed, already on edge.

“Luke, answer my question. Have there been any threats made against you or your wife recently?” Once more, she asked. Alvez scrubbed his hands over his face before placing his hands on his hips.

“No. Nothing.” He admitted. His voice was defeated.

“What about anyone watching you?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Prentiss sighed, “what about the trial? You had to go and testify as the arresting agent. Did one of the twins make any threats against you?”

Luke had to pause. It had been so long ago, in time and cases he has worked, that he had pushed it to the back of his mind. Scrubbing his face for what seemed like the hundredth time, he tried to think about the trial. Nothing was coming to his mind the longer he thought about it. Luke pieced together the events of today and tried to search his memory when he finally found it.

“At the trial, when the verdict was read after my testimony, Theodore was screaming at me. He blamed me for them being caught and sentenced. He called my wife by name, and said that he would make me regret it. I didn’t pay it any mind at the time.” The look of revelation on Luke’s face told Emily everything she needed to know.

“Let’s go.” They walked outside and found the rest of the team to clue them in. However, before they could, Prentiss’ phone rang out.

“What have you got Penelope?” She asked, standing around with her team.

“Ma’am, it’s her. They just- they’re, oh god.” Garcia whimpered as whatever she was looking at was happening.

“What’s going on, Garcia? What’s happening to my wife?” Luke demanded, resisting the urge to yank the phone out of his unit chief’s hand.

“Theodore just hit her over the head. They’re taking her somewhere in the bank but I can’t find it.” The woman’s voice was weak as she tried to articulate what was going on.

“That’s it.” Alvez growled. He tried to make for the building, but was held back by Matt and Spencer. It was like they were corralling a wild bull with how much the man was thrashing around.

“Let me go! I need to go in there!” He screamed, but there was no moving the two men holding him back.

“Alvez!” Emily yelled over his protests. Turning around, the agent was panting with rage.

“I said I wouldn’t take you off. Don’t make me do it.” She promised, watching as the man walked off. Prentiss nodded to JJ to go look after him, before she turned back to the team.

“Garcia, you still there? What’s going on inside?” Recentering the rest of the team, Prentiss assumed her role as team leader.

“Yes, I’m still here. I’m trying to gain access to the CCTV cameras outside the bank to see if there is something that I can find.” Furious typing was heard over the line, when David piped up.

“Garcia, is there a camera over the side door of the bank? We know that there is one but we’re wondering why they haven’t used it yet.”

“Um, yeah. Oh, oh no,” she began, “um, so I see Wulfric and Samson transporting something out to a car but they keep going inside. Why would they do that?” Penelope asked confused.

“Because they are wanting Theodore and Leonard to take the fall for the job.” Spencer stated, feeling dread fill his stomach.

Groups of people sat around the bank as Leonard kept his gun on them. Meanwhile, Theodore was busy beating on Alvez’s wife. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh caused even Leonard to flinch. He turned and saw the woman fall to the floor with bruises already forming on her face.

“Alright, give it a break man.” Leonard pulled his brother off of the woman. She curled in on herself while Theodore panted with a smile on his face.

“Where the hell are Wolf and Shark?” The man looked around as he waited. His brother looked as well, but stopped after a moment.

“They probably found a way for us to get out.” Theodore commented, turning his attention back to the woman on the ground who was still curled in. The phone rang again. This time Theodore answered.

“Hello?”

“Theodore,” David answered, “how are you doing?”

“I’m feeling fine. Can’t say the same for Mrs. Alvez. How is Mr. Alvez by the way?” He teased, keeping his eyes on the woman on the floor.

“For your safety, he is not coming in there. Say, do you know where Samson and Wulfric are?” David asked.

“They’re finding us a way out.” Theodore commented as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Oh, they’re finding a way out alright. I just don’t think you’re a part of their plan.”

“You’re wrong.” He hung up the phone, and walked over to his brother.

David sighed as the phone hung up yet again, and turned towards Emily. The two senior members of the team had a silent conversation with just their eyes.

“How do you want to play this?” He asked, hands resting on the table beneath the phone box. Prentiss thought for a moment.

“Let’s get Samson and Wulfric the next time they come out. Reid, you and Simmons take care of that. Dave, Tara, we need to find a way to get inside.” With their assignments, everyone took off.

The two men went around the side of the building and saw that the twins had just disappeared back into the building. Waiting for the right time, their firearms were drawn as they assumed their positions. Reid stationed himself behind Matt, who was right in front of the door. It was only a few minutes before the door opened again. Samson and Wulfric stopped dead in their tracks as they saw what was waiting for them.

“Hey boys.” Matt teased, motioning for them to drop to the floor. Samson noticed the other agent behind him, and dropped. His brother followed suit, and the two were swiftly arrested and placed in a car to be taken downtown. After that, the agents made their way back to the rest of the team, and hoped that there was an update. Luke and JJ had joined them again which was a good sign.

“Are the Mitchell’s taken care of?” Emily asked, receiving nods of conformation in return.

“Went down without a fight.” Matt commented, focusing on how to get the rest of the people out.

“So, Theodore is seemingly calling the shots. We need to find a way to get Leonard to get out so we can take his brother down. He’s the main threat to her right now.” The unit chief explained.

“Let me try something.” Luke finally spoke up. Everyone looked towards the man, whose voice was rough with emotion.

“Where the hell are those two?” Theodore growled as his brother looked around the back of the bank.

“I don’t know. They aren’t here.” Leonard stated. The phone rang again. He stalked over to it and wasted no time in answering.

“What did you do?” He screamed, waiting for Rossi to answer him.

“Hello, Leo. Looking for someone?” It was Luke instead. Leonard stopped as he processed the voice.

“Luke Alvez,” Theodore turned to face his brother in shock. “What can I do for you, mister agent?”

“How about a sign of good faith? Let some of the hostages go.” Luke’s request made Leonard laugh.

“What kind of husband- what kind of man are you? You don’t want to speak to your little wife?” The man leered, confused by the agent’s words.

“I can see that she is okay right now. If you let the hostages go, I’ll come in myself and we can talk.” Leonard held his brother’s eyes while on the phone. He heard the call mute, and then click back on.

“No firearm, no vest. Once you’re in, we’ll let the hostages go.” He hung up the phone, and felt a surge of adrenaline power through him.

“Looks like we’re getting our reunion after all.”

“Luke, you can’t go in there. We’re not giving them another hostage.” Rossi shut down the notion as Luke was removing his gun and vest.

“If it means getting those innocent people out and away from danger, I’m doing it.” He set down the effects and jogged to the door before his team could stop him. Shouts of his teammates disappeared when he opened up the door and went inside the bank. Once he was in, he could see the carnage. The body of the man from earlier was dragged off to the side at some point, and people were grouped together. Men, women, and children were separated in different parts of the lobby. With hands up, Luke walked further into the building.

“Agent Alvez, how nice of you to join us.” Theodore greeted him, pointing his own pistol towards the agent. He held eye contact before a whimper tore them away. Looking down, Luke saw his wife; beaten, bruised, bloody, and broken. The man noticed his attention had drifted.

“Oh she’ll be fine. Maybe.” He teased, treating it like a big game. Refocusing, Luke found Leonard next to him.

“The hostages need to go. I came in on your terms, now they need to go on mine.” Alvez reasoned as Leonard patted him down. Once he was cleared, he started going to get the groups to their feet and moving them to the front door. Luke kept his eyes on his wife while he heard footsteps leave the building. Knowing that his team had them taken care of made Luke feel better about focusing his attention on what was happening inside.

“Oh I have waited so long for this.” Theodore growled, hauling Luke’s wife to her feet by her hair. The sound made Luke lurch forward to help her, but Leonard grabbed the agent tightly to prevent him from reaching the other two people.

“Now,” Theodore came closer with the woman in tow, ”what to do with you two?”

“Neither one of you care about Samson or Wulfric?” Luke choked out. The arm around his throat relented just a little bit.

“What did you do to them?” Leonard inquired, but Luke just chuckled.

“They’re half way back into the system by now. We caught them about to sneak out a side door without you, and with the money.” The brothers looked at each other, and looked at the agent inquisitively.

“You’re lying.” Theodore breathed out, yanking to woman closer in retaliation.

“No,” Luke rasped, “my team found out who you all are, how you met. I already knew your M.O. so it was just a matter of figuring out that the other two were using your hatred to do bigger and bigger jobs. And just like we took them in, you’ll be going back in.” He struggled against his captor for a moment before relaxing. They would be getting out of this.

“Not going back to jail. Ain’t gonna happen.” Theodore said, shaking his head. From behind him there was movement that Luke caught, only because he was looking for it.

“See unlike you, I know when to take the low road and drop.” Luke’s eyes were on his wife, but he was not sure if she could see with all of her hair in the way.

“You? Low road?” Theodore laughed, ”you won’t take the low road, mister FBI agent. You’re too much of a goody two shoes for that to happen.”

“Let’s put that theory to the test.” Without warning, Luke dropped to his knees and threw Leonard over his shoulder to slam him into the ground.

“FBI! Let the woman go and show us your hands!” JJ yelled, walking in with Emily and Matt next to her. Leonard was busy being wrangled by Luke who was tossed Emily’s cuffs in the scuffle. Once he was apprehended, Theodore was much more willing to give up as his brother kept begging him not to shoot his way out. The Jameson twins were taken outside by Simmons and JJ, while Emily stayed behind to over see her other agent.

As soon as the danger had passed, Luke ran over to his wife and pulled her into his arms. They were both crying and whimpering as they finally got to hold each other after the whole ordeal. Alvez holding Alvez; he kept pressing kisses into her head, before moving her hair out of her face to assess the damage.

“Mi vida. Oh, you’re here.” He whispered, looking at the bruises on her face.

“Hey sugar. Didn’t mean to spend so long at the bank. Kinda got held up with lines.” She rasped, prompting a watery chuckle from Luke.

“Only you would joke like that at a time like this. We gotta get you to an ambulance, corazón.” Standing, Luke gently helped his wife up, careful not to put pressure on any injuries. Emily had already radioed in for an ambulance, and she went to help. However, he was not ready to let go of his wife quite yet. Luke wrapped her arms around his neck and hoisted her into his arms bridal style, and carried her out to meet the EMTs. Before they could leave, Prentiss pulled agent Alvez to the side real quick.

“What you did was reckless, stupid, and you put in danger one of my agents.” She scolded, noticing how there was no trace of apology on his face.

“You did well Luke. Take care of her.” Dismissing her agent, Luke happily climbed in the back of the ambulance and held his wife’s hand the entire way to the hospital.

“How are you feeling, amor?” Luke asked in a hushed tone while he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Your memory feels like home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds its way back to you.” ~ Ranata Suzuki

“Better now that you’re here.” She replied, happily hugging her husband to her until the paramedics made them separate so they could do their jobs.

#rebelliousstories #writing #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x you #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez #luke alvez imagine #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jennifer jereau #matt simmons #emily prentiss #david rossi #tara lewis

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pinazee · 4 months ago

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Becky Barnes has to be the most underrated hatchetfield character. Like her coolness to fandom appreciation ratio is way too low. This bad bitch didn’t accidentally knick her abusive husbands femoral artery, she aimed for it, and left that bastard to bleed out in the woods.

Then she shot Linda in the middle of her forehead with zero hesitation and without any context into the whole wiggly situation. She decided Linda had to go and handled it.

But also she’s a sweet character. She was in that line, probably after work since shes still wearing scrubs, for the kids at the hospital. Plus, I personally, like to believe she didn’t “miss” hitting hannah with that needle, i think part of her knew what was happening and stopped herself.

Ill admit, i under appreciated her myself, but what a great character.

(P.S that stanley guy is still alive somewhere isnt he?!? Tbh, i don’t want him to come back because i dont want becky to have to deal with him anymore. But if he does, I hope another lady stumbles across him and finishes it for her.)

#team starkid #starkid #starkid productions #black friday #black friday starkid #becky barnes #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #i think it might have been because black friday did a lot more telling than showing #there was a lot of exposition to explain the background of the characters #some of it felt organic #like the whole song what do you say was great because it felt like a town gossiping #but other times i think they just overexplained and it took some of the impact out of the words #idk just my personal opinion #nightmare time #nmt #janes a car

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klbwriting · 10 months ago

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Adventures In Atlantean-Sitting

Chapter 2

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Arthur tells the council he has a plan, Orm meets YN and isn't too pleased

Arthur spent the next few days in Atlantis with the council, laying out exactly who this tracking metahuman was and what they could do. He explained that YN was someone who Batman had found originally. She had lived in Gotham for her whole life, in Arkham mostly, because she seemed to know too much about everyone around her. They thought she was using this power to help supervillains, however, she was not helping them willingly. Batman had gotten her out of Arkham and after she helped him track down a few of his more elusive foes he helped her get reestablished in Coast City under the eye of Green Lantern. She was able to get help controlling her power and now the Justice League called upon her if they needed help and paid for her to live just outside the city. She was trusted completely, very predictable, and she would be able to find Orm and when she did she would report back to Arthur and he would have a squad take in the exiled king. After much debate about whether an Atlantean should be with her while she did this, they council finally agreed to let the king do it his way first. Orlan, surprisingly, was on his side about this. Arthur knew it was because Orlan wanted to see him fail fantastically. He went back to the surface and contacted Orm, telling him to meet him at the edge of the woods north of the city.

Orm arrived at the meeting spot, carrying his bag. He figured Arthur was taking him somewhere new, there was an attack by Atlantean's on the city, he couldn't stay there. They might have found him and then Arthur would have a conflict with the surface world and the council in Atlantis. The man couldn't handle that kind of stress, he could barely handle tying his shoes. Orm sighed, he needed to stop thinking that Arthur was such an idiot. He had defeated Orm, had found Atlan's trident, apparently was able to run the kingdom well enough that the people at least were on his side. Arthur was not the imbecile older brother anymore, he was a good king, and a good brother who was willing to deal with Orm and his shit.

"There's my baby brother," Arthur said, moving to lift Orm by surprise, hugging him from the side and turning him around in the air. Orm struggled. Alright, Arthur was still an imbecile. "Now I need you to be completely honest with me, did you attack Coast City?" Orm was appalled.

"NO!" he said. "That attack was rudimentary, if you're going to attack a city like that, you don't just send in a small ground assault, you use the water that is right there to destroy half the city first, then you come in with a large ground assualt..." Orm stopped when he noticed Arthur holding back a laugh. His eyes narrowed. "You already knew I had nothing to do with it." He nodded.

"I did, but that insight into your brain was fascinating. You are a terrifying little man," his brother said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, I got the council to agree to me finding you, not sending out an Atlantean search team," he explained as they started walking down a side dirt road into the trees.

"Why do they even think it is me?" he asked. Arthur sighed.

"They found a weapon under some rubble, the DNA attached to it was yours," he said. Orm's eyebrows shot up. He could still activate some weapons? He may need that for later. "O don't get any ideas, I already made sure to send teams out to the rest of the caches in the world, you're scrubbed from all of them now." Orm's small fledge of hope deflated. He coup attempt would have to wait. "But anyway..."

"Where are you taking me?" Orm asked now, just noticing they were just going into trees. There wasn't any town or even a bus station to take him somewhere else.

"Let me explain. Because your DNA was found the council wants to find you, they know you're alive now. I promised them I would have a specific person find you. Well, I know where you are, this person I'm taking you to is a friend of the League. She's agreed to keep track of you and to house you until the real culprit of these attacks is discovered." Orm frowned. So Arthur's grand plan to help him was to have someone babysit him? He wasn't a child. He just needed to get far enough away, maybe stay towards the inner states for awhile. The council would soon forget him again and he would be able to find someplace new to settle for awhile.

They finally exited the trees to find a small cottage surrounded by wildflowers. There was an older model car parked by the red door. The place looked a bit magical to Orm. He had just watched a movie where there was a cottage like this, it seemed like a place nothing bad could happen. Arthur walked up to the door and knocked. A woman answered and smiled big at Arthur, hugging him tight before looking to Orm and smiling. Poseidon, that smile was like sunshine. Orm immediately liked her, but hated that she was his keeper. He would be getting out of this place as soon as he could. She walked over, extending her hand to him. Orm shook it politely before pulling back. The woman smiled.

"You must be Orm, Arthur has told me about your predicament. But you have no worries here. This place is completely off the books, so no one will know you're here. Well except me, but you knew that," she said. "I'm YN, come inside." She took his bag before he could argue, and walked back into the house. Orm entered and looked around. It was small, but just enough for one, maybe two people to be comfortable. She stood in the middle of the main room. She pointed out where everything was, living area, dining table, kitchen, bathroom, and one bedroom. He frowned.

"Am I sleeping on the couch?" Orm asked. The couch looked old, and honestly, not very comfortable. Arthur nudged him hard in the side, glaring. Apparently he was being rude.

"No, I am taking the couch. I set up my room for you. I wouldn't let a king sleep in squalor," she said. Orm flushed a little at the term. Was she needling him or trying to be kind? Arthur glowered a little and Orm decided she must be being kind to him. Arthur however, could see the look YN was giving his brother. She was smitten by Orm and Arthur really wished she wasn't the only meta he knew with these powers. She might be a liability. He knew Orm would run and he needed his brother to stay put and he needed someone who could keep him here and right now that was looking less likely. Maybe he would have Lantern come by tomorrow, just to check on things. Right now he needed to leave and get back to Atlantis.

"Well, you two kids have fun, Orm, stay here and YN, please keep an eye on him," he implored. YN saluted him and smiled. Orm just sighed and nodded, pretending defeat. "Thank you." With that Arthur left and Orm and YN were left alone. YN smiled and Orm for a moment thought, maybe I'll stay.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #kingormxreader #ormseries5

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polizwrites · 1 month ago

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Looking High and Low

This is a fill for today’s @flufftober prompt Day 26. “I can’t find it.” and the @fictober-event prompt Day 10 :“Is this normal?” as well as the @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo October prompt Alpine.

Fandom: MCU/Marvel Pairing: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Alpine the Cat Summary: Tony finds more than he bargained for when he attempts to help Bucky find Alpine’s lost toy. Word Count: 395

“I can’t find it.” Bucky declared from the living room. His voice was tight, which concerned Tony, as his boyfriend was normally an easy-going kind of guy.

“Can’t find what?” He expected the answer to be something important, like car keys, or his wallet. Bucky’s response was oddly muffled, so Tony went to investigate.

Bucky was stretched out on the floor, half under the couch while his cat - who still hadn’t quite warmed up to Tony - paced restlessly around him. making an irritated (and irritating) yowl. “What can’t you find, sunshine?”

Bucky wiggled himself back out into the open, his shirt covered in white cat hairs. “Alpine’s favorite toy.” He made a spitting noise and scrubbed at his face; apparently some fur had gotten in his mouth as well. “You know, the little mousie with the pouch for catnip?”

Tony didn’t know, but made a sympathetic hum. “Where did you see it last?”

Bucky shot him a look. “If I could remember that, Alpine would already have her mousie back!”

“Good point.” In an attempt to placate his boyfriend - and possibly get in Alpine’s good graces - Tony joined the search. His attempt at following a grid pattern was stymied when Bucky declared, “I’ve already looked everywhere!”

Tony bit back the impulse to reply, ‘well, obviously not everywhere’ and instead went into the kitchen. Knowing Alpine’s habit of getting up on top of the cabinets, Tony pulled a chair up to the counter and stood on it, using his phone’s flashlight to peer into the dark recesses.

He saw something furry and grey back in the corner, and reached for it - only for it to move. “Aaaah!” Tony yelled, flailing backward and losing his balance in the process. He had just enough time to wonder how much hitting the floor was going to hurt before strong arms caught him.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Bucky’s brow was furrowed with worry.

“I was looking for Alpine’s toy up there,” Tony pointed, “and found something alive instead!”

Bucky grimaced. “Uh oh - sounds like the mice might be back.”

“Mice?” Tony squeaked, ““is this normal?”

“Not exactly, but it is an old building and sometimes the little critters find their way in.” Bucky shrugged. “That’s kind of why I got Alpine in the first place.”

“Then she needs to step up her game,” Tony grumbled, “and go after the real mousies.”

#flufftober 2024 #Day 26 #fictober24 #Day 10 #MCU/Marvel #WinterIron #Tony x Bucky #Bucky x Tony #shameless self promo #writing stuff

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sortasirius · 7 months ago

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First Place

Fandom: 911

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Words: 2209

Rating: T

Summary: Buck wakes from the same repeating nightmare to a knock on his door.

Title comes from this song.

Also on AO3 here

Stay with me. He was pushing on the wound in Eddie’s chest, soaking the gauze he had packed on there, soaking his hands, a hole blown in a levy, a tidal wave that Buck couldn’t stem.

A loud rhythmic sound, maybe one of the machines on the rig acting up. Buck didn’t have time to worry about that, he just had to worry about keeping Eddie awake. Keeping him alive.

He was not allowed to leave, he wasn’t allowed to go to a place where Buck couldn’t immediately follow.

Stay with me.

He repeated the words like a mantra, like a prayer, saying them over and over as Eddie’s eyes rolled in and out of focus, his hand scrabbling blindly on the metal floor beside him, then coming up to rest on Buck’s forearm, then back down again.

Stay with me, you have to stay with me.

More of that rhythmic noise, louder this time. He thought he heard his own name.

“Open up!”

He looked around, only now noticing that the rig was empty. He looked up at the driver’s seat.

Empty.

Buck, Eddie whispered, his hand coming up to touch his face now, Buck-

Stay with me.

You have to stay with me.

“Buck!”

He sat straight up from the couch, gasping for air, his heart doing its best to beat out of his chest as whoever was at his door knocked loudly again.

He scrubbed a hand down his face as he moved slowly towards the door, trying to shake the fear that clung to him like a second skin.

Just another nightmare, just like all the others he had had since Eddie had had a hole blown right through him.

He had thought, maybe stupidly, that with Eddie home now, things would go back to normal. He was safe, at home with Chris and probably Ana. He was home. He was with Chris. It was fine.

He would tell himself this over and over, even as he would watch the clock tick nearer and nearer to dawn, and would finally gave up on sleeping all together and just sit in front of the tv, not taking in the flickering images in front of his eyes.

He thought it might be easier if he could stay with Eddie, but he couldn’t ask him that. He had his own life, his own son, his own girlfriend. He didn’t need Buck hanging on like a lost puppy, clinging to him like a life raft in a storm.

That never worked out for Buck, but he had never been able to let go.

He pulled open the door, only to see Eddie himself, dressed in that cream colored henley that Buck had always thought looked great on him and…pajama pants?

“Hey,” Buck blinked, looking around, “I didn’t expect-“

“Can I come in?” Eddie was shifting side to side, like he was nervous, and it was rare that Buck ever saw Eddie nervous.

“Sure,” he said, inwardly thankful that Taylor had already left. She didn’t like to stay the night, she said Buck was too cuddly and it made her too hot, “I figured you’d be with Chris.”

“He’s in bed,” he looked over his shoulder, into Buck’s apartment, “Can I come in?”

“Oh, sure. Of course,” he stood by to let him pass, analyzing his movements as he walked by him.

He was moving well. Buck had been up half the night googling signs and symptoms of infection or blood poisoning or a myriad of other things WebMD told him could come along with an extended hospital stay or a heavy caliber gunshot wound.

He’d lost so much blood, seeping out onto the asphalt, his insides out-

He gave his head a little shake, closing the door and following Eddie to the couch, sinking down onto it next to him, and looking at him curiously.

The silence stretched on, Buck watching Eddie, Eddie watching his hands. They were twisting together, like he was working up to something.

“I dumped Ana,” he finally said, so bluntly that Buck was taken aback.

“Oh did- Did something happen?”

Something like a small smile curled Eddie’s mouth, but he still wouldn’t look at Buck.

“Yeah. Carla.”

Whoa. This was a new development.

“You- You’re dating Carla?”

“What? No,” he laughed, “No it- it was something she said to me.”

Another silence. Buck couldn’t understand where this was going, or why Eddie had come to the loft just to tell him this in the middle of the night when they would see each other on shift the next morning.

“What’d she say?”

“That- That I had to make sure I was following my own heart, not just Christopher’s. And I was thinking about it and I realized she was right, I was just with Ana because she was nice and because Chris liked her.”

“Oof. Rough. Hope you didn’t say that to her.”

“But I realized,” Eddie continued, plowing over Buck’s words, “That there was someone we had in common. Someone Chris loves that I- I think I do too.”

There was a sick kind of sinking in his gut, something that he didn’t really understand, but something that was common anytime Eddie mentioned a date or someone he was seeing.

“Oh yeah?” he tried to keep up a bright smile, “Who’s that?”

Eddie didn’t answer him, but just…looked at him instead.

“What?”

“You know,” he seemed to be choosing his words more carefully now, “When I got shot, you were the first thing I saw.”

Buck shifted; he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to remember that horrible moment, something that he was sure was going to keep him awake for years, screaming nightmares punctuating his sleep.

Eddie on the ground, his warm blood splattered across Buck’s face…

“It didn’t even hurt, really,” Eddie was saying, “The shock of it, you know. I don’t even remember falling, but I remember I couldn’t see you.”

Buck rubbed at his chest, where was he going with this? It’s not like he didn’t remember, it was just a couple of weeks ago and felt like he was still living in the nightmare. He saw him bleeding out, Buck powerless to do anything but watch every time he closed his eyes.

“And then I looked under the rig and I saw you, and I could hear yelling and shots from the sniper and screaming and a fire nearby, but I-”

He broke off, shaking his head, but the idea of him not finishing what he was going to say was suddenly too heartbreaking to bear.

“What? You can tell me.”

He took a deep, steadying breath.

“I was reaching for you. I was reaching for you because- Because I didn’t want to die without touching you, even just for a second. Just one last second.”

Buck felt like all the air had been punched out of his chest.

“You-”

“And then the way you talked after. How it should have been you, how it would have been better if it was you,” Eddie shook his head, looking almost angry, “I can’t- Chris needs you. I- I need you. I need you, Buck.”

“You- You need me?” he said slowly, trying to force his brain to work faster.

“Yeah,” he whispered, shifting closer to him on the couch, so their knees were touching, “I need you more than Chris does, and he’s already complaining that he hasn’t seen you in two days.”

“I just wanted to give you your space,” he mumbled, head low.

“You don’t have to give us- Give me any space. I want you around, always.”

“For now,” Buck let the words slip without even thinking, his internal monologue slipping out uninvited. Instantly, he wished he could take them back, because Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed down in concern and he reached for him, gripping his knee in his hand, warmth leeching through the fabric of Buck’s sweatpants.

“What do you mean, ‘for now’?”

“Nothing,” he said it too quickly, but wouldn’t pull away from Eddie, nothing in the universe could make him pull away from Eddie ever again, “It’s stupid.”

“No,” he was using that same tone he had used in the hospital, when he had told him that he wasn’t replaceable. Forceful. Assured. Like nothing had ever been more true. “Tell me what you meant.”

“It’s just-” he had never said this to anyone, never let it see the light of day. Because if he said it, he would lose them that much faster, “Everyone leaves eventually, when they see me.”

“See you?” he couldn’t escape the look on Eddie’s face, “What do you mean, see you?”

“Just when- When I’m too much. Because I’m always too much. It’s what everyone says.”

“Who says that? I wouldn’t say that.”

“I just- The way I act. I’m too much. I’m…I’m exhausting.”

Eddie’s whole face changed.

“Oh Buck-”

“No it’s fine. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“I was just mad at you-” Eddie sounded frantic, “I didn’t mean.”

“It’s not you, it’s everyone. My parents, my sister, the rest of the crew, any girl…ever. Even Taylor tells me she can’t stay because I cuddle too much, even when I’m asleep I cling too hard. I know I’m too much and I just- I can’t get my hopes up that anything would be different here.”

He swallowed, blinking back tears that stung his eyes.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice was so gentle, “Will you look at me?”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want Eddie to see him going to pieces over something as silly as this. It was just the truth, something that he had known from the time he was a child, even years before he knew that he was only born for spare parts; he loved too hard, and he crushed the people that he loved in the process of loving them.

So it was easier for everyone to leave him, or else risk being suffocated.

A gentle hand came up to lift his chin, and he was looking at Eddie, his gaze something dangerously close to tender.

“You aren’t too much,” Buck snorted wetly, making to shrug him off, but Eddie held fast, “No, listen to me. Really listen to me. You aren’t too much, and fuck everyone for ever making you feel like you were. Fuck me, for all that. I was just angry at you- I didn’t realize what I was saying would leave- Leave such a mark. But it’s not true, Buck. You’ve never been too much, not for Chris. Not for me.”

“I don’t know,” he wanted to try for humor, otherwise he’d be bursting into tears right here in front of Eddie, “You get pretty annoyed at me.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re pretty annoying,” a ghost of a smile flitted across his face, “But that doesn’t mean you’ve ever been too much.”

Buck closed his eyes, hot tears leaking from them against his will. He felt the pad of Eddie’s thumb wiping them away, and he leaned into the contact.

“Don’t- Please don’t just be saying this. Don’t say it if- If you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Eddie’s voice was so earnest that Buck opened his eyes, “I mean every word.”

They stayed like that, just looking at each other, and Buck felt almost like it was a standoff, seeing who would break first.

“I don’t- I don’t know how to feel,” he finally said, pulling back from Eddie just slightly, so that he dropped his hands, “I still- I think I need to sleep, I can’t put anything together.”

“Are you sleeping down here?” Eddie looked critically at the blanket and throw pillow Buck had been using as a makeshift bed, “What’s wrong with the loft?”

“I can’t sleep up there,” he looked away from him, “Not that I can sleep much better down here either.”

“Just can’t sleep?” Eddie arched an eyebrow at him, “Or is it-”

“It’s you,” Buck said, nearly bitterly, “I keep dreaming about it. The shooting. Everything. I keep having to stop myself from calling you at three in the morning just to make sure you’re okay.”

There was a pause, one where Buck could practically see the wheels in Eddie’s brain turning, before he said,

“Then come home with me.”

“What?” Buck said loudly, sure he had misheard him.

“Come home with me,” he repeated, steadily, “You won’t have to check on me if we’re in the same bed.”

That strange feeling in his chest had vanished, replaced by something warm and blooming.

“You mean that?”

“Oh yeah, I definitely mean it,” he got to his feet, groaning slightly, and extended his hand to Buck, “What do you say? It’ll give Chris the thrill of his life when he wakes up to find you in the house.”

“Just Chris?” Buck fished tentatively, and Eddie laughed, leaning into his space, so that they were only an inch or so apart.

“Not just Chris,” he whispered, pressing his lips gently to Buck’s. He leaned into the kiss, pulling Eddie in closer, careful with his left side, ever aware of the bullet hole that had torn him apart and brought them together.

#buddie #my writing #911 #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #probably first of many lol #buddie fanfic

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ladybracknellssherry · 1 month ago

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docs mis-coded my tit-ectomy referral and i'm too tired to deal with it and the stress of not dealing with it is contributing to my tiredness.

and my fandom has gone pear shaped.

and i am about to have surgery for a tumor in my shoulder.

and i started having bad seizures again and imma spend a week in the hospital hooked up to machines while they induce seizures for funsies or smth.

and twice this week i had to chew a baby aspirin because i was having multiple heart palpitations over the course of multiple hours on multiple days.

and last week i took my first trip since 2020 and i legitimately thought i would die on the plane. the turbulence was bad and i was panicking and i prepared myself to die in a plane crash. and i spent a few days in a daze of recovering from that and convincing myself that i was, in fact, still alive.

and my adhd meds stopped working and i'm not getting any relief from them, just fucky side effects. but docs won't take me off of them or change any other meds until i do my in-hospital seizure party.

so, no.

no i haven't worked on my fics.

no i haven't done my little projects.

no i haven't done the dishes in days.

yes i've been eating like garbage.

yes i've been compulsively spending.

yes i am in a bad fucking mood.

any good news? it's been a year since they cut out 1/4 of my cervix and that all seems to be going fine. my baby niece likes me now and told her mums that she decided i'm supposed to live with her which is adorable. i got some new scrub and serums and my skin has never looked so fucking flawless. and i have a fandom meetup in two weeks if i'm not dead yet i guess.

#personal post #woe is me #adhd problems #epilepsy problems #chronic illness problems

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cuddlepilefics · 9 months ago

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Sleepy sickie + post-adrenaline puke

Fandom: P1Harmony

Sickie: Intak

Caregivers: hyung-line

@monthofsick

TW: emeto, fainting, real person fiction

No one’s POV.:

Comebacks were always rough but now that P1Harmony actually won on a show, the members were motivated to work even harder to get more wins under their belt. It didn’t matter how tired they were, the feeling of being cheered on by their fans made the exhaustion absolutely worth it. “What’s on your mind?”, Keeho asked softly, catching Intak’s attention. Furrowing his brows at the leader, Intak muttered: “You talking to me, hyung?” – “Who else would I be talking to? We’re the only two here”, Keeho retorted and the younger frantically looked around the room. He hadn’t noticed their friends leaving. Had he really been that spaced out? “So?”, the leader repeated, “What’s on your mind? You seem really deep in thought, especially if you didn’t even notice the others heading out.”

There was a moment of silence before Intak asked: “Can I be honest with you? There’s nothing on my mind. No thoughts, head empty. ‘m just so tired.” – “So you’ve been more or less asleep with your eyes open, huh?”, Keeho chuckled, passing the younger a bottle of water, “I get that. None of us has gotten nearly enough sleep lately. Try to stay hydrated and we’ll see if we can fit in a nap at any point of the day.” Obediently sipping half of the water, Intak closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He hadn’t been able to kick this headache for the past two days and it only seemed to be getting worse. Noticing his dongsaeng’s discomfort, Keeho hummed: “Headache?” The younger nodded and closed his eyes, resting his head in his hands. “Don’t worry, the others will bring back lunch when they return and I’m sure Taeyang will have some painkillers for you once you got something in your stomach”, the leader smiled, massaging Intak’s neck.

Grimacing, the boy slipped one hand under his shirt and weakly palmed at his middle. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to have something in his stomach. It had been a little unsettled for a while now but he knew how stress could lead to digestive problems, so he wasn’t too concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”, Taeyang asked as he placed the takeout bag onto the table. “Huh?”, Intak sleepily blinked up at the eldest, “Wha’?” – “I asked if you’re feeling okay”, Taeyang repeated, “You look pretty pale.” Sitting up, the rapper sighed: “Need sleep.” His words still came out a little slurred and he sluggishly scrubbed at his swollen eyes. “We all do”, Keeho muttered under his breath as he glanced at their maknaes tiredly piling onto a seat together.

After making sure their two youngest were eating, Jiung joined his hyungs in fussing over Intak. “Eat something”, Jiung hummed, placing a takeout box in front of the younger, “You’ll need the energy for the performance.” Though his appetite was almost non-existent but feeling pressured by his hyungs, he forced himself to eat, partly hoping he’d feel more alive once he had something in his system. Intak missed the hushed conversation between the two eldest but quietly thanked Taeyang when the older handed him a painkiller. Once the headache improved, he should be more functional.

That plan backfired badly and Intak found himself with a bad stomachache barely half an hour after his meal. He had already gotten his hair and makeup done, so he curled up on the couch and closed his eyes for a while. There was no way, he’d be able to take a nap though, the pain so intense he could barely breathe. His stomach groaned lowly, catching Jiung’s attention. “You good?”, the older whispered, heart breaking when the other shook his head. Releasing a slow breath, Intak mumbled: “The food isn’t settling at all.” – “No? What’s going on?”, Jiung worried, scooting over to feel his dongsaeng’s forehead, “You don’t have a fever, do you feel sick at all?” The younger slipped his hand under his shirt and rubbed his churning stomach, breathing: “It hurts like hell and I feel like I’m gonna puke.” – “Should we go to the bathroom?”, Jiung cooed, offering Intak a hand, “Come on, maybe you’ll feel better if you get it out.”

Intak panted as he bent over the toilet bowl, spitting into the undisturbed waters and watching the ripples. Standing behind his dongsaeng, Jiung rubbed the other’s back and winced when he felt his spine ripple. Intak’s eyes watered as he pitched forward with a harsh retch. Breaking into a strained coughing fit, the rapper hugged his middle tight as the pain increased tenfold. Intak sank into a crouch and heaved forcefully but couldn't bring anything up. Kneading the back of the rapper’s neck, Jiung offered: “Do you want me to get you some water? Might soothe your stomach or help you throw up.” – “Stay, please?”, Intak whimpered and shook his head, a fresh tear spilling down his pale cheek.

Jiung did stay, patiently rubbing Intak’s back as the younger heaved painfully. The rapper didn’t bring anything up though, only shredding his throat with unproductive retches as his stomach kept turning. Realizing that nothing would come from his attempts, Intak straightened back up and winced when his ears rang. With his vision darkening, he grabbed Jiung’s arms to steady himself, grateful when the older grabbed him to keep him from toppling over.

“You should have a couple of minutes to lay down and rest before we need to get on stage”, Jiung mused, walking Intak back to the couch, where the rapper promptly curled up, “Here, have some water first.” – “Hyung, I’m not sure that’s a good idea”, Intak moaned, palming his still upset stomach. He doubted it’d stay down. Turning to the younger, Keeho gasped in shock: “Woah, shit! What happened to your voice?!” Since the rapper looked so uncomfortable talking about it, Jiung replied softly: “Lunch wasn’t sitting so well and he’s feeling really sick to his stomach. He didn’t throw up yet but the dry heaves strained his throat badly.” – “You’re sick?”, Keeho frowned, feeling Intak’s forehead but he couldn’t detect a fever either. The younger didn’t reply, already knocked out.

“Poor kid”, Jiung whispered as he glanced at his sleeping dongsaeng, “He’s so exhausted, I think his body is lacking the energy to digest his meal. That might be why it's hurting him so much.” – “I’ll make sure he’ll be cleared from schedules for the remainder of the day”, Keeho promised, “Not sure I’ll be able to her him out of this performance though, since he didn’t throw up nor does he have a fever.” Jiung nodded grateful and went to find Taeyang to see if the older also had nausea medication, still praying his dongsaeng would have to perform. He couldn’t help beating himself up for saying that Intak hadn’t gotten sick yet. Though the rapper had tried so hard to be quiet, Jiung was sure at least some of the staff had heard him, so they could’ve easily lied but it was too late for that now.

Intak had a hard time waking up when Taeyang shook him just in time to quickly get his makeup retouched before having to go on stage. “You should drink a little more than that”, the eldest commented when Intak swallow the pill with only one tiny sip if water, “We wouldn’t want you passing out on stage.” – “No’ gonna pass ou’”, the rapper slurred, pushing the bottle away. Watching the interaction, Keeho wondered how the boy was going to rap his lines if he was too sleepy to pronounce such a simple sentence. Fighting down a sickly burp, Intak muttered under his breath: “More worried ‘bout pukin’ in front of everyone.” – “That’s not very reassuring”, Jiung chuckled sadly, also encouraging the other to have a few more sips.

They only had a few minutes left and Intak weakly slumped into Jiung’s side. “I cleared your schedule for the rest of the day, so you can catch up on some sleep soon. Your voice sounds wrecked, that’s why we’ll have you lipsync, just focus on dacing”, Keeho informed him quietly, “We’ll need you to stay awake a little longer though. Just get this performance over with and then you can rest.” The words barely made sense in Intak’s muddled brain but hearing their fans’ cheers already, the adrenaline woke him up just in time. Though he still felt incredibly shaky, he managed to put on a smile for their fans and forced his sore body to dance his heart out, temporarily forgetting the nausea licking at the back of his throat.

The members were stunned as they watched Intak dance. They wouldn’t have noticed him being unwell at all if they didn’t know. That was also why they startled when their friend crumpled, barely striking the ending pose before losing consciousness. With the camera focusing on their two maknaes as ending fairies, Keeho and Jiung quickly hoisted Intak off the floor and carried him backstage. Placing the rapper on the couch with a stack of cushions to elevate his legs, Jiung anxiously patted his dongsaeng’s pale cheeks, while a staff member fanned the boy with a stack of papers.

Intak was so unbelievably dizzy when he came to, his eyes still out of focus. With the adrenaline wearing off, the nausea returned with a vengeance, making him roll onto his side. Keeho managed to snatch a towel and hold it under Intak’s chin just in time for the rapper to gag up his nausea medicine. “You’re okay”, Jiung cooed and replaced the towel with a trash can, patting his dongsaeng’s back as he choked. Hurriedly removing the cushions, Keeho sat Intak up to help him breathe while the younger kept coughing. The leader placed the trash can between the rapper’s legs and winced when he threw up again. Intak barely managed to get a breath in before another large wave spilled from his lips. Rubbing slow, comforting circles on the rapper’s back, Jiung whispered: “Get it all out, your stomach will feel better afterwards.” – “You did so well”, Keeho praised, getting another towel that he wet with some cold water, draping ut across the back of his dongsaeng’s neck to ease his headache a little.

The rest of the members, joined them not much later, hearts aching when they found Intak sleepily curled up against Jiung’s side. It had taken a bit for the heaves to die down, his throat now burning from the strain. He couldn’t bring himself to drink anything, merely rinsing his mouth a couple of times to get rid of the vile taste. Now that the adrenaline was gone, Intak was zapped of all energy, finally breaking into tears after fighting so hard to keep it together. Seeing that he was probably done throwing up, Jiung opened his arms and inviting the rapper to cuddle into him. “It’s okay, you’re truly exhausted, huh?”, the older smiled sadly, scratching Intak’s scalp to soothe him. “Come on, put on your sweater”, Taeyang coaxed, “Sitting around in your sweaty stage outfit isn’t going to do you any good.”

It did need some convincing for Intak to move, unable to hold back a hoarse whimper at the pounding pain in his head. Taeyang stood in front of his dongsaeng, smoothing the shirt down his back while the younger sleepily rested his head against the other’s tummy. Cradling Intak’s head against his middle, the eldest promised: “We’ll get you to bed soon. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Hyungs will handle everything.” The rapper trembled, silent tears soaking into Taeyang’s shirt. It had been a while since he had last felt this miserable. The room seemed to be spinning at irregular speeds but his hyung’s arms kept him grounded. “Hyung, we grabbed you some tea”, Jongseob hummed, carrying a paper cup. Seeing that Intak wasn’t yet able to stomach anything and his hands were too shake, the maknae gave it to Taeyang to hold onto for the time being.

Intak was slowly drifting off against Taeyang, while the others got ready to leave. Before he could fall asleep though, the eldest had him sip some of the tea and they were relieved that it soothed both, his throat and his stomach. Shota came to remove Intak’s smeared makeup, while Taeyang freshened up too and the they were off. The rapper fell asleep against Jiung as they drove him back to the dorm, so he could rest. “Fee’ sick ‘gain”, Intak slurred when they pulled up to the building, only half awake. Cursing under his breath, Keeho got out and opened the door for the younger who didn’t even get to unbuckle his seatbelt before leaning out of the car, retching onto the pavement. Since Intak didn’t have much left in him, the spell was over once he heaved up a few mouthful of acid and Jiung unbuckled his seatbelt for him.

With how dizzy he was, it was hard to get Intak out of the car without him falling over but they eventually had him stumbling along between Keeho and Jiung, who prayed their dongsaeng would make it up to his room without anymore incidents because he already looked about to faint again. Taeyang rushed to removed the boy’s shoes but by the time they sat him down on his bed, he was ghostly pale anyway. Resting his hands on his dongsaeng’s shoulders, Keeho eased the boy down and shushed: “Breathe through the dizziness. We’re here now, you won’t have to move anytime soon.” – “Hyung, ‘m so tired”, Intak whimpered, draping his arm over his face as he waited for the dark spots to fade. “We know”, the leader sighed, running his hand through the rapper’s hair, “You did so well though. I’m really proud of you.”

Sadly, they could only get Intak cleared of his schedule, so there was no one who could stay with him. That’s why Jiung set him up with a bucket next to his bed, while Shota and Jongseob went through their snack cabinet and picked out some saltine crackers and pretzels. Taeyang brought a bottle of water and a sports drink, placing them on Intak’s nightstand next to the snacks their maknaes brought. “We’ll have to leave soon but you should try to get some fluids and electrolytes in as soon as your stomach settles down. There’s some stuff on your nightstand, anything particular you want us to get you before we leave?”, the eldest hummed, receiving a shake of the head, “You got your phone, so if you need anything, give us a call. Try to catch up on some sleep, okay? See you tonight.”

Finally having permission to rest, Intak was out before the door had even closed behind his friends.

#fanfic #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #sickfic #sick #emeto #tw emeto #tw rpf #p1harmony #novemetober

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marimayscarlett · 1 year ago

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I wonder what kind of costume change we'll be gifted with next summer now that the chicken coat is no more.

Would be fun to see a complete style overhaul for all of them for the new era, but since it's a continuation of the tour, I doubt we will.

Hi!!

I think this is a topic which actually is on a lot of minds throughout the fandom - especially since the chicken coat supposedly found his place for retirement in the Rammstein museum. As it should, it really did a good job and looks like it needs time to rest 👀

I agree with you that new outfits and styles for the whole band would be nice, but I think that either some parts of their wardrobe will be overhauled or maybe some outfits make a come back, which weren't used much or were worn a longer time ago (that's just wishful thinking on my part I guess). I'm especially thinking about the following (plus incudling some thoughts what would fit some of them concerning new outfits, at least imho):

Schneider's really comfortable looking, kind of yoga-suit from this year. He looks so good and relaxed in it, would be nice to see it again 🤍 Anything more lose-fitting or maybe some kind of cape would be really cool to see on him.

picture credit: @iinchicore

Paul's red snake suit (worn in 2019 I think), I really liked the color shade of it and the matching boots! In general would just wish for a little bit more color on him next year - maybe red or something completely different, just something else than the grey suit would be neat.

Regarding Olli, I just really wish for anything which makes him more visible on stage - please no more all black outfits and makeup 🙏 The stage make up from 2022 was absolutely amazing and so unique (thanks to @wizzardclown who reminded me of this!):

picture credit: @derwahnsinn

or Olli in red, which made him visible and made him look pretty arcane in a mystical way:

picture credit: Suzanne Mannifield

With Flake, I really want to see something other than a sparkly suit on him. I know it's his signature look currently and for the last few years, but this guy deserves a different look I think. Maybe something like the various medical scrubs he wore, I really dig this look:

But make it more refined and whimsical. (Funnily enough, even Willy Wonka popped into my head when I thought about potential Flake outfits, please don't ask me what's happening in my brain again)

I'm not the biggest fan of Till's outfits in general, but I liked the style and cut of the snake suit very much! But please, another material would be nice.

My favourite outift of Till will always be the one from Völkerball, it's really unmatched and fits him quite well.

Now, for Richard I have three very defined wishes.

1. The most realistic wish probably: I DEMAND that the vampire coat HAS to stay. This outfit keeps me alive, is the air that I breath and how he lives rent free in my head:

picture credits: @sechsherzen

2. If the vampire coat has to go (god forbid) or a new coat is entering the scene, something studded like this one I'd love:

(My second favourite after the vampire coat)

3. Bring back the Michael Jackson-esque leg belt thing, this was such a look. Would look exceptionally good in combination with his coat:

A kind of chaotic list and these are just my thoughts and opinions 🤍 Now I'm even more excited to see what kind of gems the future tour will bring us style-wise ✨

#Rammstein #rambling over fashion yet again eventhough i know nothing about it #really tried to stay at least a bit realistic #will definitely make a post about with outfit wishes which will have zero chance to come true #just because i can #ask #thank you for this ask!#stage outfits #stage fashion #rammstein tour 2024 #richard kruspe #paul landers #till lindemann #christoph schneider #flake lorenz #oliver riedel

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emerdoodls · 5 months ago

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hi tuc fandom literally months ago i was trying to create a like?? no underland au of tuc (the underland doesn't exist, the regalians are just lowkey a doomsday cult that sandwich started)

anyways i gave up immediately bc i couldn't decide what to do with gregor. this au exists purely bc i wanna draw nerissa in fun normal outfits and howard in silly scrubs, btw but basically luxa and gregor are college age (around 18 or 19), so lizzie and hazard are like middle/early high school age and boots is late/mid elementary school, and nerissa and howard are both towards the end of their degrees, early-mid 20s?? idk specific ages but those age gaps feel mostly correct bc for some reason i think theres four years between gregor and lizzie?? basically everything's the same except gregor and boots don't fall down that shaft in the laundry room bc it doesn't exist, but their dad still disappeared, im debating on why?? like the most logical situation i can come up with for him to be similarly traumatized would be if a serial killer got him and just kept him alive to help him make stuff (a la the gnawers in book 1) but idk.

the important part of all this is that idk what to do with gregor, so here are the three thoughts i had:

he's in college on either an academic or athletic scholarship and working a job to help his family

he's working two jobs to raise money for college in a year or two, and to help his family out financially

he's working one job and taking community college classes so that he can skip all his gen eds when he transfers to a non community college

i just feel like he's the type of person to want to help his mom out financially esp in a world where he's not extra traumatized yk?? so opinions? other ideas??

#the underland chronicles #gregor tuc #tuc au #gregor cambell #is this just stupid?? you can tell me that too #rambles #gregor the overlander #this idea has lived in my head for years but since i can't figure out logistics i haven't done much with it #gregor just has too much eldest daughter syndrome not to feel obligated to help out financially i feel #so yeah just lmk pls #darn it suzanne #edited to be more clear bc i was being confusing sorry

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akaanade · 3 months ago

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PAIRING: Crosshair x Fem! Reader

SUMMARY: Crosshair must reach into a dark place to rescue from a group of pirates who captured you during a mission. But you show him there's always a way out of it.

LYRIC: "Tell me it's alright/Give me the green light." - 5 Seconds of Summer

WORDS: 4.7K

WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, and Swearing

This story is dedicated to @intricatechaosofyou as part of the Clone x Reader Song Fic Exchange.

I am profoundly sorry about how late this is. I had a stressful month due to a cardiac issue, which has been resolved now, and I didn't realize how long it would take to tell the story I wanted to tell. As a result, I wrote this as fast as I could. It's not my best work, and I'm still getting used to writing for the Clone fandom, but the ending is fluffy.

It was an honor writing for you, and I beg your forgiveness for the delay.

@callsign-denmark @jedi-princess-kestis @cloneficgiftexchange

Idanus’s dual moons shined high in the Outer Rim’s azure night sky amongst an endless sea of twinkling stars. The verdant branches of the planet’s montane forests danced in a temperate breeze, causing water beads from a recent rainstorm to slide from the glistening leaves and drip into the muddy underbrush below amidst an aroma of petrichor. Despite being nighttime, a chorus of nocturnal creatures performed a soft melody of buzzing and croaking throughout the scrub as they socialized and foraged for food.

An abandoned Republic intelligence base stood in a sprawling meadow against the idyllic scenery of herbage and mountain ranges. Nature had long since begun to reclaim her rightful lands from the behemoth, spreading greenery across the rusted grey walls with an eerie beauty. A lone red scroll from Clone Wars, bearing the torn visage of a black Galactic roundel, hung adjacent to one of the base’s entrances, the final thread of a tragic past. Yet, the square turquoise lights decorating the installation’s facade continued to flicker, meaning someone reactivated the power after years of activity.”

Several pirates dressed in discordant, makeshift armor stood guard in the staging grounds with DC-15 rifles resting against their shoulders, probably burgled from the armory. They conversed under the watchful eye of a rival sniper lying prone on the roof. He scanned the jungle horizon from a provisional nest constructed from plywood, searching for any hungry predators who caught a taste for unwashed humans. Little did they know, a much more dangerous and unprecedented hunter watched them like prey above an overlook.

A scowl appeared on the sniper’s scarred face as he noticed brush moving on the cliffside through his night scope. “What the kriff was that?” he grumbled as he switched to thermal imaging and returned his eye to the lens. He hoped to pick up the heat signature of a small harmless rodent who emerged from its underground burrow and scampered around the precipice. Instead, the scope detected the tall, lithe frame of a fellow marksperson flat upon the ground with their crosshairs fixated on the base. The pirate scrambled to his feet and activated his communicator, yelling, “Hey, we have a problem out here! There’s another sniper across the cany-”

“Nest, could you restate that?” buzzed the person on the other side of the radio. But his crewmate could only manage an anguished groan as he released his rifle and fell forward deceased. A miniature burn hole sizzled with tibanna residue in the back of his skull, the characteristic entry wound of the 773 Firepuncher. Startled by the response, the crewmate bellowed, “Nest, do you you copy?! Nest!”

Crosshair chuckled as he rose to his knees and tapped the side of his helmet to access their communication frequency. “What’s the matter? Did someone lose their sniper?”

“What? Who are you? How the kriff did you access our comms?” the perplexed pirate said.

“It doesn’t matter because none of you will be alive to tell the tale.”

“Are you threatening us?”

“I don’t make threats. I make promises, especially when a bunch of bandits steal someone precious to me.”

“Screw you and your girl!”

“Let this be your first and final warning. Run while you can because when I come down there, I will hunt you like the cowardly little rats you are…” Crosshair stated as he returned his eye to his scope, watching the frantic pirates as they fled back into their hovel. They pointed their carbines in all directions as they backed towards the door, desperate to find and incapacitate Crosshair. After some time, the group reached the base’s gargantuan metal doors and scrambled inside, closing them with a thud. “...and eliminate every one of you.”

A Klaxon blared in the background as the line went dead. “Let the games begin!” Crosshair announced, standing and looking across the ravine.

His gaze followed the seemingly endless cragged escarpment as it fell several hundred feet until it met a thin cerulean creek. Straining, he could almost see the whitewater from the violent rapids splashing against the boulder jutting out from the water. Crosshair returned his attention to the base and shook his head, attempting to eliminate his vertigo. He couldn’t risk jumping several hundred feet without the team here, but neither could the pirates or the Republic analysts who once called this place home.

There had to be some way across the chasm.

Suddenly, the soft chord of an engine’s roar appeared in the background of the verdure’s orchestra. Crosshair lifted his reticle again and espied a pair of massive in-groud doors opening to receive the inbound vessel. It was less than a klick away and approaching fast based on its dynamics, meaning Crosshair would only have one shot at accessing the base as he loaded an adhesive grapple and aimed it at the starry sky.

His knuckles tightened around the gun’s handle, holding his breath as he waited for the cruiser to zoom past. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, almost as if it was urging the ship to hurry the fuck up. As the minutes ticked away, a torrent of thoughts ravaged his mind over what would happen if he couldn’t get there swiftly. Crosshair attempted to assuage the pain spreading through his bones that you were a talented mercenary who could get out of almost anything. However, the past year taught him that skill sometimes does not displace luck. Images of finding your corpse in the middle of the base, executed for being dead weight, taunted his psyche. He didn’t know what he would do or say if he returned to Pabu with your body for burial.

The ship’s engine crescendoed until a Z-95 appeared against the firmament. Crosshair pressed the trigger, launching the adhesive toward an opening section of the ship’s dirty red and white chassis. It stuck and lifted Crosshair into the air as he retracted and tightened the line. As planned, the Z-95 carried him across the gorge’s breadth toward the gaping metal maw. Crosshair lifted his head as the ship stalled its engines, preparing to land. Sirens across the hangar illuminated the room red and blared at each other like a pack of ice vultures fighting over carrion. However, aside from the pilot, there appeared to be no one else in the vicinity, giving Crosshair ample opportunity to begin his rampage.

The pilot landed on the pad in the center of the room and quickly unbuckled his belt before grabbing his gun. Crosshair shifted his weight, moving closer to the ship’s edge to see better the impromptu chauffeur racing down the exit ramp. Like the others, he wore mismatched armor, most likely pieces stolen from his victims. However, aside from a knife attached to the outside of his thigh, he didn’t seem to have any other weaponry. The man ran to a console on the other side of the room, speaking into his intercom to get an update from the crew.

Crosshair loaded several armor-piercing bolts and fired at the tarnished metal plate protecting the corsair’s torso. A smile crept across his face as his target crumbled to the ground, unmoving. He stowed his rifle and crawled out from underneath the cockpit, resembling a spider who caught a fly in its web. On and off, and on and off, went the hangar’s red siren lights as Crosshair stalked towards his paralyzed prey.

The frightened pirate whimpered, watching his mysterious hunter with wide eyes. “Please don’t hurt me. I don’t know what you want. But I will give you anything, anything you could want. Please, just let me go,” he sputtered.

“Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Please don’t tell me that kriffing nerf-herder is in the base!” pleaded a horrified crewmate over the mounted console’s comms.

Crosshair circled the incapacitated desperado lying on the floor, not shifting his gaze as he wandered over the terminal and pushed its green PTT button. “Tick, tock, tick, tock!” he hissed. “Also, don’t worry about your friend. We’re going to play a little game, which will be a blast.”

As he finished his sentence, a shot whipped past Crosshair’s head, leaving a burn spot on the enormous automatic doors sealing both him and the pilot in the hangar. But Crosshair didn’t flinch and instead coldly glanced over his shoulder to the pirate, who held a blaster in his trembling hand. The man moved the gun back and forth, in a final attempt to escape the encounter alive but could not find an efficient target on the angel of death before him. Crosshair crooked his head, standing frozen and watching, taunting the sobbing bandit. He permitted several more minutes of sniveling and pathetic invocations before pouncing on the man’s hand and twisting his wrist.

“Drop it. Drop it now before you wind up with a broken hand and a bullet through the skull,” Crosshair growled, applying more pressure to the man’s wrist. After some time, the bandit’s finger unfurled from the handle and trigger, allowing the blaster to fall with a clatter. A satisfied Crosshair pushed the firearm to the other side of the room before kneeling on the man’s arm to prevent him from doing anything foolish.

He watched as the bandit struggled to free his arm, like a rat caught in a trap, before continuing, “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Here’s what will happen. I meant what I said when I would hunt all of you down. But you, you little cretin, are helpful for now. Thanks to your friends, this whole base is in lockdown. The good news is that all Republic bases have a door code allowing the officers to travel freely between the halls. I know you know it because I heard you asking for it from your friend. Tell me it and your death will be clean.”

However, the man only responded with a gulp and some snuffles, staring at Crosshair with tear-filled eyes. “What’s the matter? Does a Loth-cat have your tongue? Well, maybe a little paint will loosen it,” Crosshair said as he grabbed the man’s knife and drove it into drive into his bicep. A torment cry fell from the bandit’s lips as he attempted to pry his arm away more vigorously, but the activity only caused more of his blood to seep out from his armor. “You’re bleeding pretty heavily. This is your last chance. Tell me the code before I bleed you dry.”

“It’s 192225! 192225!” the guy shouted in desperation.

“Are you lying?”

“No, I ain’t lying. It’s 192225 after 19 BBY, the year the Empire decommissioned this base.”

Crosshair rose to his feet, leaving the knife in the man’s arm, and said with a click of his tongue, “How touching and do not move the knife. I need you alive for a few more moments.” He typed the code into the console, causing the hangar doors to part. “Well, it appears some of you bandits are truthful after all. I appreciate your honesty. Pleasant dreams.”

Crosshair fired a blast into the man’s head, causing it to fall back onto the floor with a burning hole. His eyes shifted to the knife, still embedded in his arm, reflecting the forming blood pool on the mirror of the blade. “I will also take your knife. Aberrantium is hard to come by now that the Empire has depleted almost all of the mines,” he stated, removing the dagger and painting his chest plate with blood.

Leaving the corpse to exsanguinate in the landing dock, he stepped out into the hallway and turned his attention to the resounding sirens. He had no reason to be silent as he detached and stowed his silencer. The last thing these assholes will hear is their screams echoing through the base would be the roar of the Firepuncher, and screams of horror as the syndicate falls.

And that is precisely what Crosshair did.

He walked the ghostly halls, only giving the bandits a brief look at his deadly mien before striking the darkness. Blaster fire erupted as the pirates did their best to stay alive, but it was too late as Crosshair dodged their bolts with balletic precision and transformed the base into a killing ground. One by one, bodies fell upon the ground as anything and everything in their maelstrom’s path became a weapon, from an unassuming shard of glass to one of the stolen DC-15s. A metallic fetor soon permeated the air as Crosshair continued his rampage, staining the walls red.

A xenohistorian, several millenniums in the future, would eventually stumble upon the

base and wonder what monster caused the carnage. Little did they know that the brute was a passionate man trying to get back one of the few people in the Universe who loved him past his flaws.

“There you are, you bastard!” the pirate said as Crosshair opened the doors to the inner warm room. He tightened the grip his forearm had around your neck and dug the barrel of his blaster into your temple, dragging you further into the room.

“You’re going the wrong way,” Crosshair derided, stepping into the room.

“It doesn’t matter because I’ll take you down myself.”

Crosshair held up his knife perpendicular to his helmet, a testament to his strength and skill. “Do you see this? This is all that remains of your crew. What makes you think that you’re any different?”

The captain stood there in silence, watching the vitality of his people drip from the tip with a steady rhythm. He tried to retain his stoic facade as he shifted his body and grip on you. But he couldn’t hide the minute tremors in his shooting hand or beads of sweat forming on his forehead. With each passing moment, it became more apparent that there was no way out for him without releasing you. He shifted his gaze between Crosshair, who had now lowered his dagger, and you. “Fine. If that’s how you want to play!”

“Hey, asshole! Do you want to play a game?” you blurted out before he could pull the trigger.

“A game?”

“Yeah, a game. Have you ever played Red Light, Green Light?”

“What that kriff is that?”

“Come on, just humor me as a last request,” you teased, moving your head to rest your chin on his forearm and creating space between him and your larynx.

“Alright, fine. How do you play?”

“It’s easy. All you have to do is reply ‘green light’ after you say ‘red light.’ Ready?”

The captain furrowed his brow but affirmed with a not.

“Red light!”

“Uh, green light?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Crosshair launched the knife by its tip. It flew across the room and wedged into the captain’s skull between his eyebrows. He let out a gurgle as a rivulet ran down his nose from the wound before loosening his grip around you and falling backward.

You and Crosshair watched the body briefly before he looked at you. “What were you thinking? How could you be so stupid as to run off without telling anyone?” he finally said. “It’s good that I planted a tracker on your suit.”

You blinked several times, and your mouth fell agape at his words because of his tone and the revelation that you had a tracker somewhere on your person. You spun in a circle, searching every crevice of your suit until your elegant fingers ran over an inconspicuous bump in your underarmor’s sleeve. At first, you thought it was just a normal tear from being kept by a pirate crew for the past few hours. However, upon further inspection, something rigid and circular embedded into the suit fabric formed the bump.

“How did you get it in there?” you questioned with a scowl.

“One of the Pabu seamstresses helped sew in it.”

Your gaze softened, and you turned your head to your sleeve. You had no reason to be mad at Crosshair. When Fennec Shand contacted you about a lead on a job, you disappeared into the night without telling Crosshair or the rest of Clone Force 99 where you went. It was stupid, yes. But at the time, you thought you were protecting them because you were always wary of mercenaries. Pabu had been through enough over the past year, and the last thing you wanted was to bring them more trouble due to a job gone awry.

You returned your attention to Crosshair, who characteristically loured at you with his arms crossed. He remained surly and reticent even after he departed from the Empire and sometimes still stewed in his emotions when angry. However, underneath his withdrawn shell, there was a kind and selfless man if you dug long and hard enough. The blood spots on his armor attested to that. He just needed someone patient enough to wait for him until he was safe to express his emotions.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile after a few moments.

Crosshair furrowed his brow in confusion and straightened his back, clearly not expecting your gratitude. He assumed you would get mad at him for planting an unknown tracker in your suit, telling him that you didn’t need his help to stay safe. You had always been headstrong that way. But perhaps that was what endeared you to him, enough to make him travel across the stars to some backwater mercenary haven in the Outer Rim.

Back on the island, he would have to sneak into a nearby alleyway to prevent anyone from seeing him smile. The Force knows that Hunter and Wrecker would not let him live it down if they caught him joyful over something. However, he would always be nearby, watching you from the shadows. He studied your smile and memorized the intonation of your laugh as you played with the Pabu children along the shoreline.

The two of you shared a similar story: Imperial agents who left the Empire for a better life. Of course, your story didn’t have nearly as many trials and tribulations as his. You were an Imperial tactician sent to oversee the stormtroopers accompanying CX-2 in his mission to recover Omega. However, after the unwarranted destruction of Kamino, the decimation of Pabu flipped the switch on light flickering in your heart for a long time. The Empire never cared about its citizens and never would. As a result, you set your ship to self-destruct and jump off on the island’s sandy shores.

Given your past, it took some time for Pabu’s citizens to accept you. But as you helped the settlement rebuild, you started ingratiating yourself into society until everyone trusted you except Crosshair. He’d frown at you, never speaking, almost as if he used you as a catharsis for the pain he suffered at the hands of both of your former employers.

But your tactical training taught you therein lay the answer. Whatever happened to Crosshair still pained him.

While the rest of Clone Force 99 began to move on from their harrowing journey, Crosshair remained imprisoned in his cell. He continued to be irritable and withdrawn despite being reunited with his brothers and having autonomy over his life. Omega’s meditation techniques had created cracks in his proverbial prison. However, it would take someone who truly knew the brutality of the Empire, someone like you, to free him from his mind.

After weeks of trying, he initially relented because you were the only one who recognized that his pain didn’t end when Hemlock’s body fell off the bridge. However, minuscule changes began to appear whenever he was around you: a smile here and a gentle touch there. Now, he transversed half of the Outer Rim to rescue you from a backwater mercenary haven and murdered an entire base of people, a morbid but admirable goal.

Crosshair closed the gap between you and took your hands in his. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

“Me too!” you replied, smiling and studying his angular features. “Now, let’s get back to Pabu. Omega will be expecting us for the summer festival.”

“Do we have to?” an annoyed Crosshair grumbled as you pulled his hand, leading him past his victims back to the hangar.

“You made a promise that you would be there.”

“I just fought an entire pirate crew. Can I not have a few moments of rest?” “We still have to make it off of Idanus. You can rest when we get back to the island.”

Pabu’s sun shimmered high in the azure sky, reflecting against the calm waves lapping against the sand. Avian creatures soared on the warm winds filling the tropical air, signing their gentle melody. Meanwhile, a pack of mischievous moonyos stole several pieces of fruit from bowls laid out by the residents before climbing back to their trees in Upper Pabu.

Due to the island’s small size and contiguous buildings, there wasn’t much room for expansive farms. But survivors adapt, after all. The residents scoured the Archium’s tomes, holding the secrets of the island’s ancient residents, searching for anything to assist their horticulture. To their joy, they found diagrams of farmers from a bygone era using hatcheries, vertical farming, and aquaculture to produce crops and marine resources to sustain themselves. They set about recreating the techniques described in the diagrams, constructing large poles for climbing vines and vast nests to capture fish and other wildlife.

The crop never yielded much, only enough to sate the island residents. Whatever surplus they received, if any harvest, got shipped off-world to help make little money for the supplies the island could not provide. As a result, whenever a good summer crop, the island residents tried to give back to the earth by hosting a summer festival to bring the community together. They used a portion of their production to cook enough dishes to make even a glutton like Wrecker sick and hung green lights around the settlement to signify growth and inspire the elements to bring them a good harvest in the fall.

The people sang and danced in the square, enjoying each other’s company. That is, all except for one. Crosshair was never one for soirees and gaiety. But in the interest of trying to put his past behind him, the two of you always kept proximity to the activities Today, however, he was gone, like a sylph. You searched Upper and Lower Pabu, from the beaches to the home the two of you shared with the rest of the Bad Batch, and found no sign of him.

Where could he have gone?

You sighed and placed your elbows on a half wall, looking out into the endless ocean as you restrategized and thought of any new places to search. Below, you could see Omega laughing and kicking a ball with a few children from below. A smile appeared on your face as you watched her finally receive the chance to be a kid. Though you had only known each other for a few months, you learned from the stories told by Hunter and the rest that she had a difficult life from the moment she left Kamino. Yet, no one would ever think twice about trying to leave her with the Lawquanes again. Her story, while arduous, made her and the Bad Batch who they are today. Nevertheless, it was nice to see her being a child for once instead of dealing with adult issues.

That’s when it hit you: the cove.

Since returning from Weyland, the cove underneath Lower Pabu had become a makeshift sanctuary for the group. The way nature carved the grotto permitted one to contemplate one's life under the comfort of shade and amongst the calming breezes and splashes of the sea. You grabbed a faint purple fruit shaped like a small melon, beloved by a particular sniper for its sweetness, from a nearby table before following the grand stairs down to the shore.

Cautiously, you jumped from rock to rock until you reached the archway to the oasis. You looked around at the beautiful decorations, surprised that a group of men who spent most of their time in frigid, austere military bases would have such an idea for detail. They scattered vibrant flowers throughout the area, complementing the pile of pillows and blankets in the middle. Against a wall, Tech's carved effigy stood as part of a small memorial decorated with little trinkets. The Bad Bad had a precious habit of collecting small items they thought Tech would like during their travels and placing him at his shrine to keep his memory alive. You smiled as you picture Tech’s spirit wandering around and talking to himself about the history and minutiae of the objects.

Near the sea cliff, a familiar person sat in meditation. He replaced his dark grey armor with a simple short-sleeved white tunic and tan pants, but he kept his Firepuncher by his side out of nervous habit. His remaining hand rested on his knee, just as Omega taught him, as he relaxed amongst the waves' soothing sounds and the sea salt aroma. You sat next to him and placed the fruit in his open palm, causing him to grimace at the sudden sensation of the fruit’s leathery skin. He played with it in his hand for a moment before opening his chocolate eyes to look at the vegetation.

“You’re missing the party,” you commented, gathering his attention.

“I don’t like people,” Crosshair retorted, placing the fruit in his lap.

“I know, but you’re usually not this secluded. I can typically find you somewhere in the settlement, not out here, which means you have something on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?”

A frown appeared on Crosshair’s face as he watched the green rays swimming around the estuaries. As if like clockwork, his hand left hand began to flex, mimicking the right one before he lost it during the Seige of Tanttis. It was a nervous tick he had whenever he was thinking about his time with the Empire, one that you knew all too well. You took his hand in yours, running a gentle thumb over the back while you waited for him to find the words he searched for.

After a few minutes, Crosshair lifted his head and sighed. “I keep thinking back to Idanus about how I promised never to use that training again. It reminds me of how close I came to becoming a monster and how things could be so different. I know that’s false, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You’re right. It’s not true because you’re not a monster,” you responded. “You’re Crosshair. Sure, you can be gloomy and a bit dark at times. But that’s part of your charm. There is a man worth loving under all that gibe, and I think allowing people inside has worked out for you so far.”

Crosshair turned his head to meet your warm smile and gaze. There was a glimmer of something unknown in his eyes. It wasn't anger or disdain but warm and inviting, as if the words you had told him so many times before had finally begun to affect him. Before you could even respond, he planted a peck on your cheek so fast that you almost missed it. You raised your hand to the spot where he kissed you and focused on a stalactite reaching down from the top, trying to stop your heart from racing. There was no mistaking. Crosshair, who seldom shared his feelings with anyone, had kissed you.

“If you tell anyone I did that, I will kill you,” he stated as he broke apart the fruit and handed a piece to you.

“That assumes you can touch me,” you responded, accepting the fruit and planting a more significant kiss on recoiling Crosshair’s cheek.

“You’re good, but you’re not good.”

“Excuse me, I have taken down several soldiers in my time.”

“From the safety of an Imperial strategy room, maybe. But I have taken down far more than that in hand-to-hand combat.”

You gave Crosshair a playful jab in the ribs as you sat in the cove, having your tête-à-tête while the others danced above you.

Peace, albeit temporary, had returned to the Bad Batch once more.

#star wars #the bad batch #crosshair

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! 🫐 What’s your favorite underrated thing in your fandom? (A ship that only you seem to write for, a character there’s almost no fics about, a trope that criminally hasn’t been written yet, etc.)

hi! thank you for the ask ^_^

i think the biggest thing that i feel is underrated that i love outside of some malec stuff, is team immortal.

i adore cat and ragnor and magnus and i think that they have some incredibly tight bonds. but because ragnor died there isn't much about him out there and i love reading when he is alive but i always want more

i think the biggest thing is pretending that there isn't a magical ward at the hospital because you cannot have obscenely rich warlocks interested in healing not fund and help get a magical ward in the hospital they work at.

like you know magnus and ragnor were bored one week while cat was complaining about being unable to safely take care of a warlock child with colic because of the magic and the next day there was a mysterious donation, a rather reclusive old englishman got involved and suddenly, there is an extra, super secret ward.

everyone thinks that it's for like politicians, crime lords, people who have a lot of money and want privacy meawhile in the ward:

cat: take the medicine and stop turning my scrubs green

baby warlock hiccuping with colic: k *cat's scrubs turn and stay searing neon orange*

also there is a giant lack of shifter au's, daemon aus, sentinel/guide aus, small magic aus, etc and i loveeeee all of those things

the shadowworld is magical and there is so little exploring the more magical side of the world and all these hidden realms that mundanes can't and dont know about and i just am so invested in exploring that and adding my own stuff

NEPHILIM ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE SPECIAL ABILITIES THE LD BLOODLINES BUT WE ONLY SEE IT IN CLARY. who then has extra special stuff because of her angel blood

also has no one considered that Helen also might have double angel blood? we don't know how her genetics work and gentics are weird. she could have angel/angel blood instead of angel/demon blood because she certainly isn't angel/human.

and eldritch nephilim/warlocks who have greater demn blood

eldritch is so underrated and i adore it so much!!

<3 lumine

#lumine talks to ppl #lumine answers asks

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slusheeduck · 1 year ago

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Fictober 2023 Day 9 - Prompt: "I may not get another chance to say this." Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

This was…presumptuous, at best. Nosy, at worst. And honestly, entirely not within his right, considering the current time frame. But damn it all, if this tadpole in his head didn’t take him out first, the orb in his chest would, so there really was no time like the present for Gale to do this, because there may not be much more of that left.

So, a few minutes after hearing Astarion’s drawled out, “Hello, beautiful,” and about thirty seconds after seeing Falerin walk away to go chat with Karlach, he took a deep breath, then made his way to Astarion’s tent.

“Could we…chat, Astarion?” he asked slowly, hands clasped behind his back. Astarion glanced back at him over his shoulder, eyebrows raising.

“I would ask if you were going to show me a bit of magic, but it sounds more like I’m about to get a lecture,” he said, corner of his lip quirking up in amusement. “But I suppose we could.”

Gale glanced about. “Let’s…walk. Less chance of being overheard.”

“Oh, now I’m very interested.”

Gale rolled his eyes. “Don’t get so excited. It’s bad enough with the tadpoles, but everyone here’s an eavesdropper, too.”

“Speaking from experience?” The knowing smile Astarion sent his way made Gale wince, and suddenly he was second-guessing this whole affair. It was none of his business. But it was. But it wasn’t. But…

“Look, I may not get another chance to say this,” he said quickly, pushing through the doubts. “There’s…yes, we saved the Grove and that was worth celebrating, but it’s far from the end of the road for us. And if things do get more difficult, then I want to say…”

Astarion’s eyes widened, and he paused by the shoreline. “Oh my. Is this a confession, Gale?” he asked, a cruel little smile already spreading across his face as he fanned himself. “Oh, this is all so sudden!”

“Will you stop it?” Gale snapped. “It’s about Falerin.”

That caused a shift in Astarion’s face. His hand delicately rested against his mouth, eyes narrowing. “What about Falerin?”

Gale hesitated, eyes darting between Astarion and the dying dusk over the water. “You look at him like you’re going to eat him alive.”

“Well, I mean…”

“Not in terms of your unusual diet.” Gale let out a long sigh, hand scrubbing at his face. “This is presumptuous of me, I know. We’ve both known him the same amount of time, give or take fifteen minutes, and as far as stressors go, this one should be much lower on the list. But he’s my friend, Astarion. Probably the best I’ve had since Mystra…” He sighed, dragging his hand down his face. “The point is, I’m worried you’re toying with him like…like my cat does a pigeon she’s about to tear to pieces.”

Astarion, who had stayed remarkably quiet, suddenly scoffed. “Darling, who do you think I am?”

Gale grimaced. “Please. I know he cares about you—it’s practically bursting out of every pore in his face. And I’m…I’m not trying to intimidate or scare you off, I swear. I just…some assurance, please, that you’re not going to hurt him.”

Astarion’s face had shifted into something unreadable—not scathing, not mocking, not sneaking. His gaze flitted over Gale’s face, searching for a lie.

“I’m not planning to hurt him,” he said, voice soft. “I can’t promise I won’t; I know the kind of person I am. But…I won’t toy with him.”

Gale should have been embarrassed with the obvious sigh of relief he let out, but he really wasn’t. He dropped down on a nearby rock, shaking his head. “I really should have gotten out more before this. I’ve forgotten how difficult talks like this are.” He let out another breath, then looked up at Astarion. “I haven’t been as kind to you as I should have, but I’d like to be in the future. I’d like to think that Fal would be upset if either of us left camp due to a spat.” He waved his hand. “So, any time you’d like to talk, feel free. Or…don’t. Ball is entirely in your court.”

Astarion’s mouth twitched up. “Oh, how very generous of you.” He paused for a moment, looking out at the water, then—very slowly, like he was approaching some dangerous creature—he sat down on the fallen log beside Gale. “So you…have a cat?”

Gale’s brow furrowed as he looked over at him. “Well, technically she’s a tressym, but yes.” He gave a wry smile. “Stereotypical, I know—lonely wizard in his tower with just his cat for company. Feel free to tease me about it; Tara certainly does.”

“No, no, I…” Astarion glanced over at him. “I’ve always been fond of cats. See a lot of myself in them, I suppose. Obviously having one’s always been out of the question, but…” He shrugged. “Maybe you could tell me about yours.”

Gale looked Astarion over, unable to stop the way his mouth pulled up. He knew a peace offering when he saw one. “I would be more than happy to.”

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

#fictober23 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #gale of waterdeep #My bloodweave is probably showing here but I don't carrrre #Also unrelated but the most unrealistic thing of BG3 is the fact that the entire party isn't IMMEDIATELY cooing over Tara when she shows up #This man would be sharing cat pics in the Discord 3 times a day

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ohgodimafraud · 8 months ago

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the thing that would not leave (t/diapt)

fandom: t/he d/evil is a part timer

characters: u/rushihara and g/abriel (could be a ship if u want)

summary: How i think g/abriel entering the devils castle and harassing l/ucifer shouldve gone (l/ucifer has a cold obvi)

word count: 1,487

Minors DNI

***

It’s rare for Urushihara to have the apartment to himself these days, and that makes it all the more offensive to have an intruder who hadn’t been relevant in ages up until recently. The fan continued to whir in the background and for once the breeze was actually giving him enough reprieve from the sweltering that he had goosebumps. With the constant humidity, this was something welcome, unlike Gabriel’s presence. He’d give his back teeth to see Alas Ramus beating his ass any day; he’d only heard the recounts from Maou and Emilia, but he was sure such a sight would keep him entertained for the next few decades.

Even after writing down the original demon king’s “treasures” he hadn’t moved to leave and it was beginning to cut into his online shopping time.

“It looks like a drunk seven year old wrote this,” Gabriel sighed, looking at the paper. “Really?”

“I can type ninety words a minute, y’know dude.”

“Mm’kay…how can you be alive for this long and still have handwriting like that? Is that not a part of NEET pride?”

“No.” Urushihara rolled his eyes and shook his head. For a moment there was silence save for the clacking of his keyboard and the whirring of his fan. All this back and forth was starting to drain him.

“So…think of any other treasures?”

“Dude, that’s all I got. Like I said, most Satans are poor.” He gestured to the room around them before pointedly turning back to the screen. Eventually the big lug would show himself out. He rubbed his nose. A tickle had taken root and had been prickling at the pack of his nose since earlier in the morning and much like Gabriel, it had stubbornly refused to leave. He’d lost track of how much he’d sneezed today already.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hehh…” He took in a vocal inhale and with one hand, turned the brightness of the screen up for encouragement, and with the other hand brought his collar up over his nose before sneezing violently into the fabric of his shirt. “hAH’KSSHhieeh!”

Gabriel flinched at the loud expulsion, but his initial expression of confusion quickly shifted to amusement. “Bless you? Oh wait. Can I say that given your…condition?”

Urushihara glared at him. “Dude, you’re actually not, like, supposed to say anything here.” He pulled a tissue out from the dwindling supply in the travel pack next to his leg.

“Hm. But I have a question.”

Urushihara blew his nose. Noisily.

Gabriel took this as his cue to continue. Apparently he was already correcting his earlier digression of reading the mood. “Since when do you sneeze like that?”He was on his way to becoming a second-rate-NEET after all.

Urushihara turned red. “Like what? Leave me ahhlone,” he protested, breath hitching slightly with the threat of another performance. Fuck. He scrubbed at his nose, but from the persistent way his eyes kept trying to close, he knew trying to ward off the sneeze was a lost cause.

Gabriel put his stupid hands on his stupid hips and bent forward like a stupid rooster waiting for a worm to come out of the ground. “I’ll wait. You take your time, bud.”

“hadhtKSHH’iieeh!” Urushihara crumpled forward and shook from the kickback of the sneeze. He emitted a raspy groan and sniffled and rubbed his nose with his wrist.

“I’m really just supposed to not comment on that?”

“Dude,” Urushihara grumbled and sniffled. “What do you want from me?” Gabriel scratched his head and sighed. “Well, I came all this way and you gave me nothung, so—”

“Nothung is a sword. What do you want from me?”

“Oh.” Gabriel relaxed slightly as Lucifer gave him a look of contempt. He helped himself to a glass of cold barley tea. “All I’m sayin’ is you were pretty notorious for having a cute little kitten sneeze.”

Urushihara suppressed a shudder as he fished out another tissue and shook his head. “Don’t say kitten.”

“Just wondering why you’re suddenly screaming. Trying to compensate for—“

Urushihara groaned and cut him off. “Dude, what the hell? Where do you get off coming here to insult me?” He sniffled again and gave his nose an upward swipe with the tissue and then he continued reading the Poketure TV tropes page. “Keep your crush to yourself. I’m not interested.”

“Aw, don’t be like that.” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck and let out a huff of amusement. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m outta your league nowadays, so—“

“You’re a damn baby snatcher!”

Gabriel winced and sat next to him. “Well, I did have some juicy info for you, bud, but after that, I think I’m gonna need some compensation.”

“Dude, Ashiya’ll literally rip you a new one if you take one more thing from the fridge.”

Gabriel smiled. “C’mon, not like that. Guess you can say I’ve been bored too, m’kay?”

“Try getting a life,” Urushihara muttered under his breath as he attempted to return to his own in discovering some fan analyses of the most recent movie in the franchise. He sniffled again and coughed briefly.

“You getting a cold there, bud?”

“I don’t know, okay?”

Gabriel leaned in and poked the tip of his nose. “Bang.”

“What—hih-hht-! ugh f-fuck you.” He’d been a fraction of a second late in batting his hand away and the damage had already been done. “hehhdt…KKSHHh! HehKSSHHH’iEEH!”

“Hm…you probably are.”

“What the hell?” Urushihara crossed his arms and moved out of his reach. He pinched away a few tears from the inner corners of his eyes before flashing a glare. “What are you talking about?”

“You probably have a cold.” Gabriel made himself comfortable on the tatami mat beside him. “Did you start sneezing like that to seem tough around the demons?”

“Dude, no!” Urushihara’s frown turned into a look of disgust. “You’re so weird. Stop asking me questions about my sneezes.”

“I’m already not reading the mood.”

“Congrats.”

“You know, you should be a little nicer to me.” Gabriel sighed.

Urushihara rolled his eyes and grabbed another tissue. The day he started sucking up to Gabriel would be when hell had been frozen over for a millennia. His nose stung with each chafe of the cheap one-ply fabric, and he was starting to think he did in fact have a cold.

“You don’t really sound good. Was falling really worth it?”

“Yes.” Urushihara lowered the tissue for a moment and then squinted slightly before pinching off the budding itch. He was getting more nasally with each word. “And if you think so, that's another good reason to leave.”

“I’m sure you could use the company.”

Urushihara ignored him and scrolled further down the page and smirked at the text. The Thing That Would Not Leave, he read. How cliché. If he could just sit there in silence, eventually Gabriel would leave. Unfortunately, with the way the past few hours had been going, it might not be so easy, and the glare from the blue-tinted light was actively working against his attempts at ignoring the itch that was worsening with every inhale.

“Need another tissue?” Gabriel asked in amusement as he looked over him. He leaned in closer and smiled. “Looks like you’re gonna start up again.”

“Juhhstt stop talki’hhg abouhht—heh…KSHh! Ihkshh! h’KTshh! Iht’kshh!” He sneezed in rapid fire succession, wrist moving up halfway through the fit to cover his nose. They kept coming on, fittish and pitchy, and he was unable to do anything other than ride it out. “mpt’TSShh! http’SHhhee! ihh..hh’TSchhieh!”

“Yeah, that’s more like I remember.”

“Hehht’ZSHHh! Okay? Happy?” He buried his nose into a fresh tissue and blew it again. It was filled and rendered useless after emptying one nostril and he needed to grab a few more.

Gabriel also took a tissue and wiped the spray from his obnoxious t-shirt. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have gotten so close, but his curiosity had been appeased so he’d accept the consequences. “Guess I’m satisfied for now. Anyway, as I was gonna say…you really should be nicer to me, mm’kay? I’m the only reason The Watcher is standing down.”

“The—“ Urushihara sniffled and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you lead with that? What the hell?”

“You should’ve guessed, because Sariel—“

“Hdt’ShhHieh! No! How would I know I’ve been out of the loop for like ever!”

“Aw. Bless y—“

“Dude I’m about to make a few calls and have you escorted out.”

“I’ll be long gone by the time you do.” Gabriel smiled. “Anyway, if you wanna do this again sometime, here’s my number.” He tore a paper and scrawled his number on it and flicked it at him. “Call me if you want to do this again sometime.”

“In your dreams.”

“Hope you have a nice day, bud.” Gabriel’s smile only widened before he finally left.

Urushihara switched tabs and added same-day-shipping lotion-infused tissues to the cart.

#snz #t/diapt #snz fic #sneeze fic #i love luci #my writing #idek what to say #hope someone enjoys

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ashlingnarcos · 1 year ago

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take it

Javier Peña/gender neutral!Reader: informant x javi, reader knows him all too well, hurt/comfort, angst

length: 2.1k, can read on ao3 here instead if you like

inspiration from @narcolini

warnings: referenced kidnapping of reader, tiny bit of kinda sorta choking, also no actual smut

comments & fandom-related asks welcome!

Smell comes to you first: the threatening undertone of shitty apartment mildew, the warm human smell of rumpled sheets, coffee floating on top rich and strong. Then comes sound, a defective air conditioner not fighting the hot air so much as just moving it around. Then comes pain.

Most of the pain is a few days old, dulled to ache, but your hand, that's new. Tiny, negligible, but new. There's something holding you down, your shoulder, pressing you into the mattress, but no urge to fight it. No urge to fight it. Why? You blink, glance up.

Javi’s sitting at the edge of the bed, to your left, legs dangling over the side. The motel room is his, and the hand is his too. He’s leaning on your shoulder, holding you down in earnest, but his attention is elsewhere, on some papers in his free hand. He’s squinting.

He should really see about getting some glasses, but he won't. Just keeps claiming he's tired, he doesn't need them, but he is always tired and he still needs glasses. So tired. Look at him.

If he didn't have his work occupying both his hands, he'd probably scrub them over his face in that way that always serves as prelude to drinking, fucking, sleeping, or bad decisions—sometimes all four, though not in that order. But he's got work in both hands, so he sits steady beside you. God.

You look down at your own hurt hand, discover that someone's put a band-aid on it. Javi has. Can't be anyone else; nobody else knows you're here. It doesn’t feel so bad, maybe a small bruise, a nick. Couple spots of blood on the hem of his long-sleeve t-shirt. A little nick.

In any other bed, upon waking with fresh injuries, you'd be out of your mind with fear. Here, you're just sleepy.

You look down at Javi's hand securing you, the spread fingers. You've seen what this hand can do. Each knuckle different. Two scars, minor, light lines across the back of his hand, maybe an inch and a half long, negligible but for how straight they are, and how parallel. That's ominous. Still could be an accident, but possibly not. What happened, Javi? Accidental scars or not, had to be someone. Many of them, you think. Had to be many of them. He's too stubborn a man to be brought this low by just the one.

Or maybe you're mythologizing again. That's a bad habit of yours. Can't fucking help it, though, can you? If men continually refuse to let you turn on the light, the shadows will come alive with possibilities.

When you put your hand over his, feeling his knuckles against your open palm, you can't resist tracing the raised lines of his scars with your thumb.

Javi startles as though at a buzzing fly, knocked out of whatever world those papers had constructed around him, knocking out of your reverie, and suddenly you're both back in the world.

He closes the file and throws it on the nightstand, tries to take his hand back, but you tighten your grip and he lets you keep it. You interlace your fingers. God, it feels good. Mostly for the way he looks at you, affectionately searching.

“You okay?” he says, soft.

“You tell me.” Still holding onto him, you angle your hand up, indicate the band-aid with your thumb.

Something stirs behind his eyes. “You roll around a lot when you’re dreaming. Nicked it on the windowsill.”

Do you want to ask him whether you talked in your sleep, too? Maybe you didn’t. Maybe you got lucky, and only fought. No wonder he was holding you down.

Those sleeping pills are no joke, you're about to say. But before you can, Javi strokes your hair with his free hand.

He doesn't even try to camouflage it with purpose, doesn’t push your hair back from your face or pick out invisible lint. Just his fingertips, honest, and a face that makes him look both younger and older than he is at once.

Jesus, Javi, if I'd known that climbing into your bed was all it took to melt you, I'd have done this two months ago.

“How are you feeling?” he says.

Last night, it was his stash of bandages laid carefully on your skin, then cold cans of his beer pressed to your bruises. Now you're wearing his shirt, a pair of his boxers, underneath his sheets—his hand is in yours, his hand is in your hair—his eyes are on you, he's fucking everywhere. He's all over you. He's all over you, and you want more.

"Come here,” you say.

"Hm?" he says, like he doesn't know what you mean, smiling a half-smile that gives himself away.

You let go, sit up till your hip is pressed to his, and lean in until your foreheads touch, until he’s all you can see. Every little detail.

Up close, his brown eyes aren’t the way you imagined them, not self-satisfied or lust-darkened or even excited. You’ve never seen this expression on his face before. The closest you’ve ever seen was a caution appropriate to having a gun pressed to his temple. This, though, is something tentative.

"Come here,” you say again, and he does, presses a dry close-mouthed kiss to the corner of your lips, almost chaste.

For that, you turn your head and bite his bottom lip. Not hard, just enough so his lips part, so you can slip your tongue inside, and oh, oh, when he takes your face in his hands and fucking commits, it’s so good. You sigh a sound into his mouth that you didn’t even know you were going to make.

There’s that smile of his, that satisfaction, but then he angles his head and whatever comment you were going to make gets lost. You get lost.

One of his hands slides up your back, underneath your shirt, and there’s something obscene in the sheer span of his spread fingers, the way they flex against your skin, his fingertips digging in. Then there’s his other hand, fingertips slipping under the waistband of your boxers. You stop that hand, put it on your ass instead, and brace yourself for the inevitable.

But the inevitable never comes. No questions, no protests, just Javi grabbing your ass, pulling you in, shifting you till you’re straddling his thigh and he can press his open mouth to your neck. Teeth, too, slow and filthy. You tangle your hands in his sweat-damp hair and keep waiting for him to pull back and ask, but he never does. As you grind down on his thigh, the words just happen.

“You’re so perfect, you make me sick,” you murmur. “How’d I get so lucky?”

He pauses only long enough to get out one syllable, barely audible: “Don’t.”

Then he’s back to your neck, kissing his way up to the sensitive spot just behind the corner of your jaw, like nothing happened.

“What?” you say, barely able to think, but vaguely, disturbingly aware that something did just happen.

“Nothing,” he murmurs in your ear, and you feel a pinprick of alarm: he’s trying to make it sound sexy. Trying. “Come here.”

And now you’re getting exactly what you wanted; he’s all over you. He lowers you onto the mattress and follows, kissing the other side of your neck as his whole body presses you down. Not his whole body weight—he’s holding himself up a bit with one arm. He’s so careful, so intent, so inescapable, for a second you almost give yourself up to it. But then you remember.

“Wait.” You angle your head, try to catch his eyes, and fail. “What?”

Javi picks himself up, so now he’s got one hand planted on either side of your head, leaning over you, panting a little, hair a mess.

“What?” you say. Your voice sounds smaller than you wanted it to be.

“You don’t have to—” He smiles, and fuck he’s so beautiful, but something in that smile makes him look drained down to the last dregs. “Can we not talk?”

Oh. Goddamn him.

A memory rises up, sharp and sudden, searing as staring at the sun: you rubbing your wrists where the handcuffs had been, looking down at the red marks, Javi beside you, pressing the first of many cold beers to the bruise on your forehead because he didn’t have an ice pack. And his voice, as if from far away, saying I’m sorry, over and over.

It wasn’t that bad, really, you would have said, if you’d been paying attention to him. But in that moment you were mostly trying to decide whether to stay or run.

I’m so sorry.

Javi’s eyes contain those echoes now, as his smile fades.

A fierce protectiveness surges up in you: you want to shake him, you want to fuck him, you want to make him say all the shit he won’t ever say.

You take his throat in your hand, instead. His Adam’s apple fits so good in the V between your thumb and forefinger.

“You don’t have to talk,” you say. “But I do.”

Who does he think he is? He doesn’t get a monopoly on guilt because he never had a monopoly on power. It’s that simple. He carries the weight of the world on his back because his ego lets him think the world is his to carry. Come the fuck on.

Somebody needs to teach him how to surrender, and it’s gonna be you.

“Javi,” you say, low.

He’s not looking at you properly, so you let go of his throat and then take hold of his jaw, surge up off the bed till he finally looks at you. In that moment, he looks almost frightened of you, in a way that has nothing to do with your hand.

“You found me,” you say. “You saved me. You, and no one else. Fucking take it.”

Oh, but he's always been a fighter.

He lunges at you as if you’d said something else, something filthy, and you let him think he’s won for a second, let him think it’s only sex, let him press you into the mattress, opening your mouth to him and kissing him back fiercely.

When he pulls away to get air, your hand is on his jaw again, your forehead against his once more, relentless.

“I knew it would be you,” you say, “I knew you’d come for me. I held onto that for the fucking whole car ride. All night in the basement, handcuffed, with a bag over my head, waiting to see what would happen. I had nothing else, but I had that. Don’t tell me that’s nothing.”

Javi bursts out, like you’re hurting him, “If I hadn’t asked you—”

“I made my own choices. I make my own choices. Yes or no?”

“Yes,” he says, but defiant, face set like you’re in an interrogation room and he’s on the wrong side of the table.

Jesus Christ, this man is so fucking stubborn. You’ve never been angrier with him, never cared for him more.

“You think your cock is that good, Javier? Please. I would do a lot of shit for you, but I would never let a man override my own judgment, whether or not I—whether I gave a damn if he lived or died.”

Ah, shit. The first part came out so good, and then that last part, that last part slipped out all by itself. You may as well have said you love him, which, maybe you do, so what if you do? It doesn’t need saying.

Up until that last part, Javi had been stonefaced, but when you cut yourself off and took a breath, something shifted. He’s listening to you now, properly.

You set yourself right and say, more steadily, “Anything I do, that’s on me. I make my own choices, yes or no?”

“Yes.” He says it quieter this time, quieter and truer. Close enough. You'll take it.

“Good.” You lift your hand to cup his sweat-damp cheek. His lashes dip, but he leans into it. When you press your finger just under his jaw, you can feel his carotid artery thumping away, and for a moment, that’s all there is, his heartbeat.

“And now,” you say evenly, so he won’t suspect how the sentence ends, “I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t even dream afterwards. Yeah?”

Javi bursts out laughing, at you and at himself, but his pulse quickens in anticipation just the same. You’re back. When he grins, he shows teeth, a challenge you're only too happy to take. You'll show him. You kiss it into him, first, right into his parted lips: no guilt, no shame, we can be good, baby. We can be so fucking good.

And you are.

#javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #narcos fanfic #narcos readerfic #mine #javier peña

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