#it's been so long since I made a gif I'd forgotten how

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

The Halloween boop made me think of ghost Chu Wanning hitting Mo Ran. Chu Wanning, with his cat-like temperament, would definitely dish out the most impressive boops!

Especially in this scene from chapters 113-114:

Before Mo Ran could react, Chu Wanning had jerked his hand away and struck him across the face with a backhanded slap. “You idiot!” He scowled furiously. “How did you die too?! ... Get the hell out.” Chu Wanning turned his face away, a thousand layers of heartbreak hidden under that veneer of brittle coldness. “You’ve got some nerve, coming to see me after dying so young.”

“Shizun…”

“Out.” Chu Wanning’s face turned away even further. “You’re no disciple of mine. I don’t take anyone so useless as to end up dead in his prime.”

Dead in his prime…

Mo Ran had originally been dejected, but after being reprimanded so seriously like this, he felt warmth flood his heart like trickling spring water. He raised a hand and clapped his palm to his forehead before dragging it down to cover his eyes. Then, unable to help himself, he began to laugh, bitter and sweet and sour all mixed together.

The light sound of his laughter made Chu Wanning angrier still. He whipped his head around to chide, “What’re you laughing about, you—” In a fit of rage, he drew his arm back slap Mo Ran again, but Mo Ran swiftly caught his hand.

The young man’s gentle eyes blinked, slow. Without a word, he solemnly brought Chu Wanning’s hand to press against his own chest.

Thump, thump, thump. A slow, steady heartbeat. Chu Wanning blinked. Surprise, joy, awkwardness, and embarrassment all flitted through his eyes in the space of an instant. But this was the Yuheng Elder after all: calm and cool as ever, singularly adept at schooling his features into unruffled composure, sweeping those extraneous emotions under the rug in a trice as if the one who’d admonished Mo Ran in despair just now had been someone else entirely.

“What’re you doing down here if you’re not dead?” Chu Wanning regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth. It was obvious that Mo Ran had come to save him. But Chu Wanning was afraid that, if Mo Ran really were to say that, his heart might beat right out of his chest. He was so nervous he completely forgot he was already dead and had no heart to speak of.

But Mo Ran gazed at him without saying any such thing. He likely knew Chu Wanning would be embarrassed if he were to say, I came here for you. Mo Ran thought a bit, then pressed his lips together and lowered his lashes. “Shizun,” he asked gently, “can you guess why I’m here?”

A long pause. “You came looking for trouble.”

“Since when did Shizun change his name to ‘Trouble’?” Mo Ran grinned. “Should’ve told me.”

Chu Wanning jerked his hand back, as if stung by this new gentleness. He snapped in flustered anger, “What nonsense! How impudent.”

[orionsangel86]

I watched X-Men 2000 tonight. Yup the Deadpool and Wolverine brain worms got me - at least for a little while - so I figured I'd rewatch the old movies that I havent seen in over a decade and have basically forgotten entirely at this point.

You know what really stunned me? Even more than the slow pace, serious tone, actual dedication to telling a coherent and interesting story with layers of meaning and social commentary attached to it, as well as a sincerity that's been missing from most superhero films since the MCU was born (thanks Josh Whedon).

Nope, what shocked me most was this:

This is a perfect specimen of a man. Look at him. He's gorgeous. But look at his chest? His arms? He's muscular, he's pretty well toned, he's hairy. He's definitely got a six pack - but it's nicely covered by a healthy layer of fat. His skin is plump, he has a bit of squish to him. He'd probably be great to hug (Jean Grey certainly gives him a good squeeze lol).

When he sits down he looks like his stomach will roll just nicely. Like a stomach should.

I know my point here is obvious. It's just that scrolling the Deadpool and Wolvering tag is basically 50% "oh they definitely fucked in the Honda Odyssey" (yes lol) and the other 50% is just horny posting over Wolverine's topless scene like the entire site suddenly adopted Deadpools horny brain.

I gotta give props to Hugh Jackman for his dedication to turn himself into an actual comic book character - because that's what this new movie does. It gives us a comic accurate Wolverine in practically every way (except for his height lol) the suit is amazing, the cowl was a joy to see brought into live action. The body too though was straight out of a comic book artists male power fantasy.

What I wanted to emphasise was that this:

Is extremely tough on the human body. What I wanna know is how long he starved and dehydrated himself for before filming this scene? How long before they shot this did he last drink some water? Because damn that must have been tough. The oil and the lighting probably help further emphasise the muscle, vein, and sinew definition. It's probably similar to how body builders prepare before a show.

Nothing about body building is healthy though. So in the coming weeks as the whole entertainment industry rides on the coat tales of this movies success, and everyone goes crazy over Hugh Jackmans physique, please don't feel pressured into thinking that his 2024 physique in the movie is remotely realistic - or realistically attractive. Like I get the fantasy sure, but come on. I'd personally rather lie on a cushioned bed than a concrete floor.

Deadpool may disagree with me, but he's a masochist lol.

Oh and whilst I stand by the shade I threw at the MCU above, I think Wolverine's different physiques in the movies is a good standard of comparison for how much superhero movies have changed. Because when superhero comics first started getting adapted I think a lot of the choices made were about how to bring them to live action realistically and believably and the attitude was to try not to make them look ridiculous. The first X-Men movies definitely do this.

It was about bringing the comics to life in a way that fit in our world. But over the years, as audiences got more and more used to comic book movies the movies became more and more like comic books and less like a realistic adaptation of a comic book. Does that make sense? So as the movies attempted to bring the comics to life in a way that was less realistic and more comic accurate, the demands on the actors to sculpt their physiques to meet the standards of comic book art became normalised.

I think Deadpool and Wolverine is the MOST comic book accurate of all superhero movies made in the past 2 decades. Half the time the images from the movie look like they could be literally pulled from the pages of the comic books. The story is convoluted and stupid, the plot is barely there and is full of gaping plot holes and elements that don't fit any past stories. The action is ridiculous, extremely fast paced, gratuitous, and violent to a hilarious level. But it's so entertaining, joyful, exciting, and laugh out loud hilarious throughout.

It reminded me a LOT of my attempts at reading through the Deadpool comics (I've read a lot of them but no where near all of them).

To sum up this rambling message with multiple points, I'll say that Deadpool and Wolverine is a really fun movie that I thoroughly enjoyed, but make no mistake there is nothing real in it at all. It is almost literally a comic on screen. Don't expect anything more than that and you'll enjoy the experience.

[myownwholewildworld]

faber est suae quisque fortunae (a "per aspera ad astra" drabble)

main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: marcus acacius x emperor's daughter!reader. summary: marcus would die for you. literally. a/n: this is a drabble from a whole story i didn't think i'd write into a fic but maybe i should?? idk c': comments, likes and reblogs are really appreciated! <3 warnings: kissing, an unhealthy dose of angst. that's it really. w/c: 579 (a baby)

“You shouldn’t be here, Carissima (dearest),” Marcus’ coarse voice was just but an inaudible whisper, his dry, chipped lips moving against yours.

His warm, wounded hands cradled your face, his thumbs swiping the salty tears falling from your tired, reddened eyes. A sob tore through your throat, unable to control the fountain of mixed feelings boiling inside you, giving way to desperation.

You were certain you were about to lose him. The man who had stood by your side through thick and thin in the last few months; the only shoulder you had allowed yourself to cry on. The rock who had kept you afloat since the death of your husband, no matter how treacherous the ocean of your emotions was. Marcus had been the only true constant for the past year of your life; the only person you could rely on and bring you comfort. The only one you would trust.

And because of that, because of his loyalty and devotion to you, he was going to die a traitor. Long forgotten were his sacrifices for the Roman Empire — his whole life committed to serving Rome, his own son slaughtered to quench the thirst of Rome. None of it had mattered.

Your father, Emperor Traianus, would have his head before he could have your hand. In your father’s eyes, Marcus had betrayed his trust, having been accused of treason. Traianus had even ventured to say Marcus had killed your late husband so he could have you. Nonsense, for you knew the truth.

You nuzzled your cheek against the palm of his calloused hand and kissed the rough skin, hugging him tighter. Only leaned back slightly to study his handsome, beaten face. A split eyebrow, a bloodstain on the white of his left eye, a broken bottom lip — your fingertips traced the map of his skin, guilt engulfing you.

“I’m so sorry, Marcus. Had I known this was how it all would unfold—” your throat clamped, your lungs exhaling all air within them in a painful wail.

“I would have done nothing different, my lady. Nothing,” he emphasized, his fingers cupping your chin to tilt your head up. “I made my choice and made my peace with it too. None of this is your fault.”

Tears sprung again to your eyes as Marcus leaned forward to press a heartfelt kiss to your forehead, his soothing touch lingering for a few seconds before he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheeks — leaving a love trail on your skin down to your trembling lips. His mouth ghosted over yours before he pecked your bottom lip asking for permission.

Sinking your fingers in the nape of his neck, you kissed him as if your life depended on it — perhaps because it did. You sought his tongue, his sweet taste soon flooding your senses. He tasted of longing, of love, of missed opportunities, of goodbye.

But not of regret. Never of regret.

“Tomorrow I’ll die, however I won’t be giving my life for Rome but for you. There’s no better death than that. Rome has taken enough from me, won’t take my last dying breath too,” Marcus muttered, his lips pressed against your ear. “My last breath is only yours.”

Bowing your head down, you buried your tear-ridden face in the filthy tunic covering his chest.

How badly you wished it wasn’t true. But it would be, because you both had been the artisans of your own fortune.

[storiesofsvu]

Five Nights Pt 1

*not my gif* Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: language, smut, masturbation, fingering, dirty talk. This is part one!! There is one or two more parts coming, it's a bit of a 5 + 1 trope/style but was getting too long so I figured I'd split it up. Following parts to come likely later this week!

Night One:

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d pulled the short straw and ended up sharing rooms, but at least it was with the silent stoic that was Hotch. He wouldn’t be rambling on about the case hours after leaving the precinct, he wouldn’t force the television onto some mind numbing trashy reality show and he didn’t snore like Rossi did. The only thing you had to ignore was the fact that you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree and were suddenly in much closer quarters and personal space than being in the field or office together.

The town was small, the hotel was cheap and the case was proving that you’d be stuck there for at least a week. All things considered, you needed some relief, some relaxation and all you could pray was that the sound of the shower would cover up anything else. For extra security you turned on a playlist on your phone, figuring that would be enough before you made sure the water was the perfect temperature and stepped under the stream. You let the water cascade over your skin, rinsing away the dirt and grime of the day as your eyes closed and you relaxed against the shower wall. Your hands began to roam your body, tickling at your skin as you let out little shivers, cupping at your chest you pinched your nipples, unable to hold back a quiet moan, Aaron’s name a whisper on your lips as you fantasized it was his hands sinking lower and lower on your body until you reached out for the small toy.

Out in the room Aaron was sitting on the bed closer to the bathroom, the television playing quietly in the background while he got caught up on paperwork. He could have sworn he heard his name, wondering if you’d forgotten shampoo or something in your go bag he glanced up, muting the tv to see if you’d repeat whatever you’d said. The shower was already running and suddenly he caught himself thinking about you naked and dripping, water trailing down your perfect skin and he couldn’t help the way his dick twitched in his pants. Paperwork tossed aside he was about to try and calm himself down before he got to hot and bothered when he heard it again,

“Oh Aaron…”

It was faint, barely audible over whatever music you had playing but you had very clearly moaned his name. Following that he heard the tell tale sign of a vibrator whirring to life and a small whimper. Not only were you naked and wet on the other side of a very thin wall, you were touching yourself.

Touching yourself while thinking about him.

Pretending that he was in there with you doing all the dirty things he’d been wishing he could do to you since the day you met. He let out a low breath, his ears picking up a breathy sigh from the other side of the wall, his cock now hard in his pants. He knew it was a potentially disastrous idea, but you’d just gotten in the shower, if you’d decided to start with making yourself come, you still had to actually shower afterwards. He had more than enough time to get himself off to the sounds you were making through the wall.

Pulling his cock out of the waistband of his pants his thumb swiped over the tip, smearing the precum down his throbbing length. His eyes fluttered shut as his hand squeezed, stroking up and down, listening for any other sounds coming from the shower. With each little whimper, moan or gasp he could hear he twitched in his hand, doing his best to keep quiet as he groaned. He could picture you perfectly, water tracing down your body, fingers pumping into your tight little pussy as you fluttered around yourself, imagining it was his cock buried deep inside you. He thought of you on your knees for him, cock stuffed down your throat as you drooled around him, taking it like the good girl he just knew you were.

“Oh god Aaron.” The music was between songs, this murmur a little louder than the last one, “yeah… right there.”

He squeezed tighter around his length, his hand starting to move faster as he grunted, the coil tightening in his stomach. He imagined you on all fours for him, ass waggling back toward him as you silently begged for his cock before he was sliding it into your cunt, pushing deeper with each thrust of his hips. How warm and wet you’d feel around him, how tight you’d squeeze him, the noises you’d make even better than the little ones he could hear right now. Pleasure burst through him and he groaned quietly, cum spurting out of the head of his dick and onto his stomach. It was only a moment later he heard a quiet muffled cry from the bathroom followed by silence. He grabbed Kleenex from the nightstand, cleaning himself up and tucking his cock back into his pants, relaxing back onto the bed in the exact position he’d been in when you’d left.

Completely distracted by the images in his head and the sounds he wanted to lock away in his brain forever he didn’t even hear the bathroom door click or realize you were back in the room until you spoke.

“What’re you watching?” You asked, crossing past his bed as you glanced at the tv and he looked up.

“Uh.. it appears Futurama.” His eyes darted between the tv screen and you, noticing how tightly your hand was clenched around the shirt you were holding and his pupils widened, knowing just what you had wrapped up in there.

“Huh.” You buried your items into your go bag before you crossed to the bed, “makes sense, I thought it was Family Guy for a sec.” You buried yourself under the covers, letting out a very satisfied nearly dreamy sigh as you did so.

“That good of a shower in this kind of a place?” He asked with a small tease and you chuckled.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” You rolled away so your back was to him, “night Hotch.”

**

Night two:

The next day was exactly the same, work was work, there was no indication that Hotch heard you masturbating the night prior and there definitely wasn’t even a thought that he’d been touching himself at the same time. Returning to the hotel room you fell into the familiar routine, you dug through your go bag for your shower essentials, leaving Hotch in the hotel room to change out of his suit.

The sound of the water running took over the silence of the room and a moment later music echoed from your phone, Hotch unable to hold back a smirk at the knowledge of what you were about to do. A quiet whirring followed by a satisfied moan as the toy slid into you, your free hand roaming your body and you succumbed to your fantasy world. Aaron felt his dick twitch when you let out a quiet whine, wondering how long he would have to withhold making a move now that he knew. He wondered if this week sharing a room would present him with an opportune moment, or if you would bite the bullet and make a move.  He was jostled from his thoughts at the sound of your voice,

“Dammit.” A frustrated huff and he realized the whirring had come to a halt, judging by your outburst, it wasn’t on purpose either. A clattering sound from the other side of the wall as you tossed the toy onto the basin and quickly finished your shower. It was only a minute later the door opened and you were changed into pyjama shorts and a tank, crossing the foot of Aaron’s bed as you made your way to your own.

“Everything alright?” He raised a brow in your direction and you nearly stumbled, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Ran outta hot water.” Distracting yourself with folding the clothes in your hands to place into your go bag you missed his smirk as he moved from his bed, grabbing his toothbrush and paste from his bag.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, you’d been on edge all day, trapped in an SUV with only him for most of the afternoon, the close proximity driving you wild as you tried to not let your imagination go too far. You’d been absolutely dying to get back to the hotel and take care of the pent up energy and now that Aaron was in on your little secret, he could tell. The grin remained on his lips when he flicked the bathroom light on and the first thing he noticed was the bright pink toy still sitting on the basin, unable to resist, he picked it up. The opportunity was staring him right in the face and he wasn’t about to pass it up now.

“You forget something in here?” He called.

“What?” You called back and he peeked his head around the corner. There was a large mirror across from the foot of your bed, a small table in front of it that you had your skin care laid out on.

“You missing this?” He asked, eyes gleaming as he stepped back into the room, holding up the pink toy. You re-capped the lotion in your hand, placing it down onto the table before glancing up and your eyes went wide. You felt the blush creeping up your chest as your heart began to race.

“Uh…it’s, uh, travel back massager.” You stumbled out, trying to cover your tracks, “you know how terrible the beds can be on these trips.”

“Mmhmm….” Hotch smirked, moving through the room to approach you, handing the toy over to you and you immediately tossed it into your go bag. “I sure do. I also know how stressful these little trips can be, it’s important to relax, and I’m guessing that little thing died on you?” He nodded in the direction of your bag and you gulped.

“Yup…” Your heart was beating a million miles a minute over just how close he was to you, never mind the smirk on his lips, the near teasing in his voice, his choice of words letting you in on the game. That he was more than well aware exactly what that toy was for, and exactly what you had just been doing in the shower. You should’ve known better, there was no way the walls were thick enough for you to not be overheard.

“You know��I think I’ve got something that could help you out,” he stepped behind you, eyes finding yours in the mirror, “all you had to do was ask.”

One of his hands came up to the back of your neck, thumb on one side with his fingers on the other and your breath hitched in your throat at the touch. His digits massaged for a moment or two, working down your neck until his hand slid to the crook of your neck and his free one came up to the other side, pinching at your body.

“Hmm… doesn’t seem too tight here. You must’ve been using it lower.” His hands slid over your shoulders, rubbing there for a moment and you felt like you were about to burst, your body tingling with pleasure already. “No… not there.” His hands ghosted down your back, settling around your waist as his thumbs gently dug into your lower back, occasionally slipping under the hem of your shirt and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet gasp at the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin. Hotch stepped closer to you, pulling you to him by your waist, his breath was hot on the shell of your ear when he spoke again, “here?”

“Hotch…” It was barely above a whisper, unable to control yourself, feeling the heat radiating off his body as you began to relax into him, your eyes almost threatening to close as a cloud of pleasure surrounded you. He chuckled, leaning down his teeth nipped at your neck and you let out a moan, this one loud and clear to his ears.

“Oh come on now, we both know that’s not what you were moaning last night.” He grinned and your eyes flew open, catching his gaze in the mirror as heat crept into your cheeks once again. “Now… I think you were using it even lower.” One of his hands wound around your body, pulling you flush to him as it slid down your body until it was between your legs and he cupped your pussy, squeezing softly and you let out a whimper. “Am I right?”

“Yes sir.” You breathed out, your knees felt weak when he massaged at your heat again and you let out a shaky breath.

“What do you say we get rid of these then?” His free hand came to untangle the knot of your shorts, “because I do think I can help you out much better than that stupid little pink thing.”

“Mmhmm.” Nodding furiously your fingers slipped into the waistband of your shorts, quickly tugging them down your legs and kicking them off to the side. Aaron remained behind you, eyes locked on your half naked form through the mirror, one hand holding your hip steady while the other slid up your body. He paused briefly only to grope at your chest through the thin fabric of your shirt, smirking at the little moans that escaped your lips when he did so. His hand continued upward, squeezing lightly at your throat and he felt himself twitch at the way your eyes fluttered shut, the way you shivered at the touch. Finally his fingers found your lips, two of them slipping into your mouth and you eagerly sucked at them, tongue lapping around them.

“Good girl.” He cooed, softly thrusting the digits between your lips before adding a third one and you moaned around them. “God I bet you’d look gorgeous with my cock in your mouth.”

“Mmmhmm.” It was mumbled around his fingers and he chuckled at the way you nodded, sucking harder around him.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” You gasped out when he pulled his hand away from your mouth, “oh please yes.”

“Later.” His other hand pinched at your ass, “first I’m going to get you off far better than that little toy could, alright?”

He glanced at you in the mirror, waiting for your eager nod before his hand slid back down your body and his spit slicked fingers easily found your clit. Fingertips brushing against it in slow circles as he began to increase the pressure, your hips jolting up to the touch.

“Fuck…” You muttered out, tingles bursting through your body as you shivered in his arms. Aaron’s lips found your neck again, trailing messy kisses down your skin as his hand began to move faster. Your head lolled back on his shoulder; eyes fluttering shut as you let out another quiet moan. Suddenly his free hand was wrapping around your chin, tilting your head back up as he spoke,

“Eyes open pretty girl.” He murmured, lips brushing against your ear, “I want you to see how gorgeous you are, want you to watch the way my fingers disappear into that pretty pussy.” His hand sunk lower this time, fingers slipping through your folds, a dark chuckle vibrating through his chest before he lifted his hand, fingertips glistening in the low light of the room, “you dirty girl, already this wet for me?”

“Yes sir.” You breathed out, catching his gaze in the mirror and you blushed, your pussy fluttering around nothing, begging to be filled.

“Have you been wet all day? Wishing I would get you naked, thinking about all the naughty things I could do to you?”

“Mmhm..” You nodded, doing your best not to whine as you shivered.

“Well I better follow through then.”

With another smirk his hand was back between your legs and you let out a gasp when a finger slid into your pussy, clenching down around the digit immediately. A second finger quickly joined it, easily thrusting into your warmth, pulling more wetness from it, as he set a steady pace the hotel room filled with the sounds of your pussy mixed with your breathy moans and whimpers. Your eyes landed on the mirror, watching the way Hotch effortlessly held you to him while his fingers thrust in and out of you, the heel of his hand brushing against your clit,

“That’s it…” he groaned, “such a good girl for me.” His hips ground against your ass and you let out a gasp at the feeling of his half hard cock rubbing at you through his pants. “Take my fingers so well, bet you’d take my cock just as good, wouldn’t you?”

“God! Yes!” You panted, struggling to keep your eyes open at this point, his fingers curling and twisting inside you as his lips brushed against your neck and shoulders. “Fuck… feels..s-so good.” His fingers curled once more and you let out a gasp, your body shuddering in his arms, “don’t stop.”

“Ah.” He raised a brow at you through the mirror, his hand pausing its thrusting so his fingers could curl again, finding the sensitive spot in your pussy, “right there?” He asked and you whimpered when he pressed against it again, nodding as you bit your lip,

“Oh fuck Aaron…” you moaned, your head dropping back onto his shoulder as your hips rocked downward into his touch. He felt himself twitch in his pants at the way you said his name and he wished he was buried to the hilt inside of you right then, but he’d promised you an orgasm first and he wasn’t about to back down on his word.

“You like that, don’t you?” He asked with a chuckle, beginning to move his hand again. He could feel the way you were pulsating around his fingers, how with each thrust of his hand there was more and more wetness dripping down his wrist. Your eyes were scrunched shut, your entire body on fire as he continued to finger you, curling with each thrust until your legs were practically shaking. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter, your hand shooting to his arm, clutching at him for dear life while you whined and shivered with pleasure.

“Fuck! Oh god… m’so close.” You could feel it burning just under your skin, he stretched you so perfectly with just his fingers you were absolutely driven to insanity at the thought of his cock buried in your cunt.

“Come for me pretty girl.” He cooed, nipping at your earlobe as he increased the pace, his free hand wrapping tighter around you to play with your clit.

You let out a gasp at the double sensation, your body jolting toward his touch, hips grinding into his hands as right as his fingers curled once again your free hand shot to your mouth, letting out a muffled cry as your orgasm shot through you like a burst of fire. Your legs nearly gave out, thankful for Aaron’s arm tightly wrapped around your middle as your body shook. A string of quiet swears and whimpers escaped your lips as he gently fucked you through your orgasm,

“So fucking hot.” He murmured, watching the way your chest heaved as you panted in an attempt to catch your breath, little trembles shooting through your body as his fingers lazily thrusted into you. “Was that better than that stupid little pink thing?” He asked, cocking a brow at you through the mirror and you let out a huff of a laugh.

“Much.”

His fingers finally slipped from your pussy and he grinned, “just fucking drenched.”

“All for you.” You muttered, finally able to stand on your own legs you turned slightly to face him.

“Bet you taste incredible too.” He replied with a grin and before he could even get another thought in your lips were wrapping around his fingers again, moaning over your own taste as you sucked his fingers clean, letting them go with a lewd pop. “Christ.” He felt himself throb in his pants once again as he looked down at you, his hands just beginning to toy with the hem of your shirt when his phone went off with a text tone and both of you jumped, suddenly coming back to the real world.

“Ignore it.” You muttered, tugging at his arm to regain his attention and he laughed softly, stepping back toward you when the phone went off a second time. His hand trailed up your neck to your cheek and all he could think about was kissing you to get a taste of what that pretty pussy tasted like when the ringtone began blaring through the room and he let out a frustrated groan, stepping away to answer the phone.

You dropped down onto the bed behind you, watching curiously as he muttered a couple of things into the phone before hanging it up and glancing back to you.

“I have to go back to the precinct.” He grabbed a couple more things from around the room before scooping up your abandoned shorts from the floor, handing them to you, pausing to pinch at your chin, “this isn’t over.”

“It better not be.” You replied with a grin, your eyes very obviously flicking from his face to the bulge in his pants, resisting the urge to reach out and palm him through the fabric.

*

By the time Hotch got back to the hotel that night it was late, far too late to have expected you to still be awake, completely unsurprised to find you curled up asleep in your own bed. He let out a tired sigh, stripping out of his clothes as he made his way to the bathroom. Tonight it was his turn to get off in the shower with the images of you coming around his fingers and fantasy of how it would feel to bury himself into that gorgeous pussy.

This certainly was very far from over.

Pt 2

_____________________

@alexusonfire @svushots @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @plaidbooks @the-hopeess-haze @niyizh @ababanana @tommyriddleobsessed @supercriminalbean @hotchs-bitch @iluvsreid @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @louderfortheback

[saltandburnheathens]

Good morning Miss Winnie. (Part II)

Part I

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader.

Rating: Gen.

Summary:

Two weeks after Dean became a father, it's time to jump back on the hunting horse. But he's hesitant.

Notes: Non-canon, no time line. And I don't ever want kids. But I just became an aunt and I sort of need to get this out of my system! Short and I'm not promising that I won't continue this. Who knows really. Finally this was written after I'd taken my usual nightly gummy.

“Bonnie?” 

You shot Dean a look across the kitchen. He was cooking eggs on the stove while you were nursing. Castiel was the only other member of the bunker awake at six a.m. and, fortunately, occupied the library. It wasn’t that you cared about the other men seeing you breastfeeding, it was how they reacted to it. Both became very awkward and outwardly attempted to look anywhere but at your breasts.

“You can’t accept Winnie, but you pick Bonnie?” 

Dean shrugged. 

“I was just thinking if we had a boy we could call him Clyde. We’d have our own little gang.” 

“Firstly, I’m not doing this again. And secondly, Bonnie and Clyde were felons.”

“What do you mean ‘you’re not doing this again?’ Don’t most women go crazy for more kids? They smell the baby's head and some hoo-doo helps them forget about the pain and bodily fluids.” 

“Yeah, well. You try being in labour for damn near forty eight hours and shitting yourself in a room full of people. Including the man you love. Then come back and tell me you’ve forgotten about it and wanna do it all over again.” 

“Point taken.” Dean laughed, plating up eggs and bacon for them both, “And you didn’t shit yourself by the way.”

“I didn’t?”

“I think I’d remember.”

You smiled at the plate of food and carefully lifted the baby from your breast. She’d long since stopped feeding and was instead squirming, ready to be winded. 

“I can take it from here.” Dean reached down and lifted the little girl up into his arms. He held her upright against his chest and began rubbing circles into her small back, “There we go kiddo. Get it up.” 

“Be careful.” You warned. 

“I’m not taking any chances.” Dean gestured to the polka-dot muslin cloth on his shoulder. 

You watched as he gently walked your daughter around the kitchen, her little body squirming while he cooed into her ear. She made several little squeaking noises, threatening to cry, only to be brought back to earth by her father’s tender voice. 

“Come on now, no tears. I’ve got you.” 

Your eyes locked with Dean’s for a moment, both reflecting a soft smile. He was proving to be an excellent father, not that you’d doubted him for a second. But Sam had. He’d been very vocal about Dean knowing nothing about babies and how, despite the fact that he was happy for you both, he thought this whole ‘raising a family thing’ was a bad idea.

“You guys are great together! But I don’t think this is the right environment for a kid.”  Or something along the same bullshit. 

Dean had been adamant about her though. He damn near refused to speak to Sam until he stopped with his questions and logical answers. Sure you both had been sceptical about bringing a child into this life, but neither of you had actively prevented it. If it happened, it happened. 

Speaking of the devil. Sam groaned and stretched his arms above his head, stumbling into the kitchen. He dug the palm of his hands into his eyes, drawing them down his face afterwards. 

“Morning. Coffee’s in the pot.” Dean said, his voice shifting from Dad to brother by just an octave. 

Sam poured himself a hefty mug before offering more to the kitchen. You declined but insisted that he fill up Deans. 

“He’ll need the caffeine for your hunt.” 

“Oh so you’re back on the job then?” Sam questioned, his eyebrows rising. 

Dean’s brow furrowed as he shifted the little one on his chest. He searched her face, the cogs visibly turning in his head. 

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” 

“What? I thought you’d be happy to get back on the horse.” You’d assumed that after being out of work for almost two weeks that Dean would be craving a hunt, but his face said otherwise. 

“Yeah. I mean I am. But she - “ 

“She’ll be right here when you get back.” You interrupted, “It’s a simple in and out job. Right Sam?” 

“Sure. Run of the mill ghost in the attic for some old friend’s of Bobby’s.” Sam took a lengthy sip of his coffee, “And it pays too.” 

“See? And we could use the cash for Winnie.” 

Sam scoffed, barely holding onto the coffee in his mouth. He looked between you both and then to his niece. 

“Winnie?”

“Short for Winchester but not her name. Just a placeholder until we find the perfect one.” You inform, “But what’s so wrong with Winnie anyway? It’s a perfectly acceptable name.” 

“Nothing wrong with it at all. It’s just not what I pictured you both to come up with.” 

“Fortunately it’s not.” Dean added, shifting the baby from one arm to the other as she reached up with her little hands, “As for the hunt, I’m not sure.”

He offered a finger for her hand to close around, eyes never leaving her. the features on his face softened, lips almost pulling downwards into a frown. 

You exchanged a knowing look with Sam. 

“If this is about Win- her- you don’t need to worry. I can cope fine on my own for one night.” You offered

“Yeah but what if it isn’t just one evening?” Dean answered, his voice doing nothing to disguise the concern he was feeling. 

“It’s only a few towns over. We’ll be home by four am - ” 

“But what if something goes wrong? Huh? Then what? I’ve left my wife without a husband, my little girl without a father. And -” 

You jumped to your feet at the distress in his voice and rushed to loop an arm around his middle.  

“Don’t say that. It’s a run of the mill job, something you guys have done one thousand times over. Nothin’ bad is gonna happen other than a few bruises.” You laid your head on his shoulder, eyes coming to settle on the little lady in his arms, “I can deal with those. And she’ll not know any different.” 

With a deep sigh, Dean kissed you gently on the head. It was an uncharacteristic display of affection, especially in front of his brother, but you hadn’t the heart to react. You knew he was feeling vulnerable, that much was clear in his reaction, and to draw attention to it would only make things worse. Instead you settled against him and allowed his warmth and the soothing sounds of your baby to still your own anxiety. 

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that some part of you was fearful of your husband walking out of the bunker and never coming home. Hunting was a dire job, one which had claimed the life of many of your comrades. Dean may be an experienced hunter, renowned in his own right, but he certainly wasn’t immune to unfortunate outcomes. That much had been proven time and time again. 

Lost in thought, the only sounds in the kitchen were the gentle fussing of your daughter and the whirring of the circulation fans. 

Finally Castiel broke the silence with his sudden entrance. He appeared in a flurry of feathers, one coming to land on the table top by your abandoned coffee cup. 

“We have doors, Cas. Use ‘em.” Dean warned, pulling your daughter closer to his chest as she began to fuss. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. It’s a force of habit.” Castiel answered, taking a seat next to Sam, “I startled her.” 

“You think?!” 

You moved to take the baby from Dean but he shook his head, whispering a small ‘I got this’ back to you as he started to rock her from side to side. But it was no good, her cries grew louder and more furious. You began to wonder how those big sounds could even come from such a small creature. 

Before you could offer your help again Castiel brushed past you. 

“I didn’t mean to scare her.” He said, coming to stand in front of Dean “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Here” to your surprise, Dean held your daughter out towards the angel, “You can settle her down while I grab her diaper bag.” 

You lean in and quickly sniff.  

“I don’t think she needs changed, D.”

“Well I don’t know what else to do. She -” 

Castiel reached forward and lifted the infant from Dean. He brought her to settle in the crook of his arm, offering up his fingers for her to grab at. Gradually she began to quiet, her hands reaching up for Castiel’s and her eyes wide, staring into his face. 

You and Dean watched on in outward confusion. Castiel, to your knowledge, had never handled a baby before. At least not in recent years. 

“How did you do that?” Dean asked almost aggressively, “She was cryin’ up a storm seconds ago and you just took her and nothing.”

“Did you use your grace?” Sam suggested. 

“She’s much too small to handle my grace in any capacity. It would kill her.” 

You considered jumping in and taking her from Castiel but stopped yourself. She was settled and happily holding onto the angel's fingers. No sense in ruining it. Beside you Dean was tense, clearly struggling with something along the same lines. His face was etched in hard lines and you could see his brows furrowing. 

Gently you looped your arm through his and guided him to his long forgotten coffee cup. He moved but his eyes never left you daughter in the angel’s arms. 

“So,” Sam cleared his throat, “About this hunt.” 

“What about it?” Dean glared at him over the rim of his cup. 

“Are you in or -” 

“He’s in.” You answer before the question could even be finished. 

“Wha - I -” 

“Oh come on. You got this. I can handle her and Cas will be here if I need any help. Right Cas?” The angel gave something akin to a positive response, “You have to get back out there at some point.”

Dean’s gaze flickered from Sam to you, finally coming to land on Castiel. He watched the angel gently swaying the little girl in his arms and the lines on his face began to soften. 

“Hmmm. You’re sure about this?” He asked. 

“Positive.” 

“If there’s any trouble, anything at all, you call me.” 

“Sure.” You smiled, “But I doubt Winnie will be as much of an issue as your malevolent spirit.” 

Dean chuckled, accompanied by Sam. 

“God, we’re really going to have to talk about her name when I get back.” 

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Hi! I've read a couple of your fics and guidelines for requesting and I'd like to give it a go. Can I get a Tech x reader who's a friend of Phee (canon divergence where He lives) where he falls in love with reader and spends time relaxing on Pabu. Hope you have a wonderful day/night/whatever time it is for you! 😁

Falling Swiftly

Tech x Reader

Summary- Being a friend of Phee's, you meet The Bad Batch. Tech catches your eye, and you eventually get to live out your dream with him on Pabu.

A/N- *slowly slides in*.....So its been almost three months since I've posted.... SORRY! Better late then never? Either way, it's here now!! I hope you enjoy, TYSM for requesting!!! I went a little crazy at the beginning, sad to happy is MY FAV! The timeline is slightly exaggerated.

Word Count- 1,622

Tech. CT-9902. Brown Eyes.

You had first heard of the name when your friend Phee had sent you a Holo message. One that explained she ran into a group called 'The Bad Batch,' that they would be returning to the island with her.

You were ecstatic that your long-distance friend would be returning to Pabu. It had been weeks since you had seen her, you needed to catch up.

She always told you about the trifling adventures she went on, she was the thrill seeker of the friendship. You were content living vicariously through her.

Though, her bringing in a new 'batch' of people? Mild concern flowed through you, but you trusted Phee's judgement. Even if she had barely escaped death many times.... Okay, maybe you didn't trust her completely.

When word spread through the island that a ship was inbound, you knew it was her. Pabu didn't get many visitors.

You eagerly awaited her at the top of the island, a safe distance from the landing pad. You were practically bouncing on your heels with excitement.

"Phee!" You exclaimed as soon as you saw her exit the ship. She laughed and walked over with open arms.

A warm hug was exchanged, but cut short as the rest of 'The Bad Batch' walked down the ramp.

A small girl and three men, who vaguely resembled clones, appeared.

Your eyes immediately landed on the quirky looking man. He wore glasses, shaded yellow, and had his head down to look at his Holo pad. He somehow managed to not trip or run into anyone. This slightly impressed you.

"This is Pabu. My home away from home!" She announced to the group.

"And this, is my dear friend." She shared your name to the group while you awkwardly waved.

The tension was eased as soon as the young girl, ran up to you.

"That's such a pretty name, I'm Omega!" She radiated energy, her kindness was contagious. "Thank you. It's really nice to meet you, Omega."

Pleasantries were cut short as Phee continued her tour. You trailed along with them, mostly keeping quiet.

You always noticed how people tuned you out, almost forgetting you were there. It was something you were used to, so why change? You were talkative to the people you were comfortable with, wasn't that enough?

Somehow you didn't feel that way with, who you learnt was, Tech. Sure, his eyes were glued to his pad most of the time- but the few days you spent with him felt different.

When traveling around the island with everyone, Tech didn't let you trail behind. He always kept up with your pace. Only a few words were exchanged alone, but he always made you feel... human. He didn't let you be forgotten.

It shocked you when he knocked on your door, asking to go on a walk. You could faintly hear Omega and Wrecker snickering behind a bush.

Fighting your surprise, you accepted.

From there, the two of you spent hours upon hours together.

The smile on your face would only grown when he started ranting about his current interest. His vast knowledge amused you.

When he recounted tales of him and "The Bad Batch's" adventures, you felt like you were really there. Not to mention some of the recordings he had showed you.

One night, the two of you had found yourselves by the sand. The sound of the water splashing up made you sleepy.

With your arms crossed under your head, you laid flat. Tech, who was next to you, sat bent over. Of course- his Holo pad was between his hands.

"Did you know some beaches glow?" He started, eyes still down.

"Hmm? Really?" You asked, shifting your attention to him.

"Well-" He pushed his goggles up. "They are not technically glowing. The bright light is caused by ostracod crustaceans, which are bioluminescent organisms."

You closed your eyes, listening to him rant on about different sea life that illuminated light.

Your smile soon dropped, sadness overtaking you. A wave of emotions hit, you remembered all too well that he was leaving in the morning... You understood he had to save his old friend, Crosshair. Though, it didn't hurt any less.

Desperately, you tried to conceal your pain. Only a sniffle escaped.

Tech, oh so observant, Tech. "What is wrong?" He set his Holo pad down, eyes locked on you.

He cared about you so much... You squeezed your eyes shut and shuffled to a sit. You could barely respond, your tears overtaking you. "You're leaving..." At that, you shoved your face in your hands.

You didn't notice that Tech had moved closer until his hands gently pulled at your wrist. "I'll be back." He insisted, trying to see your face.

"Tech, I'm worried for you. What if something happens?" You stared at him, an argumentative tone present.

With an unintentional scoff, he spoke. "I have been on many improbable missions. If I thought this one was impossible, I wouldn't be going."

You sat there, wrist still in his grasp. "You don't understand.." Your eyes filled again.

It's true Tech was not one for emotions, or picking up on tension. It was difficulty for him to process others feelings.

"I know. Please... Help me understand."

You just sobbed, he pulled you tight against his chest. You could feel his heart beating, it was fast like yours.

He kissed the top of your head, at a loss for words. Eventually, a hand fell down to rest on your back. He slightly rubbed it every so often.

That was all you remembered of that night. It had been days after, no one knew when they would be coming back. If they were coming back. It was a no contact mission, the risk was too high.

Your mind was filled with thought of him. Sure, he was gone, but he seemed so vivid in your memory.

He was genuine. You knew he wasn't lying when he pushed your hair back and complimented your eyes.

You knew he wasn't lying when he held your hand softly and told you how he yearned to stay with you.

You knew he wasn't lying when the two of you picked flowers and promised a future together.

Who knew that future would be at such a high stake? Was your Tech going to come back alive?

It had been a painful two weeks. Each day without him was a stab to your heart.

What had stressed your out most, was seeing their ship fly in... It was about to be reality. Was he alive? Dead?

You anxiously shifted on your heels at the top of the island, not unlike the first day you met Tech.

Hunter was the first off the ship, next was the man you assumed to be Crosshair.

"Hunter! Is he-" You would later feel bad for not welcoming Hunter back as well, but he'd understand.

Your question was answered as soon as you saw him pace out the ship. For once in his life, he wasn't holding his Holo Pad.

As you would later learn from Hunter, Tech had never been this eager to land the ship...

"Tech!" You ran up, meeting him. A slight jump had you wrapping your arms around his neck. His own hands joining on your lower back.

All you could do was bury your face in his neck and whisper thanks to the Maker.

Your arms only relaxed when you felt kisses on the top of your head. "Oh, Tech. I missed you more than words can describe." You said, pulling slightly away to look into his eyes.

"I think I understand." He said looking down at you. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, confused. Then it hit you- the beach.

With a sob, your grip tightened again as you held him.

A slight pang hit your chest when remembering that moment, it quickly went away. You were completely content with Tech, living out your days on Pabu.

The memory did, however, make you want to see your husband. Getting up from your chair in the kitchen, you headed out to your somewhat of a shed. Tech mostly worked in there, tools and projects that helped Pabu.

You gave a quick knock on the wooden door to let him know you were there, but you assumed he already knew by him calling you name.

A mischievous grin came across your face when you realized he had taken his sleeved shirt off and tied it around his waist. The Pabu heat was no joke in the summer.

"What ya working on?" You queried, leaning over him. Your chin rested on his sweaty shoulder.

"Experimenting on an echolocation device to persuade fish towards the fishermen's ships." He explained briefly for you, head still down working at a handheld device.

When you didn't move nor respond, he shuffled to look at you. "Did something happen?"

His eyes absentmindedly scanned you for any physical injury. Deep down, Tech was still a soldier.

"No, just thinking about you." You smiled at him, just wanting to spend time with him.

He understood well enough and moved to pull a chair up by the table. "Here, you can watch." His words seemed off putting, but you knew that's just how he was. That it was his way of showing he cared and also wanted your presence.

So, you sat and listened to him rant about the technological side of his piece, and that the last step was to make it bolt to the base of the fishing boats.

You couldn't offer many ideas or solutions, but Tech being able to talk out the project helped him tweak his wires. He always worked better with you next to him...

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! This is BARELY proof read, sorry! I just wanted to get something out for you guys!!! Please let me know of any constructive criticism!

Tags- (LMK if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss @dangraccoon

[d34dxr0ses]

|| Everlasting Ink ||

TattooArtist!Boyfriend!Xavier Thorpe x Fem!Reader -- Summary: You've always been Xavier's muse, inspiring and motivating his work, but right now he wants nothing more than for you to be his canvas for his most recent design. Warnings: MDNI/18+/Tattoo artist Xavier AU/Aged Up characters/Spice/Xavier giving reader a sternum tattoo/Kissing/Pet names (Angel;Babe;My love)/Pinch of Possessive!Xavier A/N: This is the first fic I'll be posting here, so I hope you guys like it! (Also this was written at 1am so apologies for any mistakes)^^

It had been 15 minutes since Xavier started looking at you, still cleaning and sterilizing his tattoo gun, and he has yet to look away. You were reading a book you had picked up from the library before you met up with your boyfriend in his art shed, that was hidden in the woods on Nevermore's campus. Though you were deeply invested in your book, you couldn't shake the feeling of his gaze, so you glanced up to meet his adoring eyes.

"What?" You laughed out, inspecting his face. He looked like a kid who was scared to ask his mom for some candy, but his eyes were much wider (lost in thought, clearly), and his cheeks slightly more red.

"I uh.." He cleared his throat and looked down at the cloth and tool in his hands, that he had been thoroughly wiping every inch for the past several minutes; before continuing "My love, and you can absolutely say no, but well- I finished a design that I've been working on, and I was hoping to tattoo it on you?" He placed his tattoo gun on the desk before quickly rummaging through all his papers before finding his sketch book.

You stood up from where you sat and approached his chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind as you stared at the drawing he flipped open too. You already knew you would probably have let him the moment he asked in such a sweet tone, but you were stunned by the piece. It was a fairly larger sternum tattoo, that would wrap around your chest and peak in between your boobs. The drawing had such intricate details, and little parts that made it appear that he had designed it just for you. Even the chest model he had drawn matched yours damn near perfectly.

"Xavier.. That's beautiful, I'd be honored to be you canvas." You said the last part in a fake, more proper sounding accent. His eyes lit up and his head snapped back so he was facing you. You could've swore that if he had a tail it would be wagging.

"Wait seriously? Like now? Can we do it now?" You could only imagine how long a piece like this would take, and it was already pretty late, but you had enough caffeinated drinks that you really didn't care, with the look he had stuck on his face you'd probably let him cover every inch of your body in his drawings, hiding your skin away in the ink.

--

That's where you sat now. Lying on your back, topless and staring at the drawing of your tattoo in his book. Your page. Sure, he had a lot of drawings of you, but this was different. It wasn't your face, your body, your hair. No, this was you. This was something that clearly showed that he took a great look into who you really were. Each line told its own story; then you noticed it, scattered throughout it was letters, unnoticeable unless you were specifically looking for it, letters that spelt out his name. A grin climbed onto your face, as closed the book, setting it on the desk closest to you. You looked down at the boy with long brown hair, who's bangs had now been tied back.

"Your name huh? Claiming me now?" Blood now rushed back to his face. It was a part of the design he had completely forgotten about. A part that he sketched out while thinking about you with his name stained onto your body, showing that you were truly his, and his alone.

"I forgot about that, babe I promise I wouldn't try to tattoo my name on you without perm-" but you cut him off. He was almost frantic, which was cute, but always led to him rambling on nervously for at least 10 minutes.

"I like it, its not like its in bold, neon ink, keep it. Please?" You added the please with a small whine for good measure, to make sure he wouldn't feel bad about it. He just nodded and started prepping you for the stencil.

This was your first tattoo, so you weren't exactly prepared for the cold liquid to be sprayed on your body, but when it was you couldn't help but flinch, which made your usually gentle boyfriend, push down slightly on your chest.

"Angel, I know you've never had this done, but for this I'm gonna need you to stay perfectly still once I get the gun out." His voice was stern and dry, a huge change in pace from the timid boy from a moment ago, but not an unwelcome one. You found it quite attractive the way he could switch back and forth like that. You just nodded, and went back to admiring him at work.

-

It had been several hours since he started the tattoo, it was decently painful, but at the same time felt really nice. You had finally adjusted to the way he was doing it, when he suddenly lifted the tool and stood up, readjusting himself. You thought he was just stretching after sitting uninterrupted for so long, but instead he moved onto the table where yo were, positioning his knees on either side of your hips, squeezing you gently to keep you in place. How flustered you were must've been clearly shown on your face because, still keeping the machine away from you, he leaned down and kissed you, you could feel his smirk in the kiss. He was loving this. You'd been watching him the entire time, not his work, but his face and body movement, and he knew it. He himself had a hard time keeping his eyes on his art. Your breasts were completely exposed to him, and he loved knowing that he was the only one allowed to see you like this.

He finally broke the kiss, giving you a moment to fix your breathing, and stop moving before returning to the tattoo.

-

It was nearing sunrise when the tattoo was done and yet you both still felt wide awake. He hadn't moved from his spot straddling your waist since he got there, ,but he did have to pin down your shoulder every so often when it tried to move on it's own. He was surprised that you didn't ask him to stop for a break at all. You were in a trance like state watching his every movement, but at the very least it kept you still. He brought his phone out and took a photo of "the tattoo" He told you, but you knew exactly why he was so precise with his angles.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch22

Description: Simon finally breaks…

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I have lost track of time. The last thing I remember is Graves climbing over me.. or wait.. Kyle..? No, Kyle is in Amsterdam.. My head thumps and my entire body aches. I should never have allowed myself to be so vulnerable in front of Graves.. he was an unmated Alpha for fuck sake.. and I was an unmated whatever-the-fuck-I-am. It was a dangerous move.

I slowly blink my eyes open and try to figure out where I am. I can't hear anyone. It smells familiar.. Whereever I am, it's pitch black and cosy. I feel around and find my phone. I furrow my brow in confusion. I quickly realise that I'm not wearing the crusty, wet, bloody Shadow gear anymore.. I'm in a massive, soft hoodie and some of my leggings that I had bought when John and Kyle took me shopping. What the fuck...?

I use the light from my phone screen to light up the room. MY NEST CUPBOARD. I squeak happily, I'd made it back.. where were the Alphas..? What had I done while I was out of it.. Oh god... I hope everyone made it home safe.. Johnny and the Lieutenant must have went after Graves.. What about Rudy and Alejandro..

It's just past midnight, I realise, when I check my phone. And it was Tuesday. I don't know how long that means I've been out of it.. I decide to get up - my stomach rumbling and my body desperately needing to get something to drink.

As soon as I stand and switch the light on, I see that I'm wearing the Lieutenant’s hoodie. I didn't know he had a hoodie.. I glance down to the cupboard and see so many belongings that aren't mine. I see Kyle's familiar hoodie, Johnny's towel (I can tell it's his because its basically a giant Scotland flag), John's boonie hat and.. wait.. is that a balaclava..? Why would the Lieutenant leave me something.. he - he wouldn't have cared for my comfort. The only thing missing, I notice sadly, is my hanky. Probably gone forever..

The longer I stand, the more and more light headed I feel. Sweat prickles my brow but I feel cold. I stumble towards the door and feel my way down the corridor, in the direction of the kitchen. A particularly harsh stomach cramp rolls from head to toe, causing me to grit my teeth and groan under my breath. I didn't want to wake anyone up, so I stayed as quiet as possible, given the ridiculous time of night that I'd decided to come round from whatever feral state I'd been in.

I finally reach the kitchen and immediately dive into the fridge. Nothing really stands out to me so I step back and look in the cupboards. I find some oranges - labelled 'easy peel' - mmmm.

I slowly peel the first orange and turn to put the peelings in the bin when I get the fright of my life.

The Lieutenant is sitting on the sofa watching me. I can’t help the whimper that falls from my lips, the peeled orange long forgotten as it hits the floor and rolls away under the table.

He stares back at me, with an unreadable expression in his eyes. He is wearing a plain black balaclava now, which leaves much more of his face exposed. It has a much wider eye hole, which means I can see the top of his nose. Oh shit I'm staring...

He clears his throat roughly. "Didn't read the note Kyle left, then" he says bluntly.

What note?! "Uhm.. no, sorry Lieutenant.. what note..?" I whisper back, nervously. Another cramp hits me but I try to control my reaction seeing as I've got an angry Lieutenant staring me down.

"The note on your door. It said to stay in your nest and text Cap if you needed anythin', too late for that now though, eh?" my stomach drops as his gravelly voice tells me how I've disobeyed orders that I wasn't even aware of..

"S-sorry, I - I didn't know.." - "Shouldn't be out here in your state, little one.." he growls.

I furrow my brow "Wh-what state..? I don't understa-"

He interrupts me with a laugh "you can't fuckin' smell yourself..? We've all been holdin' back our ruts since you fuckin' got lifted onto the Helo, clinging to Cap like a fuckin' leech.."

"Wh-what..? I don't remember.. I can't smell myself.. I don't know.." I stutter, tripping over my own words.

The Lieutenant narrows his eyes at my confusion. "What the hell d'ya mean you can't remember...?" he barks at me "What's the last thing you recall..?" he continues.

"Gr-Graves.. on me.." I sniffle - "Then.. I think I blacked out.." I sniff again - "No, you didn't black out, little one, you went feral.. think you started presenting too, Omega.." he says with confidence in his voice.

Something inside of me snaps when he uses the word 'Omega'. I hear the whine before I realise that it's coming from myself. I blush, embarrassed. He chuckles darkly "I did tell ya', little one, don't act all surprised.. you were practically begging Cap and Kyle to give you their knots in the Helo, till you passed out with your nose attached to Price's glands, that is.. Took all of John's control to stop Johnny from snatching you away there and then.. they're all pent up in the pack room right now - been two days and they still aren't out of the ruts you triggered.."

"I - I should leave.." - "S'too late for that.." he warns, shifting his legs wider and leaning forward on the sofa.

"I'm - I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to cause so many issues.." - "S'too late for that too" he chuckles.

I feel a tear drop from my eye, and I hurriedly try to wipe it away with the sleeve of the, far too big, hoodie.

"I-I'll go" I sniff, turning to leave. A large gloved hand grabs mine before I manage to step any further. "Sit down.." he grunts.

I don't respond instantly, just staring at his huge hand and how it engulfs mine - "Oi, sit down.." he reminds me, with that harsh voice of his.

I whimper but sit, obediently. I gulp as another cramp rattles through my body.

"Brave girl, just walking around ignoring those cramps that you're having.." he teases.

"Wh-what cramps..?" I try to lie. I'm not sure why I did that...

He grunts a laugh, turning away and busying himself at the counter. I fiddle with my own hands and pick the skin around my nails, anxiously. He eventually turns and hands me two peeled oranges.

"Here" he grunts. I look between the oranges and his eyes for a few seconds, he isn't a patient man - "take them and eat them.." he growls.

I obey again, nervously reaching out and taking them, pulling them apart, segment by segment, and plopping them in my mouth, one at a time. He watches me intently. I stop, about half way through the second orange and he immediately takes it from me and pulls a segment off and practically hand feeds it to me. I reach to take it from his fingers, but get the feeling that if I hadn't, he would have opened my mouth and placed it on my tongue, until I swallowed. I blush, but allow him to do whatever it was he was currently doing...

I take the last piece of orange and swallow it. "Good girl.. tea?"

I push away the whimper I want to let out when he praises me, and gently nod my head. "If you're making one.."

He moves away to the kettle, and as he turns his back, another cramp hits me. They are getting more frequent. I raise my knees, so I'm hugging myself tightly on the sofa, practically in a ball.

"The others are desperate for you to stay..." I snap my gaze to the back of his head. He stands, facing away, waiting for the kettle to boil.

"I - I don't think that's true.. they just -"

"Shh. They want you to stay. You've made a space for yourself in our pack, like it or not" - "I didn't mean to.." I whisper

"No, but you have, haven't you..?" - "I can call Laswell and ask to leave.." I offer. He growls.

"No you fuckin' won't" - "I don't understand.." I sniff, catching another tear with the sleeve of my his hoodie.

"Stop cryin'.." He rumbles - "I'm trying" - "try harder" he grunts. Jeez, helpful as ever Lieutenant..

"Don't you want to stay with them.." he asks, still turned away.

"It's - it's not that.. I'm intruding. I don't belong here.. I don't want to ruin your pack.."

"I'm not the pack Alpha. S'not my decision.." - "I don't care.."

He tilts his head, confused. Usually the pack Alpha's word is final.

"What d'ya mean you don't care..? - "I mean.. I want my own pack. A pack that wants me. A pack that loves me. I still don't even know what I am.." I sniffle.

"You're a fuckin' Omega.. how many times do I need to tell you - you've drove me fuckin' mad since the moment I fuckin' saw you"

He approaches with two cups of tea. He hands me mine, gently before sitting down across from me with his own cup.

He slowly raises the bottom of his balaclava. I snap my gaze away, refusing to look.

He chuckles under his breath at my reaction.

"Scared to look..?" he teases "scared to see the monster underneath..?"

"No.." I reply, sure of myself.

"Well why don't you take a peek then.." - "Only pack and those you trust.. Johnny told me you don't show your face to just anyone.."

"And you think you fall into one of those categories..?"

I freeze, my brain in a total muddle. I don't understand...

"You saved Johnny. Fuck - you probably saved me too, pullin' that little undercover Shadow stunt. Clever, by the way.. must admit, I prefer you in my hoodie over that fuckin' shit we had to peel off of you.." He growls. I stay silent, still turned away, trying to gather my thoughts.

"When I heard you fuckin' scream.. I'd have skinned Graves alive for hurtin' you. I couldn't bare it, almost lost my rag there and then.."

I raise my arm to wipe more tears that had started falling while he spoke.

"I'm not good with words..I'm fuckin' trying my best here.." I gulp, he sounds vulnerable. Is he letting his walls down..? Or attempting to, anyway..

"Laika..? Turn around, for fuck sake.."

I slowly turn around, with teary eyes and shaky hands. I try to hide behind the cup of tea. I keep my gaze down on my lap.

"I'm sorry" he says. My eyes snap up to meet his instantly. Deep brown eyes. Stubble - blonde? Sharp jaw and a small scar on his chin. That's all I could see.. I stare at him for what feels like forever.

"Stop lookin' at me like that.." - "S-sorry.."

"As much of a monster as you were expecting?" - "Nowhere near.. not even close.." I whisper softly.

"Tell me, would you stay with us..?" - "No.. I don't belo.." - "Why not?" - "You don't like me, Lieutenant"

A pin could have dropped, the Lieutenant goes quiet. Scarily so.

I stand to leave, I place my empty cup down by the sink and turn to leave.

I have my hand on the door handle and the Lieutenant still hasn't moved.

"It'll break their hearts.." his gravelly voice whispers. I pause, facing the door.

"I'm sorry.." I hear movement from behind me and all of a sudden I've been turned around and he is cupping my jaw, softly - softer than I thought he would ever be capable of.

"Why can't you see..?" he groans, almost as if he is in pain.

"Lieutenant..?" - "Simon.. it's Simon to pack.." - "I'm not pa..."

"I want you to be pack. I want you to stay, we all do. I can't watch you leave. I can't watch you break everyone's hearts because I'm too stubborn to open up"

*Ghost's POV*

This girl wouldn't fuckin' listen would she? I've been sat here for half a fuckin' hour, surrounded in her sweet, tempting scent, and she still can't listen.

She is about to leave. You'd be a fool to let her leave like this. DO SOMETHING YOU STUPID BRUTE!!

"It'll break their hearts.." I whisper, as she turns the door handle. By some grace of god, she stops.

"I'm sorry.."

She apologises. She fucking apologises. She is about to leave.. NO DON'T LET HER GO!!

I am off of the sofa in a flash, and she was far too easy to turn around. The way she stares up at me, all teary eyed and broken hearted. Why can't she understand..?

"Why can't you see..?" I ask her

"Lieutenant..?" don't fuckin' call me that..

"Simon.. I'm Simon to pack.." - "I'm not pa..." pack pack pack pack Omega Omega Omega

"I want you to be pack. I want you to stay, we all do. I can't watch you leave. I can't watch you break everyone's hearts because I'm too stubborn to open up"

I've said it, I've finally fuckin' said it.

I close my eyes and wait for her to say something.

"Si- Simon.." My eyes roll back and I purr. I'm Simon to pack.. She is pack..

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

"Si-Simon.."

Could I allow myself a chance at this..? Did I deserve it when I am still paying for sins that I don't even remember..

He doesn't answer me. I reach up and cover his gloved hand with my own, still rested gently on my jaw. That seems to snap him out of it.

He stares down at me with those deep brown eyes. His scent is intoxicating, almost soothing my cramps by being so close to me. I could just stand on my tip toes and sniff him.

I whimper at the thought.

"You need to stop making those pretty little noises in front of me, especially while you're covered in my scent" he growls, softly, reaching around me with his other arm and balling his hoodie into his large hand, pulling me closer.

"I'll take you back to your room. I need to go and cool off.. you and your fuckin' scent drivin' me mad".

I allow him to guide me gently down the dark hallway, his hand hovering over my lower back.

I stop at my room door and open it, turning to stand in the doorway, facing him. He stares back at me.

"What are you going to do now...?" I ask, knowing damn well that he isn't going to go to the pack room.

"Go back to the kitchen, maybe try to read a few pages of my book.."

"Don't you sleep..?" I ask - "Not when I can smell a stressed Omega a few doors away. Remember the night you had your nightmare..? That's why I was awake.."

I gulp - "Sorry.. I didn't realise I was keeping you awake.. I can put blocker spray on" - "NO - No.. I don't want that..." he corrects his tone the second time.

"I - I don't want you not sleeping because of me.."

"It's fine. Just go to bed.." I nod, stepping backwards into my room. As soon as I move away from him and close the door, pain shoots through me.

"Fuckkk" I groan from behind the closed door, only noticing Kyle's note taped to the door as I stand behind it, now.

"You good..?" he is still outside, FUCK

I clear my throat.. "Yeah - Sorry, just another cramp.. I don't know why they're happening.."

I whimper again when another painful one surges through my stomach.

"Fuck this.. can I come in, Omega..?" He growls, hand already twisting the door handle, but pausing until he hears confirmation.

"Alpha.." I whine.

He takes that as consent. He steps into the room and bundles me into his arms, shushing me and cooing at me, instincts clearly in full control.

He lays me down on the bed, stepping towards the cupboard and pulling everything out, quickly reorganising everything so it was on the bed.

"Don't think we'd both fit in your little cupboard, little bird.." he grumbles.

"You're staying..?" I whimper, trying to reach for him.

"Yes, I'll stay - just tonight" he says as he turns the lights off and clambers beside me on the bed that I hadn't yet spent a single night on.

"Just tonight.." I repeat, as if to convince myself..

As soon as he settles near me, I roll myself closer to him and rest my nose against his neck and inhale. "Omega.." he warns me.

"Stop callin' me that" I whimper - "You need to accept it eventually.. might as well get used to it..." he grumbles back.

That isn't the reason, stupid. Every time he says it, I feel a rush of heat..y'know..

"s'not what I mean.." - "what d'ya mean, then, Omega..?" he taunts

Play him at his own game, mutt..

"Alpha.." I whimper into his ear. He squeezes my hip in response, growling. "Fuckin' minx.. Understood, loud and clear.."

*Simon's POV*

I could have claimed her there and then when she moaned 'Alpha' in my ear.

My cock twitches. Behave Alpha!

Don't ruin all the progress we have made tonight.. Don't fuckin' ruin it..

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I settle against Gho- Simon - and close my eyes.

I allow his scent to wash over me, totally soothing my cramps and making me feel safe, warding any nightmares away.

His purrs turn into soft snores at some point and I follow closely after.

*Kyle's POV*

I wake up at 6am, ready to try and restart my normal routine. My unplanned rut had only lasted a couple of days, thankfully. I leave Johnny and Cap, curled up against each other. I head towards the kitchen when I smell it.

Laika - she's been out of her room overnight. My stomach sinks - what if she'd ran away..? what if...

I'm sprinting back down the hallway in the direction of her room. I don't even bother knocking - opting to just push the door open. It was an emergency.

I don't expect to see her and Simon on the bed together. The perfect picture of peace.

I slowly back away, beaming ear to ear. A flame of hope ignited within me. She could stay. Become pack. She could be ours..

I jog back towards the pack room..

"Alpha.. Johnny.. wake up!!"

"What's the matter,Kyle?" John grumbles back at me.

"Both of you get up!! You've got to see this - C'mon, quickly.. MOVE"

"Christ - this better be important, Gaz.." - "It is, Cap.. C'mon"

I lead the way, Johnny already wide awake and bouncing behind me, sniffing the air, obviously picking up her scent.

"Shhh don't make a sound" I warn them quietly before I step into Laika's room. They were both still fast asleep.

Johnny pops his head around the door and practically drools at the sight. John purrs happily.

He steps forward and shocks me, by climbing into the bed behind Simon. Simon moves slightly but doesn't wake up.

Johnny takes that as an invitation and lays himself between John and Simon.

I step forward and brush a strand of hair from her face. Her eyes flutter open.. "Kyle..?" she whimpers.

"It's me, Love.. gonna climb in behind you, yeah..? Go back to sleep beautiful.." - she nods, turning in Simon's hold to face me.

As soon as I'm laid on the bed, she crawls into my arms and starts pushing her nose into my neck.

"Missed you, Alpha.. gone for so long.." she murmurs against me.. "Oh sweetheart, don't you remember..?" - she shakes her head softly in the crook of my neck.

"Simon says I went feral.. Omega.." - "Yeah, Love - you're an Omega, alright.. triggered us all into ruts..." I say, not able to help the shift of my hips against her.

"Sorry, Love - ignore it" I say, trying to move away and create distance, but the small bed wasn't made for five.

It doesn't matter anyway, because as soon as I try to move away, she pulls me back to her and hooks her leg around my hip.

"Christ, love. Don't move, yeah..? Just cuddle.. just cuddle" I try to convince the Alpha inside of me not to get too excited. She is lined up perfectly. One thrust and-

"Missed you.." she yawns, before resting her head against my chest and falling back to sleep.

Simon reaches around both of us and pulls us closer to him - inadvertently causing my knot to brush against her core perfectly. I groan quietly.

The last thing I hear is the Captain telling Johnny not to get jealous and telling me what a good boy I am..

[juniperss]

Just Looking Out

Bill Guarnere x Reader

Warnings:  harassment from a stranger, super predictable plot and cliche so be prepared for that, it’s long. lots of fluff at the end. Protective Bill 

A/N: This was originally written on my main account a few years ago but I decided to move it here since I don't change this URL as often and it makes easier to find my writing! Also It's been a while since I wrote these so I'd like to think that I've improved somewhat since then!

Bill watched as you led the way through the soldier filled bar towards the small booth in the back that was currently half occupied with various members of Easy Company. The ones that weren't dancing with strangers or mingling around the bar that is. He could see the game of darts unfolding across the way between Buck and Babe, the ribbing and cheers carrying over the other sounds. He wondered briefly how you were able to weave so expertly through the crowds, but any remark about it was forgotten when you glanced over your shoulder as you checked to ensure he was still there before smiling excitedly at him.

"Guarnere! Doc!"

Floyd greeted the two of you loudly, the mug of beer in his hand sloshing. He wasn't drunk...yet, but his large smile and enthusiastic conversation that he resumed with Shifty and one of the replacements hinted that he wasn't too far off from that goal.  Time to relax and have fun was few and far between during the chaos that surrounded the world right now, so much so that it was easy to forget how young you all were. And that there was much to life to enjoy. Such as watching your friends drink a bit too much while leaning into the back of a rather uncomfortable booth and sipping on your own beer. Bill was beside you now, his shoulder bumping into yours occasionally, as stories about training made their way into the conversation sparking groans, laughter, and many a question from the replacements on how bad Sobel had truly been.

"I'm gonna get another drink even if I'll regret it in the morning." 

You quipped as you scooted out of the booth and nodded your head towards the bar. You were able to easily make your way to your destination as the once large crowd had dispersed more evenly throughout the bar as the evening grew later.  Leaning against the bar you waited for your drink you surveyed the room with ease. The dancing had wound down leaving a handful of couples swaying slowly. The music playing from the radio was familiar and calming, with a steady beat that made it achingly romantic.  Meanwhile the game of darts had changed players but was still going strong between Toye and Perconte. You bit back a smile at the sight. A cough at your shoulder startled you, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as you turned your head quickly.

"Whoa there, dove!" 

The man was unfamiliar to you, dressed in civilian clothes with a mop of dark brown hair and scruff that was definitely not paratrooper regulation. Instinctively you moved to the left in an attempt to put some distance between the two of you assuming he had merely needed to place an order.

"Didn't mean to scare the pretty lady."

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from replying and continued to stare straight ahead watching the dart competition continue. Ignoring unwanted attention wasn't new to you especially in your time training. Being apart of Easy Company hadn't been easy, but you'd learned when to bite your tongue and when it was the right time to stand up for yourself.

"Lemme pay for your drink, to make up for the scare." It wasn't a question and that only made the offer more annoying to you. As if you had given any indication that you were looking for an advance from him or any form of conversation. After a deep exhale you turned to face him. He was even closer than he had been a moment ago, the gap that you had placed between the two of you now gone.

"No, thank you. I'm here with my friends."

The man glanced towards the direction of Guarnere and the rest of the gang at the table, eying the uniforms before looking back at you. His eyes sparkled in determination at the mention of what he presumed to be a challenge.

"They don't seem to be missing you too much. Share a drink with me and maybe you won't miss them either."

This time the offer made your stomach turn and despite your best efforts you felt a prickle of familiar fear and discomfort creep through you. Sure soldiers made comments, often times very rude ones that cut, but you had been fortunate that your company seemed to appreciate you for the most part. Easy Company seemed especially protective and respectful of you. It was jarring to not have that respect from a stranger 

"Really, I'm fine. Thank you." 

As if the heavens had parted the bartender finally pushed your drink towards you, your escape now gifted to you as if on cue. But as you reached for the cup the man grasped your wrist. Once again instinct worked faster than your mind and in one fluid motion you yanked your arm way pulling the glass towards you in the process. It shattered loudly on the ground, glass and beer spraying across the floor. 

"Been a while since a man touched you?"

His fingers were still around your wrist but the grip had tightened after your initial pull away. His words alone were enough to make you want to scream for him to leave you alone, but it was the look in his eye just about sent you over the edge into full panic. 

"You better fuckin' let her go." 

Bill was behind you and then suddenly he was between the man and you, his large hand coming to grab the man's arm. Bill Guarnere was eerily calm and somehow that was more terrifying then if he was yelling. You watched as his grip tightened and the man's grip on your wrist loosened under Bill's pressure. 

Apparently the scene of the drink crashing to the ground had gained the attention of not only Bill, but the rest of the soldiers. Buck was stalking across the room in your direction while you could see that Toye had followed Bill up to the bar. The man, sensing that he was clearly out numbered finally released your wrist and began to back up.

  But Bill didn't let go of his arm. His knuckles were white and you would visibly see the pain of his grip flash across the victim's face. 

"Nah, you're not goin' anywhere. Apologize to her." 

The man's mouth fell open slightly as he glanced between you and Bill as if he didn't understand the command, as if apologizing for crossing the line with a woman was a foreign idea. But Bill didn't budge and as the other soldiers seemed to begin to swarm, the man finally relented. "Sorry." The apology was choked, either because the words hurt to say or because Bill's grip was getting more painful (perhaps a mixture of both). As soon as his arm was released the man was gone, retreating to the other side of the bar to where a group of locals parted to let him lick his wounds in the dark corner. 

Sensing that the situation was resolved Buck and Toye nodded to Bill and you before returning to their tables leaving the two of you standing amidst the broken glass and beer. "Let's go, doll," his voice was hushed just for you and you felt the way his hand ghosted your lower back, "we can go." You allowed him to steer you out of the bar, the same way you had easily guided him through the crowd earlier that evening which suddenly seemed ages ago. 

Silence hung between the two of you and  you both inhaled the sharp fall air outside. The moon was bright providing enough light to see the path back to your lodgings easily. Bill's hand never left your lower back, yet didn't touch you, as you began to walk slowly. There was no urgency to your movements and you settled into a comfortable rhythm. "...thanks, Bill."

He scoffed. Not in a dismissive manner or in a mocking way, but rather in a way that would suggest he was waving off your thanks. "You could've handled it. I knew that when I stepped in. I was just....furious." 

"You didn't look it. It was kind of scary actually." 

This time he smiled, glancing down at you. When Bill got angry he was a rough and tumble kind of man. He used his words and his fists to get his point across, to defend the honor of his loved ones before his own. It was rare that you saw his silent anger and as you had said, it was a bit more scary than one would believe. 

"Still. Thank you for rescuing me." You gently jabbed his side with your elbow causing the both of you to laugh. One time when you'd first met he had made the mistake of attempting to rescue you from a situation that he had no business in and accidently gotten a bruised lip from you in return. Once again silence washed over the two of you, more comfortable than before. It didn't take long before you'd reached the house you were being quartered in. It was a small cottage owned by an elderly couple who reminded you of the couple back home in the states who watched all the neighborhood children with a careful and protective eye.

"Doll?" 

You glanced at him when he used the pet name you'd grown accustomed to. Grown to love, really. His fingers traced the bone of your wrist, as if to chase away the memories of the strangers grasp on you. His fingertips were calloused but his touch was surprisingly gentle in contrast, warm too. Without thinking you stepped closer chasing the feeling. 

"Goodnight..." 

His words seemed to fail him in that moment. Whatever words he had planned on saying hanging in the space between you as if suspended by an invisible string, swaying back in forth just out of reach of either of you being able to grab them in time. Yet you both knew what they were. You took another step forward, still following his touch on your wrist, his fingers now having completely encompassed it. The tenderness of his hand and of his eyes drawing you in closer and closer until you felt your chest against his.

Slowly, so slowly Bill leaned down to kiss you. Part of you had expected rough lips and strong eagerness, but instead you were met with rough lips and curious seeking behind his kiss. A curiosity that seemed to only been fed as he dropped your wrist and moved to cup your cheeks with both of his hands. Warmth coursed through your body, your mind full of fluff and your heart racing wildly. You could feel his own heart pounding against his chest through yours.

 And just as slowly as the kiss began, he moved away.

"Goodnight, Bill."

[captainsophiestark]

Mad Scientist

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day 5 Prompt: "You're the smartest person I know."

Summary: Kol's dating a scientist who's buried in college-level work and more than ready for a ridiculous, fun version of science for a break.

Word Count: 1,685

Category: Fluff, Humor

Shoutout/Credit to The Scientific American for the info on how Mentos-Coke reactions work!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Darling? What do you think would happen if I made pancakes with Mountain Dew instead of water?"

I paused, my pen hovering over the page in the middle of summarizing my findings for a lab I'd been working on at my university. I didn't turn around to face my boyfriend, Kol Mikaelson, who stood behind me in the kitchen, instead just staring off in thought for a moment.

"I don't know," I said, finally turning around to look at Kol. "As far as I'm aware, water's not one of the things like baking soda or eggs that's insanely important to the chemistry of baking. As long as you have the same amount of liquid, it should be fine. Maybe a little sweeter than normal, but basically still a pancake."

Kol grinned. "Excellent."

"What exactly brought this on?" I asked, standing from the kitchen table in the Mikaelson compound where I'd been working and wandering towards my boyfriend. "Just out of curiosity."

"Well you see," he said, holding his hands out in a grand presentation gesture and fixing me with a giant grin. "While I was getting the ingredients for making pancakes, I also found Mountain Dew. The rest is history."

"Interesting..."

I trailed off as I finally reached Kol, stopping so I could hold onto his arm and lean around him to look at the ingredients laid out on the counter, Mountain Dew included. My eyes wandered back to my books, still open and waiting for me on the table. I had no desire to go near them again right now, and this was the absolute perfect distraction. I looked back up at the grinning face of my boyfriend.

"Do you need any help?"

Within half an hour, Kol and I's initial experiment had expanded to encompass the entire kitchen and just about every ingredient we had in it. The Mountain Dew pancakes hadn't been much different than the regular pancakes, so we'd gotten progressively more creative in our ingredient substations, snacking on our successes as we went. My books lay long-forgotten on the table, Kol enabling my chaotic science tendencies in the best way possible.

"What if we put pop rocks in it?" asked Kol as he riffled through a drawer of sweet treats in one corner of the kitchen. I hummed to myself as I mixed our latest version, with orange juice instead of water.

"I don't know," I said. "I think we'll just get little pieces of candy in it without the pop, since the liquid in the batter would probably dissolve the candies enough to trigger the reaction before anything else. We won't know for sure unless we test it, though."

I finished stirring, then wandered over to join Kol. He'd set the pop rocks on the table along with a few other types of candies, and now stood in the open door of the fridge. I rested my head on his arm and hummed thoughtfully, until my eyes landed on something else interesting in the fridge.

"Since you've been back in the modern world... has anyone introduced you to the marvel of Coke and Mentos?"

Kol turned to face me, eyebrows furrowed but a smile on his face.

"No love, I can't say they have."

I grinned. "Then I can't wait to be the one to show you."

I snatched the bottle of Coke out of the fridge, snagging the Mentos and a piece of paper with tape too before plopping them both down on the table where we'd been mixing our batter. Excitedly, Kol joined me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Okay, so first we need to make the tube to hold the Mentos,  to make sure they all drop in at the same time when we want them to," I explained while I worked. I rolled the paper into a tube, covering one end with my thumb and then holding it out for Kol. "Put seven Mentos in there, please."

He complied, sneaking one for himself and then passing one to me. I looked over my shoulder at him, smiling, and he leaned in to give me a soft kiss.

"What's next, darling?" he asked, his voice low. I leaned back into him a little more, but returned my attention to the Mentos.

"Now, it's time for the reaction. Unscrew the lid of the soda, please." Kol took care of it, shifting a little behind me in anticipation. "Good. Now, I'm gonna dump these in, and after I do we're gonna step all the way back, okay?"

"Okay. And what happens after that?"

I shot him a grin over my shoulder. "Science."

With that, I put the tube of Mentos to the neck of the bottle, then quickly moved my thumb and let them drop all at once into the soda.

Kol's grip tightened on my waist as he used his vampire speed to get me to the far edge of the kitchen, hopefully out of the splash zone. A moment later, the reaction started, and the soda quickly bubbled and fizzed until it became a geyser, exploding out of the bottle. Kol gasped from behind me as it hit the ceiling, and I smiled.

The reaction didn't last very long, but once it fizzled down, it took Kol a minute to let me go and move to meet my eyes. He had a ridiculous grin on his face that I quickly mirrored.

"That was amazing, darling," he said. I practically glowed at the compliment.

"Thanks! It's really cool how it all works, actually. See, carbonated beverages are full of dissolved carbon dioxide gas, which wants to form bubbles and escape the pressure of the liquid. But to do that, it has to break its bonds with the water and interact with itself. Because the Mentos candies are actually covered in a bunch of tiny grooves, it makes it easier for the bonds between the carbon dioxide and the water to break, making the reaction of bubbles escaping the soda happen at a much, much faster rate!"

I'd started pacing a little, gesturing with my hands as I explained, but froze when I realized I'd been rambling for more than a little. I turned back to Kol with a grimace.

"Sorry. I know you probably don't care about how it works-"

"What? No! That was excellent, the way you explained everything!" He grabbed my hands in his as he pointedly met my eyes. "Darling, you're the smartest person I know. And it's absolutely incredible. Please don't ever apologize for the way your eyes light up and your voice gets all excited when you talk about something you love. It's one of my favorite things in the world to see."

I started tearing up a little bit at Kol's words, and as soon as he finished speaking I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me, kissing him, hard. He smiled into the kiss and wasted no time wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tighter to him. Finally, after a few long moments, I pulled gently away.

"As much fun as I'm having... I do need to finish the lab writeup for my actual science class."

Kol sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then fixed me with a devilish grin.

"Fine. As long as you promise to let me know anytime you have an experiment to do that I can sit in on."

I beamed back at him. "I promise."

Kol gave me a sweet smile, then leaned in and kissed me one last time. Despite the homework hovering in the other corner of the kitchen, I could feel Kol sucking me in and distracting me to the point that I didn't care about my work. I was just about to give in, too, when someone coughed loudly from behind us.

Kol and I turned around to find Elijah standing in the kitchen doorway, his eyes scanning the disaster zone the kitchen had turned into. Soda still dripped from the ceiling, and horrifying pancake mutations were spread on almost every surface.

Elijah sighed heavily, his exhausted stare turning back to me and Kol.

"I trust that this will all be cleaned up before the two of you run off to other activities? Preferably sooner than later?" he deadpanned. Kol scoffed, and I tried and failed to fight a guilty grin.

"Yes, Elijah. We'll take care of it," I said. He nodded once, pausing to stare at everything for an extra moment before shaking his head.

"Good."

With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen. Even without vampire hearing, I heard his heavy, long-suffering sigh from the other room. I turned to Kol and giggled.

"Oops."

"He loves it," Kol said confidently, waving me off. "We keep his life interesting."

"Well, that second part is definitely true. Come on, let's clean up at least a little bit of the mess. We need to do it at some point anyway, and I really do need to go back to my homework."

Kol booed and rolled his eyes, but moved to start helping me deal with the mess anyway. He picked up the now mostly-empty bottle of soda and held it thoughtfully, then turned to me with a glimmer in his eye that I loved.

"You know darling, if we pointed these in a specific direction for the reaction... we could probably shoot the soda at Elijah and the rest of my siblings."

I grinned. "We absolutely could do that."

We stared at each other for a few beats, nodding slowly, communicating without words.

"I'll superspeed cleanup," Kol finally said. I nodded.

"I'll finish my lab writeup as fast as possible."

"And I'll go get more soda and Mentos while you do."

I high-fived Kol as I crossed the room to retake my seat at the kitchen table and he turned into a vampire-tornado of cleaning. We had evil masterplans to enact, after all, and with the two of us working like a well-oiled machine, the rest of Kol's family and anyone else in this house didn't stand a chance.

****************

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[sgiandubh]

And kia... ora (?!) to New Zealand, like you've never seen it before 🤭

Just listened to Monica Gleberman's latest podcast with S. Twice. I can only urge you to do the same: it's 19 minutes long and well.. I'd just love to read your thoughts on it. By the way, I had no idea the woman even existed (happens a lot in SC world, at least to me) before she chimed in with indignation, you know... the Palestine Letter, and such.

But first, my short assessment, of course. By the way, this was recorded, I think, on November 1st, based on this X post:

Showbiz being showbiz, all grudge is now forgotten and you can listen to the podcast on Spotify, here (no subscription needed, of course):

OK, I honestly think her voice and her completely clueless, torrential debit are totally meh, but maybe that's just me. She made me think of one of those Tupperware representatives, always eager (hungry?) to sell something to you and do it quick, drug-dealer style. Some in Mordor thought she was drunk on the job (a half-emptied bottle of SS Gin was emphatically mentioned at least twice during the interview) - as usually, no humor and nasty.

I just think she was just acting too cool for school and #silly, with a severe case of ovaries going...

... on top.

Straight off the bat, the OTT praise is on steroids: how amazing S is, how he never changed, 'same sweetest person and like an amazing human being and friend to talk to and I just love you'. Kill me now, but that was unnecessary - yet still useful, since it prompted this answer (02:54):

'Well, that's very kind of you to say, but I think that's not true...I think there's...there's a lot of smoke and mirrors, this is ALL fake, um...underneath, there's a completely different human being. I have a double, actually. I AM the double. Um.. no, it's been a great journey, I'm very lucky and yeah, it's [OL] given me a lot of opportunities, as well (...).'

Translation: I am joking, but not even joking, if you see what I mean.

You'd think that was casual banter? You might want to think twice. Like all Taureans, bless their heart, S always almost heavily insists, when he wants to make sure the message gets across (07:12):

MG: ' Soooo, I don't know what's true, what's not true, but I'm just gonna assume that, you know, you looove watercolor. So, what is your favorite watercolor painting to make?'

Huh? Did I get that right? The answer does not match the clumsy question. At all. But see/hear for yourself:

S:' Err, you know what, I mean, I actually do, I actually have a couple paintings.. um.. from a..an artist called James Morrison, he was a Scottish artist.. he.. he actually painted a lot around Scotland, but he also painted up in the Arctic... the Arctic Circle... I'm kind of obsessed with him, so yes, this actually,,, this is truth...damn, I didn't know you'd actually put truths in here, but, you know...'

MG: ' OK, so we're already breaking barriers, right? Like revealing secrets so that is... that is... true.'

I shall not comment this. I do not think it needs any translation, to be honest.

The 'illiterate' S is, apparently, a keen art connoisseur and how could it be otherwise, if you only think of his mum? And Morrison is not just your average Scottish watercolorist. If you care to check his Wikipedia page (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Morrison_(artist), you'll find interesting things, like:

His works can fetch at auction (here at Christie's in 2006), around...

... and the recent (conservative) estimates are stable. You can check them here: https://www.invaluable.com/artist/morrison-james-1932-9fybkaiqbc/sold-at-auction-prices/. A very good investment, on a volatile, whimsical market (I know very well what I am talking about).

Surely enough, some of you will just hear that horrendous cackle and the flirt fest that totally goes south by the end of the podcast. But maybe - just maybe - if you listen a bit more carefully, you'd have a rare peek behind that damn mask.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XVIII.

GIF by joelsteinfeld

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Things come to a head during the full moon.

WORD COUNT: ~14.2k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: angst, very brief slut shaming, not one but two confrontations, fist fiiight, gun violence, light descriptions of gore, religious imagery, character death (not main so y'all can breathe), more of that crime stuff, smut, p in v sex, fluff i think, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that i'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: strap in you guys, this emotional rollercoaster is... something! i'm in the process of moving so updates will be slowwww <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Leaving her proves to be difficult the following morning. The rain continues its steady rhythm outside, a drizzle now compared to the torrential downpour of the previous night. Javier hadn’t expected to fall asleep, especially not through the entirety of the night. It’s been so long since he’s slept without being plagued by nightmares or restlessness.

Something about her presence softens the sharp edges of his anxieties. With her in his arms, he finds a peace he hasn’t known in years, and now he doesn’t want to go another night without her by his side.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing softly against her bare shoulder, savoring the warmth of her skin one last time before he carefully begins to slide out of bed. He’s done this before— quiet exits in the early hours of the morning— but this time feels different, like he’s leaving behind a piece of himself.

As he moves, Paloma stirs slightly, and he freezes, unwilling to disturb her slumber. His eyes drift to the plush snake he had won for her at the fair, now lying forgotten on the floor. The sight of it tugs at something deep inside him, a small smile playing on his lips.

So, he grabs it from where it fell off her bed and lets it replace his spot next to her, hoping that it’s enough to make up for his absence. 

After redressing, he makes his way to the bedroom door. He pauses just before leaving, casting one last lingering look over his shoulder. His eyes trace the outline of her form beneath the sheets, admiring, before seeing his way out. 

The house is still, save for the gentle patter of rain against the windows. The grandfather clock in the hall ticks softly, its hands edging closer to six in the morning. He lets out a slow breath, his steps careful and quiet as he enters the room he was originally supposed to stay in to grab his duffel so he can get ready for the day.

Throughout his morning routine, Javier’s thoughts are consumed by Paloma. He stands under the warm stream of the shower, amazed at how she can take the discomfort of being exposed and vulnerable and transform it into something he’s no longer hesitating to embrace.

The barriers that once fortified around his heart seem pointless now, as all he wants is to let her in— to let her glimpse into his tumultuous mind with the hopes that she’s able to quiet it down. 

As he shaves and brushes his teeth, his mind drifts to the possibility of bringing her home to Laredo. He can already picture her there, fitting in as if she’s always belonged. Her southern twang and radiant smile charming everyone instantly. He imagines the way her golden heart would win over his gossipy aunts, and he can almost hear his cousins’ teasing jabs about Javi bringing home someone way too pretty to be with him.

And Chucho— he’d probably insist that his son make an honest woman of her before someone else tries to sweep her off her feet.

He realizes then, with startling clarity, that he has no intention of letting her go. It’s enough to make his pulse quicken, love blooming in his chest with an intensity that does scare him just a little.

He finishes buttoning up his uniform shirt and catches his reflection in the mirror. A scoff escapes him, “How about you date her first before jumping the gun,” he mutters under his breath, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he clasps his silver watch around his wrist. It’s both a chastisement and a reminder to pace himself, even though his heart is already racing far ahead.

As soon as he steps out of the bathroom, the smell of freshly brewed coffee pulls him toward the kitchen, where he finds Romeo leaning casually against the island, still in his sleepwear, a steaming mug in hand. The sight of him in such a relaxed state shouldn’t make Javi nervous but it does.

That’s just what happens when you harbor secrets.

“Morning.”

“Mornin’. You get some rest?” Romeo replies, his tone easy and conversational.

Some of the best goddamn sleep I’ve gotten in years he thinks but Javier just nods, “I did. Thanks for letting me stay the night. It got pretty rough.” A double entendre that threatens to pull him into inappropriate memories— the way Paloma’s mouth had felt on his cock, the sound of her soft gags, the perfect arch of her back as he fucked her. The images flash vividly in his mind, tempting him to lose focus.

This is not the time, not with her dad standing just a few feet away, unaware of the perverse thoughts swirling inside Javier’s head.

He sets his bag down by the entryway, trying to push the tantalizing recollections aside as he engages with the sheriff, hoping his face doesn’t betray what’s really on his mind.

“No problem. Didn’t bother me none, I was out like a fuckin’ light the second my head hit the pillow.” he rasps, sliding a mug over to Javier.

They chat about their plans for the day, the conversation flowing easily until Romeo excuses himself to get ready. With his drink in hand, Javier steps out onto the front porch, leaning against one of the wooden pillars. He gazes into the distance, where the rain has settled into a gentle mist and the morning sun remains hidden behind a shroud of gray clouds.

Upstairs, Paloma stirs awake, the familiar plush clutched to her chest.

But no Javier.

His absence, while expected, still hits a sore spot in her heart. Yet, as the memories of their passionate night together flood her mind, they balm that ache, warming her from the inside.

A soft smile curves her lips as she recalls the way his hands had felt on her body, the stretch of him inside of her, and the other phantom sensations of their lovemaking that still linger.

She shifts slightly, rubbing her thighs together in a futile attempt to quell the lingering stirrings of desire he manages to elicit. It’s annoying how effortlessly he can provoke her without being anywhere near.

Then she feels the soreness between her legs and at her shoulders from him pinning her hands behind her back while he ruthlessly took her.

She rolls over, pressing her nose into the pillow he slept on, and inhales deeply. The faint scent of his cologne lingers there, and she hums softly in contentment. 

Wanting to catch him before he leaves, Paloma tosses off the blanket, her naked form exposed to the cool morning air. She stretches luxuriously, a small grunt escaping her lips as she feels the delightful tension in her muscles. Her first impulse is to throw on his flannel, but with her dad still around, she decides against it. 

Instead, she makes her way to the dresser, choosing a more appropriate outfit. After freshening up in the bathroom, she takes the stairs two at a time, her heart racing with anticipation.

She hears the sound of the shower running, but it fades into the background as she spots his silhouette through the screen door. The sight sends a thrill through her, and she bites her lip, struggling to contain the broad smile that threatens to spread across her face.

The door creaks softly as she pushes it open. Javier, expecting to see Romeo, turns his head. The moment his eyes land on her, an electric jolt has him straightening up. His entire body responds to her presence.

“Good morning, officer,” she purrs, closing the door behind her. Leaning against the pillar opposite him, she lets her gaze shamelessly trace over his uniform-clad figure.

Her eyes linger on the authoritative stance that makes him look so irresistibly manly and commanding. Now that she’s had a taste of him, all Paloma can think about is how she’d love to drop to her knees and indulge him whenever he’s around.

“Miss Leighton,” Javier acknowledges with a slight jut of his chin, lifting his steaming mug to his lips. The move hides the small, knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Maintaining a façade of casual indifference, she asks, “Did you have a good night?”

Javier’s eyes narrow, just slightly, as he glances toward the house, checking for any potential eavesdroppers. “Decent,” he replies, keeping up the pretense, the tension between them already winding tighter.

Paloma’s tongue flicks across her teeth, her eyebrow arching. “Yeah, that bed in there ain’t exactly the most comfortable.”

A few seconds of charged silence stretch between them before she pushes off the pillar, closing the distance. “What time did you end up leaving?” she asks, tone soft, trailing her finger slowly down the center of his chest. She gazes up at him through thick, fluttering lashes, her touch light but electrifying.

“Six.”

Her heart stutters as she processes his words, realizing he spent the entire night with his arms wrapped around her. “Really?”

Javier nods, captivated by the way her eyes seems to hold him in a spell. She licks her lips as she leans up to place a quick, teasing peck on his. The fleeting contact serves as a clever distraction as she deftly snatches the drink from his hand and steps back, taking a sip, her face scrunching up in disgust as the bitter taste hits her tongue.

She quickly hands it back to him. “Ew, of course you drink yours black. You could try not being such a cliché,” she teases with a playful grimace. Javier exhales a soft laugh through his nose, shaking his head.

He uses the exchange to pull her back into his embrace, setting the mug on the thick wooden railing of the porch. “Don’t be mean, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing her properly, one hand cupping her cheek and the other on her waist.

She sighs against his lips, butterflies in her gut fluttering and she might lift her leg like in the movies. His kisses are so thrilling, so perfect, that she reluctantly pulls away before things get heated and she has him reenacting the first wet dream she ever had about him— the one where he fucked her right here on this porch.

“Am I going to see you today?” Her mouth is already forming a disappointed pout, as if she knows the answer before he even replies.

“Unfortunately no,” his thumb gently brushes over her full bottom lip, “Trust me, I don’t like it either but we’re busy as hell.”

She kisses his thumb, “What y’all got goin’ on?”

“Helping clear roads all morning. There are still people in town without power, and they don’t expect to fix it for a few more days, so we’re checking in to make sure everyone’s okay.” He explains, squeezing her hip in a reassuring gesture.

“And tonight?”

Javier’s face reflects the weight of the responsibility he carries. “It’s a full moon tonight. After we wrap up in town, I’m hauling all the case files from my place to the station. I need to prep for a big debrief with all the officers in the county. We’ll be patrolling as soon as curfew starts. If I’m right— he’ll be out tonight.” He pauses, letting out a long, steady breath, his resolve palpable. “I want to catch this motherfucker so bad.”

Paloma hears the steely determination in his voice and nods in understanding. “Y’all will. Been workin’ so hard on this, honey. Even if it’s not tonight or tomorrow or whenever; you’re doin’ the best you can.”

He offers her a small smile, one that she mirrors with a tenderness of her own. They lean in at the same time, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. “Thank you, nena,” he mutters. “You gonna be at home all day?”

“Yeah, with the weather and curfew tonight, I’d rather just stay in,” she answers, “I’ve got some stuff to work on, too.” She’s been writing about him. Inspiration struck her unexpectedly, as it often does, and she’s been refining his song ever since. She wonders if he’ll like it, and if his reaction to her playing the piano was any indication, she feels optimistic.

Javier is relieved to hear that she’ll be safe and at home. “Good. I’ll call you when I can to check in.”

“And I’ll be waiting by the phone, very eager to answer on the first ring.”

She giggles, scrunching her nose habitually and he swears he can feel his heart swell so big that it almost erupts out of his chest. “If I don’t end up getting home too late,” his voice drops to a lower, more seductive timbre, “maybe we can revisit one of those sexy little phone calls again?”

Her breath catches at the sultry tone, a faint throbbing sensation stirring between her legs, despite the soreness, and she squeezes her thighs together. “Absolutely,” she breathes out, hell— she’ll stay up just to have his voice in her ear, directing her to touch herself.

As if drawn by the magnetic pull of their shared desire, his hand slips boldly from her waist, descending to cup her ass before giving it a light, playful spank. The gesture makes her flush with excitement.

“Great, now let me grab my stuff before your dad comes out here and sees me all over you like this,” Javier says, his voice teasing but edged with urgency.

She gives him one last kiss, pulling away, her eyes following him as he retrieves the mug, finishing off the last sip of coffee then head inside.

As anticipated, Romeo appears not a second later, dressed and ready to tackle the long ass day they have ahead.

“Hey sweetheart,” her dad places a kiss to the top of her head, descending the porch steps, “Dunno when I’ll be home. Got a lot goin’ on today. I’ll have the phone on me at all times if you need anythin’, ‘kay?”

She nods, smiling at him, “Be careful.”

“Always.”

Javier comes out shortly after, his hand discreetly brushing against hers as he passes, a final, sweet touch until he’s able to make time for her again. The sound of their footsteps fades as they move down the driveway, leaving Paloma standing alone on the porch.

Determined to keep herself occupied, she turns and heads back inside once they’re gone, feeling his absence keenly. The memory of his touch, the warmth of his kiss, and the promise of their next encounter weave through her thoughts, making it a challenge to concentrate.

Yet, she remains resolute, channeling her energy into her work, each note of the song a testament to the feelings she has for him.

All eyes are on Javier as he stands before the gathered crowd. The small sheriff’s department is packed, not just with his own officers but with personnel from surrounding towns, each of them united by a single, pressing goal. Whether they’ll achieve this goal tonight is uncertain, but it’s better to act decisively than to remain idle, waiting for something to happen.

He wraps up his briefing, his voice steady as he delivers the final instructions. The room buzzes with a tense energy as the officers disperse, each heading off to prepare for the night ahead. The rain outside continues, a literal reminder of the metaphorical storm that they’re up against. He hopes the weather won’t deter their assailant; but criminals with such precise, obsessive patterns rarely stray from their habits, rain or shine.

Thanks to the extra helping hands, the files from Rome have been organized and filed away, leaving Javier with a rare sense of order. He walks over to his desk, where a lone manila folder sits. It contains the remnants of his surveillance on August and his group, back when they were his prime suspects in the investigation.

They’re an odd bunch, and the deeper he dug into their past, the more their story seemed to make sense. Misfits who grew up in the worst parts of their hometown, subjected to abusive or neglectful parents. Their rebellion was almost predictable— an inevitable backlash against the suffocating piety they were born into.

There is something off about them, something that sets off alarm bells in Javier’s mind. But despite his instincts, he could never find anything that linked them to the crimes that have haunted this corner of Texas.

For a long time, Javier wrestled with the idea of coincidences, aware of his tendency to chase them down just to fit his narrative. He knew that this bad habit often undermined his hard work, leading him down paths that wasted precious time and energy. This folder, filled with days wasted and dead ends, is a tangible reminder of that flaw.

But he likes to think he’s gotten better about that. Better at not being so reactive right off the bat.

Amidst the photos of the three young adults, there are a few that stand out and make his stomach twist. Paloma, caught in the frame, August’s hands all over her, sitting on his motorcycle, a joint between her fingers. He had considered bringing them in for the drug use alone, but he knew that making a move, especially during that rough patch with her, would have done more harm than good.

There’s no reason for him to hold onto this anymore; the folder likely got lost in the shuffle, buried beneath a mountain of others that he hadn’t had the time or energy to sort through until today. He’s set on shredding its contents when his phone rings.

Reaching to unclip it from his utility belt, he brings it up to his ear.

“Peña.”

“I didn’t call at a bad time, did I?” Her voice is like honey and he loses composure for a second.

“Hold on, baby.”

Setting the folder aside, Javier glances around the busy workspace before slipping away. He walks down the hallway, making a quick left into the interrogation room.

“Palomita, you okay?” Javier asks, a hint of concern creeping into his voice. He’s a little confused as to why she’s calling. Not that he minds— he never does— but his first instinct is to worry that something might be wrong.

“Just fine, cowboy. I’m bored… ‘n missin’ you, s’all.” Her soft drawl seeps through the line, melting him entirely.

He scratches at his brow with his thumb, trying to play it cool. “Missin’ me already? I just saw you this morning,” he teases, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips as her airy laugh dances through the phone.

“Pathetic, I know.”

He hums thoughtfully. “If you think that’s pathetic, then I’d hate to hear how you feel about me missin’ you all the time.”

“Oh, that’s just pitiful ‘n wretched. I’m disgusted, really.” He hears her shuffling and wonders what she’s doing. If she’s laying in her bed, twirling the phone cord around her pretty little finger or if she’s leaning against the wall with her lip between her teeth.

“So, you just called to tell me you miss me and then to chastise me. Got it,” he quips, though her laugh— bright and genuine— makes his chest ache in the best way.

“As flattering as this all is, sweetheart, I hate to leave you but we’re getting ready to head out. Your dad is waiting for me.”

He can almost see the downturn of her lips when she responds, “Okay. Just wanted to call before I didn’t hear from you for ‘nother three to five business days.”

“I promise to take you out again soon. Maybe this time I’ll actually get to fuck you in the bed of my truck.”

“Oh, please don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’ll follow through, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, alright?”

A few more teasing exchanges pass between them, her giggle ringing in his ears like a melody he never wants to end. When she finally lets him go, there’s a noticeable lift in his mood.

She just has that way about her— making him feel like he’s carrying a piece of her warmth with him wherever he goes.

Javier heads back to the others, his mind still lingering on the sound of her voice. He’s ready to dive into the action, to focus on the task ahead—but then, without warning, a powerful force slams him into the wall.

The impact knocks the breath out of him, his shoulder searing with pain as he struggled to regain his footing. It’s Romeo, his face twisted in rage, and before Javier can react, his fist connects with his jaw, sending a sharp pain radiating through his skull. The taste of blood floods his mouth as his lip splits open, and the world seems to tilt for a moment, the sounds around him dulling to a low roar.

“You think you can fool around with my daughter after I’ve been nothin’ but fuckin’ nice to you? Let you into my town after all your shit in Colombia?” His voice is a guttural snarl, laced with betrayal and fury. He doesn’t wait for an answer, his hand gripping Javier’s collar and shoving him harder against the wall. “I welcomed you into my home, and this is how you repay me?”

The room falls into a stunned silence, the officers who had been preparing for the patrol now frozen, their eyes wide as they watch the two men— men who have been working tirelessly side by side for months— erupt into violence. Some of them move forward, trying to pull the sheriff off Javier, but he’s like a man possessed, shaking off their attempts to restrain him.

“I knew somethin’ was goin’ on but I refused to believe it could be this. Never thought you’d screw around with her. Not after I entrusted you to look after her! I practically handed her to you on a silver fuckin’ platter!”

Javier’s own anger flares in response, his hands coming up to shove Romeo away, but not with the same force. He knows he should keep his mouth shut and take it. He shares some blame in this mess, but the words spill out before he can stop them. “I’ll admit I fucked up, but I’m not going to stop seeing her.” This sends the other man lunging forward but he manages to swiftly dodge him. “She’s a grown-ass woman that can make her own decisions— be with whoever she wants. Do whatever she wants.”

Romeo’s eyes blaze with an almost feral intensity at the back talk, and he lunges again, fists flying, and this time, they collide with Javier’s ribs, causing him to grunt in pain. The scuffle is a mess of limbs and rocketing emotion, the room filled with the sound of grunts, curses, and frantic shouts of the officers trying to pull them apart.

It isn’t until the sheriff shoves Javier hard against his desk that the chaos comes to a sudden halt. The force of the push sends the lone folder on the desk flying, its contents spilling out in a haphazard mess onto the floor.

For a split second, everything seems to freeze as the photos flutter down like damning evidence, landing face up for everyone to see.

Hs daughter, in those compromising, intimate poses with August. The silence is deafening as Romeo’s gaze zeroes in on the pictures, his expression shifting from rage to something far darker and unreadable.

His face twists in disgust, leaning down to collect it all before turning on his heel and storming out of the building, shoving past anyone in his way. The door slams behind him with a thunderous crash that echoes in the shocked silence.

Javier stands there, chest heaving, blood leaking from his lip. The officers around him are still, their eyes shifting between him and the door the sheriff had just disappeared through. 

“We leave in ten minutes.” Javier announces roughly. They listen to him instantly, snapping back into what they were doing before the scuffle broke out.

He reaches for the phone, dialing the Leighton home number, his heart pounding in his chest.

Ring.

“Come on, come on…”

Ring.

“Pick up, fuck. Please…”

But there’s nothing. Just the monotonous drone of an unanswered call. His grip tightens around the plastic, dread curling in his chest. At least their relationship is out in the open now; if there’s a silver fucking lining to this mess, he supposes that’s it. 

He calls her a few more times with no luck.

She’s lost in her own world, pacing the porch with her headphones snug over her ears, her eyes closed as she lets the music wash over her. The rhythm guides her steps, mind drifting far away from herself.

The sheriff’s truck skids to a halt in front of the house, wet gravel crunching under the tires. He doesn’t even bother shutting the door as he storms up the porch steps, the folder clenched tightly in his fist.

She doesn’t hear him approach, not until his rough hand grips her shoulder and spins her around.

The shock of seeing her father’s face, twisted in anger, has her yelping out. She quickly pulls off her headphones, the music falling away as she takes in the sight of him. “What’re you doin’ here?” Her voice is laced with confusion, brows furrowing. He wasn’t supposed to be home until much later— what the hell had happened?

Romeo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he thrusts the folder at her, his jaw clenched so tight that the muscles in his neck bulge. “What the fuck is this, Paloma?”

She blinks rapidly, her confusion deepening as she rids herself of her portable CD player, opening the folder. Her breath catches in her throat as she sifts through the photos.

Her stomach drops when she meets his burning gaze. “Where did you get these?” she whispers, barely audible.

Romeo lets out a dark, humorless chuckle that has a chill running down her spine. “Don’t matter where I got ‘em. What matters is what the hell you were thinkin’ gettin’ involved with trash like him! And doin’ drugs?!” He’s seething.

The venom in his voice stings. “Daddy, it’s not what you think—”

“Not what I think?” he interrupts, voice rising. “You think I’m blind? Stupid? I know about you and Javier too.” The name comes out as a snarl, his eyes flashing with betrayal.

Her face blanches. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“He’s the one who had these!” he roars, temper boiling over. “Javier was keepin’ tabs— hid them in his damn desk while he was screwin’ around with you behind my back. I can see it comin’ from him, but from you?”

The weight of his words slam into her like a freight train. She knew that he would blow up and act rash, but this is nothing like what she anticipated. “Daddy, listen to me—”

“No, you listen to me!” he shouts, stepping closer, face inches from hers and she stumbles back slightly. “This is why I don’t trust you to be out on your own. Why I have to keep an eye on you— because you can’t make sound decisions. You’re reckless, you’re—” He cuts himself off, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he tries to rein in his anger.

Paloma’s emotions erupt in retaliation. “Reckless?” she shoots back, shaking with anger and hurt. “I’m suffocatin’ in this damn house. Puttin’ my life on the back burner so I can keep you content instead of doin’ what makes me happy. You treat me like a child, like I can’t think for myself!”

Romeo’s face twists with contempt, the harsh words tumbling out before he can stop them. “Because you’re actin’ like a damn whore!”

The insult hangs in the air, a bomb that has just gone off between them. She feels as if the ground has been ripped out from under her, his words echoing in her ears like a cruel taunt. 

It shouldn’t surprise her, it really shouldn’t. He has a history of making sly comments such as these, especially when it came to what she wore.

But to hear him say the actual insult? Spitting it in her face in such a disgusted tone?

Her vision blurs with tears, but she refuses to let them fall. Without another word, she shoves past him, her heart pounding in her ears as she flees into the house. His furious shouts follow her, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back.

Her room feels like a cage, the walls closing in on her as she yanks open her closet and grabs a suitcase. She can’t stay here— not after this. The tears finally spill over as she starts packing.

Romeo’s heavy footsteps pound up the stairs, each one like a hammer driving nails into her chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?” he demands, banging on her bedroom door. “Paloma, open this door right now!”

She ignores him, her heart aching with every item she throws in. She doesn’t have a plan, doesn’t know where she’s going to go, but she knows she has to leave.

When she finally has everything she can carry, she steels herself, taking a deep breath, and yanking the door open. Her dad stands there, his face red, but she doesn’t give a fuck. She moves past him without a word.

“Paloma, stop!” he pleads, following her down the stairs and into the hallway that leads into the foyer, “What would your mother think of you acting like this? This is not the daughter she would be proud of!”

The mention of her mother brings her to a screeching halt, and she whips around, her eyes shimmering with a fiery spark. “You don’t know shit about her!” she spits, venom dripping from every word. “Who she was, what she felt— the things she went through.”

“And you do?!” 

Oh, how she’s tempted to unleash everything on him right here, to reveal the divine blood that courses through her veins— the same sacred lineage that had flowed through her mother’s. But he wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t grasp the significance. It’s crystal clear to her that this has always been about control. She could tell him a thousand truths, and he would still remain unchanged.

Determined, she ignores him entirely and turns to push open the screen door. The keys to her car are tucked away in the visor, waiting for her.

“Come back here!” exasperation peaks as he rushes to catch up with his daughter. His hand latches onto the handle of her suitcase, pulling it— and her— back toward him. She cries out in frustration, fiercely trying to reclaim it, but he overpowers her with his strength.

Their struggle becomes a frantic dance, the suitcase flailing uncontrollably. In their chaotic clash, it catches on the iridescent wind chime that has hung on the porch for years. The chime crashes to the ground, splintering into a million glinting fragments.

The soft tinkling of broken glass and metal join the sound of her choked sob, and she fights the urge to fall to her knees.

She and her mother used to spend Sunday afternoons crafting wind chimes together.

They would hand them out at church or when they visited town. Paloma cherished the joy of giving, the way people’s faces would light up at receiving something she had poured her effort into, guided by the one person who loved and believed in her unconditionally.

Her skills and creativity come from her mother, who never allowed her daughter to be idle. She was always engaged in some project or another, her hands and mind constantly at work.

This particular chime was the only one she had left to remember Abeline— Calmana— whoever she was, by, having gifted away the others. Paloma stopped making them after she passed away.

Romeo stares down at the broken, sentimental item, his face a mask of shock and grief. 

She shoots him a glare full of disdain, her voice quivering. “No wonder she killed herself.”

The words hit like a physical blow, a gaping wound in both of them, the kind that can’t be mended. Romeo opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. He can only watch, frozen in place, as his only daughter turns her back on him and walks away, victorious in claiming her bag.

At what cost?

Her footsteps are urgent and unyielding as she hurries down the driveway, her suitcase bumping against her leg with every stride. The darkness of the night surrounds her like a shroud, but she doesn’t look back, the pain too raw, the burden of what just transpired is almost unbearable.

She flings her belongings into the back of her car and slides into the driver’s seat, her hands shaking as she starts the engine. She drives off, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

She drives aimlessly at first, but the familiar streets soon lead her to Tammy’s house. Her heart feels like it’s been ripped apart, each beat laden with pain. The sobs she’s been holding back break free, and she cries, gut-wrenching cries that echo in the car as the miles between her and the house grow.

By the time she pulls up to Tammy’s, she is drained, her body exhausted with the aftermath of her tears. She barely has the strength to step out of the car, but she does, walking up to the familiar door. The weight in her chest is so intense, it feels like it might drag her down.

Tammy opens the door, her eyes widening in shock as she takes in Paloma’s tear-streaked face. Without a word, she pulls her inside, enveloping her in a warm, comforting embrace. She guides her to the couch and sits beside her, rubbing soothing circles on her back, not caring that she’s wet from the weather.

She explains what happened, her voice cracking with every word. The fight, how it escalated, how her father had berated her and, worst of all, how her mother had been dragged into it, something that made her feel small and worthless.

Tammy’s anger rises, “I oughta go over there myself and put his ass in place. The hell was he thinkin’?” her voice is fierce, but it’s tempered with genuine concern. Her eyes flash with indignation, reflecting her deep sense of protectiveness for Paloma. She and her sisters have always treated her like she was their own.

Paloma shakes her head, too exhausted and emotionally drained to engage in further conflict. “It’s okay. I just... I need to make a call.” She nods understandingly and directs her to the landline, giving her a moment of privacy.

Paloma picks up the receiver, her fingers trembling as she dials Javier’s number. When his voice finally comes through, it’s like a lifeline. She struggles to keep steady as she explains the situation again, but her emotions betray her, and she chokes up several times.

“Javi, I just... I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped up in his arms right now.

He listens patiently, his concern evident in his tone as he reassures her and tries to provide comfort through the phone. He doesn’t tell her about his own confrontation, solely focused on making sure she’s alright.

“There’s a spare key to my place taped inside of the mailbox. Use it to let yourself in. I’ll be home as soon as I can, cariño.”

Paloma clings to his words, letting them anchor her as she fights to calm her racing thoughts. Just talking to him makes her feel a little less broken.

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

Javier knows it’d be unprofessional to ditch his patrolling assignment, especially with tensions running as high as they are tonight. But after everything that’s unfolded— he’d rather be with Paloma than driving around the deserted backroads of town.

His anger bubbles up, hot and unforgiving, at what Romeo had said to her; the same vile insult he had spat at her under the gazebo when he was trying to push her away. 

To hear it come from her own father? He can’t even imagine how she must feel.

His jaw aches, a dull thudding reminder of the blow that had landed earlier. It’ll definitely bruise. Javier works it gingerly, lip throbbing from being split open. 

It tears him apart inside. He would take a dozen more beatings, hell, a hundred, if it meant sparing her from any kind of hurt. He’d do anything— anything to take away her suffering, to replace it with the love and respect she deserves.

The radio in his cruiser crackles to life, pulling him back to the grim reality of his job. The voice of an officer comes through, tense and urgent. “Twenty-four-year-old Samantha Hardesty has just been reported missing by her parents. Window to her bedroom was left wide open. There are signs of a struggle.”

There it is. The threat that’s been looming over their heads, now taking a tangible, terrifying shape.

His grip tightens on the steering wheel as a surge of adrenaline sharpens his senses. He calls out instructions over the radio, directing officers to the Hardesty home, dispatching others to canvas the surrounding areas. His heart pounds in sync with the rain tapping against the windshield, the urgency of the situation momentarily overshadowing Paloma.

The cruiser’s tires hum over the slick asphalt, carrying him further into the darkened outskirts of town. He’s crossing the abandoned railroad tracks when something catches his eye— a car parked awkwardly on the shoulder.

His gut lurches, a cold dread seeping into his veins.

Slowing down, Javier flips on the blue and red lights, the beams carving through the murky darkness.

He parks, his every nerve tingling with tension. There’s no movement inside the vehicle, no sign of anyone nearby. But his instincts are screaming at him that this isn’t just a coincidence.

He grabs his tactical vest from the passenger seat, slipping it on with practiced efficiency, the familiar weight a small comfort. With the vest secured, he steps out of the car, the rain immediately soaking into his uniform as he cautiously approaches the idle vehicle, his boots crunching against the gravelly road.

His hand moves instinctively to his sidearm, fingers curling around the grip of his pistol as he draws it, keeping it at the ready.

Brown eyes scan the surroundings, every shadow a potential threat, every sound amplified by his heightened senses. The soft rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant hum of the running engine of his cruiser.

Approaching the car from the rear, he announces himself in an authoritative tone, only to be met with silence. The windows are fogged over, making it difficult to see inside. He circles around to the driver’s side, gun pointed, when he notices the door is slightly ajar.

With a deep breath, Javier reaches out, nudging it open with the tip of his boot. It swings slowly, the creak of the hinges tears the silence like a scream. Inside, the car is empty, but the front seat is stained with something dark— blood.

“Fuck!”

He inspects further, the inside of the car is empty, offering no clues about the owner or what might have transpired here. Frustration gnaws at him as he quickly jogs back to his vehicle, grabbing the radio to request backup.

The nearest unit shouldn’t be too far out, but every second feels like an eternity as he waits. He shrugs on his windbreaker to shield himself from the downpour, the cold clinging to his clothes, chilling him to the bone.

The wind howls through, bringing with it the distant echoes of thunder, adding to the ominous ambiance.

Javier’s eyes continue scan the surrounding area, every sense on high alert. The soaked ground is uneven beneath his boots, the mud sucking at his feet as he moves cautiously.

Then he hears it— rustling. It’s faint, but unmistakable, and not the kind caused by an animal scurrying by or the rain brushing against the leaves. This sound is different, deliberate. His pulse quickens, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

He swings the flashlight towards the source of the noise, his other hand steadying the grip on his pistol. The beam of light cuts through the rain, illuminating the thick brush ahead. His breath catches in his throat as he comes face to face with a tall man, a few years younger than himself, emerging from the shadows.

The man’s eyes gleam with a sinister calm, but it’s what he’s holding that sends a pang of terror through Javier. The girl— Samantha Hardesty— is clutched tightly in his arms, her face pale and streaked with tears, a large gash running across her stomach.

She trembles, barely able to stand on her own, and Javier’s eyes widen once he sees the gun pressed against her temple, the metal gleaming wickedly.

He knows he has to be careful— one wrong move, and she’s dead. The man’s expression is cold, calculating, as he watches Javier. The tension is so tense, it feels like a physical barrier.

Standing before the person who’s terrorized the community for so long feels almost surreal.

“Put the gun down,” Javier orders, low and steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. His eyes flick to Samantha, her terrified gaze locked onto him, pleading silently for help. He takes a step closer, his movements cautious.

The rain pounds against them, the droplets like bullets hitting the ground. The silence is suffocating, broken only by the sound of her sobs and the assailant’s labored breathing.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Javier warns, trying to keep the man’s focus on him, to buy time until backup arrives. But the man doesn’t flinch, his grip on the girl tightening as he shifts the gun ever so slightly, pressing it harder against her temple.

“Let her go,” he continues, his tone coaxing, though every muscle in his body is coiled, ready to spring into action. “We can figure this out, she doesn’t need to get hurt.”

The man’s lips curl into an unsettling smile, and Javier’s stomach pinches. He’s seen that look before—the look of someone who’s already made up their mind, someone with nothing left to lose.

“Get back,” the man hisses, taking a step back. Javier can see the madness in his eyes, the wild, desperate edge that makes him dangerous, unpredictable.

Javier doesn’t move, doesn’t dare take his eyes off him. Every second that ticks by feels wasted. He can hear the faint wail of sirens in the distance, but he knows they’re still too far away to help. It’s up to him, right here, right now, to keep this situation from spiraling into tragedy.

The grip on the gun is unsteady and for a moment, it seems like he might surrender. But then, in a flash, the man makes his move.

The night explodes into chaos as the shot rings out like a cannon blast in the storm. The force of the bullet slams into Javier’s chest, knocking the wind out of him as he’s sent staggering backward. Pain radiates through his body, but it’s dulled by the protective padding of his tactical vest, which absorbs most of the impact.

He hits the ground hard, rain soaking into his clothes and mud splashing up around him. His vision blurs, and he presses a hand to his sternum.

Then, through the fog of shock, the adrenaline kicks in. His heart pounds in his ears, louder even than the rain or echoing gunshot. He gasps, drawing in a ragged breath, and forces himself to move. The man is running, dragging a terrified Samantha with him, and Javier knows he can’t let him get away. 

He grits his teeth, pain shooting through his chest, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. There’s no time to dwell on it. He has to plow on, has to stop the man before it’s too late. 

The beam of his flashlight flickers wildly as he races through the rain-soaked woods. Lightning splits the sky, illuminating the twisting branches overhead, casting jagged shadows on the path ahead.

Gunshots ring out through the trees, the man firing blindly behind him. The bullets whiz past Javier, too close for comfort, but he doesn’t falter. He fires back, his shots precise, but the man dodges them with maddening ease. The trees blur by, branches clawing at his face as he barrels through the undergrowth, the ground uneven and treacherous beneath his feet.

He can feel his frustration mounting with every step. Despite being so close, he can’t seem to close the gap between them. The man is quick, too quick, and the darkness only adds to the challenge.

His lungs burn with the effort. He thinks of all the cigarettes he’s ever smoked and curses himself for each and every single one of them, for every breath that now feels harder to catch.

Just as he’s starting to think the chase will never end, the man veers off the path, disappearing into a thicket of trees. Javier skids to a halt, eyes narrowing as he spots a faint light ahead. He follows, heart thudding, and emerges into a small clearing where an old, decrepit shed looms out of the darkness. The door hangs ajar, swaying slightly in the wind.

He’s methodical as he presses himself against the side of the structure, peering inside. 

Nothing.

He doesn’t hesitate and kicks the door open. It’s empty, save for a few rusted tools and decaying wooden beams. But then his flashlight picks out a hatch in the floor, half-concealed by dirt and debris.

He hesitates, the radio on his belt crackling to life with the voices of his fellow officers. They will be here soon, but he doesn’t have the luxury of waiting. Every second counts. If the man gets away, or worse, if he decides to end the girl’s life down in that tunnel... Javier can’t live with that. 

Bracing himself, he grips the hatch and heaves it open, descending into the darkness. The air is damp, the scent of earth and decay prominent. His light reveals narrow, dirt walls as he makes his way down the tunnel, every step echoing eerily in the confined space.

It’s quiet— too quiet— and that only makes his pulse race faster. The oppressive silence only broken by the sound of his own breathing.

Then he notices the glow of candles lighting the way ahead. The tunnel opens up into a larger chamber, and what he sees stops him dead in his tracks. The room is filled with religious iconography—crosses, statues, relics—but all twisted, defiled.

Candles flicker on every surface, casting long shadows across the walls, which are plastered in what looks like pages of the bible, the symbol he’s seen in the Rome files and on the scrap of flesh in the vomit of their earlier victim scribbled over them.

The air is thick with the stench of rot, and in the far corner, a large, stained cooler hooked up to a generator hums ominously. 

Javier’s flashlight passes over a series of weapons laid out on a crude altar. The whole scene feels like something out of a horror movie, but this is no set. This is real.

And then he sees him. The man who led him here, standing on the other side, holding Samantha in front of him like a shield, the gun still pressed firmly to her head. Her eyes are wide with terror, her body trembling uncontrollably, blood seeping out of the wound on her torso.

Javier stops in his tracks, his gun trained on his target. They’re both panting, chests heaving as they stare each other down, drenched in rain and mud. The man’s eyes are feral, but there’s something else there too— something dark and fanatical, a madness that Javier knows he can’t reason with.

“Let her go,” Javier commands like he had in the woods, “I’m not going to tell you again.” The man doesn’t respond, a twisted smile playing on his chapped lips.

“One small move,” he grumbles, his voice low and menacing, “and her pretty little brains are goin’ to paint the fuckin’ walls.”

Javier’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t doubt him for a second, He knows what this fucker is capable of.

He can’t risk a shot— not with Samantha so close, not with the man ready to pull the trigger at the slightest provocation.

Then, in a move that catches Javier completely off guard, the man pulls the gun away from Samantha’s head and tosses her aside like a ragdoll.

Instead of dropping the weapon, he brings it up to his own temple, his sinister grin never faltering.

“Don’t!”

“It’s all for her,” the man mutters, almost to himself, as if Javier isn’t even there. Those three words confuse him, but then it all happens so fast— too fast for him to intervene, to stop it.

The man pulls the trigger.

The gunshot reverberates through the enclosed space. His lifeless body hitting the cold, damp floor. Blood pools around his head, mixing with the mud and grime.

Samantha lets out a broken sob, and Javier rushes forward, holstering his weapon as he drops to his knees beside her and shields her from the scene.

She’s shaking uncontrollably against him, her eyes wide and unseeing, her face as pale as death itself. Javier wraps his arms around her, pulling her close despite the ache from the bullet he took.

“It’s okay,”  he whispers, though the words feel shallow in the face of what’s just happened. “You’re safe now.” 

The heavy weight of the case can finally be shed— no more victims, no more suffering. But something about how it unfolded tonight doesn’t sit right with Javier. The way it all fell into place— it was too perfect, almost as if it was orchestrated just for him.

Officers swarm the area, flashlights illuminating the darkness as they descend into the tunnel. He directs them with sharp, clipped orders, ensuring the chamber is thoroughly searched and every piece of evidence is documented. The place is a nightmare— literally, and the cooler... God, the cooler.

Its contents are going to be a nightmare for the forensic team to identify— human remains, some fresh, others in varying states of decomposition. 

Javier is all too familiar with the grotesque depths of human depravity. The narcos had brutally educated him on it, but still, it doesn’t make witnessing it any easier.

It will undoubtedly tie the now-deceased man to their and potentially other unsolved cases. And yet, there’s no satisfaction in the discovery, only a cold, hollow feeling in the pit of Javier’s stomach.

When he emerges from the tunnel, the scene outside has only grown more chaotic. Police, ambulances, and news reporters all converge by the abandoned tracks where everything set off. The press, hungry for details, hound the officers, their questions blending into a cacophony of noise that Javier tries to block out.

He stands off to the side in an attempt to finally catch his breath; chest heaving with the remnants of adrenaline. The rain has stopped, but the ground is a mess of mud and puddles, the dampness clinging to everything.

He watches as Samantha is loaded into the ambulance, her small frame dwarfed by the large stretcher. Her expression solemn, still reeling from what she’s faced. The paramedics speak in hushed tones, their movements quick and efficient, wrapping her in a thermal blanket before shutting the doors.

Javier winces slightly as he removes his vest, and a paramedic walking by stops, concern etched on her face. “You should get checked out too,” she says, gently guiding him to the back of another ambulance. He waves off her concern but doesn’t resist as she sits him down, shining a light into his eyes, checking his pulse.

“Everything looks fine,” she says after a moment, her tone professional but kind. “You’re going to have some serious bruising where that bullet hit— your vest took the brunt of it, so you’ll be sore for a while.”

He nods, hardly listening. His mind is somewhere else, his thoughts tangled. The weariness settles into his bones as the paramedic presses an ice pack into his hands, guiding them up to the spot he was hit at.

“You’re lucky,” she adds. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”

Javier grunts in acknowledgment, his gaze drifting when a cluster of reporters move from the officers and over to the sheriff when he makes his appearance, their cameras flashing, microphones extended towards him. He’s trying to answer their questions, his expression tight, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining composure.

Their exchanges over the radio have been minimal, strictly professional, with an edge of bitterness.

The tension between them is prominent, an unspoken rift that neither man seems willing to bridge. Javier catches a glance from Romeo, but it’s fleeting, their eyes barely meeting before the sheriff turns back to the reporters.

Exhaustion begins to nestle within his body. He’s done enough tonight— enough to get by, enough to wrap up the loose ends so that he can leave this hellish scene behind. 

He stands up, handing the ice pack back to the paramedic with a nod of thanks. His eyes scan the scene once more— officers hauling the perpetrator’s dead body into the back of a coroner’s van, forensic teams combing through the area, the reporters still badgering Romeo for answers— but none of it holds his attention. His mind is already elsewhere, already focused on where he needs to be.

Only one thought remains clear. Paloma. He needs to be with her, hold her, to reassure that they’re okay, that she’s okay. The thought of her is the only thing that makes sense right now, the only thing that matters.

Without another word, he turns and starts walking, ignoring the looks from his colleagues, the murmured questions. He heads for his cruiser, slipping into the driver’s seat with a wince as his chest protests the movement. The rain has left the interior damp and cold, but he doesn’t care. He starts the engine and pulls away from the chaos.

Thoughts swirl in a disjointed mess that he cannot qualm, and it isn’t until he’s pulling into his driveway that he remembers— he didn’t call her. He should’ve checked in, caught her up on everything.

But the sight of her car parked in his driveway, the soft glow of light from his bedroom window, fills him with a wave of relief. She’s here. She’s safe.

He exhales a long breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension as he steps out of the car. His body aches with every move, but he preserves. He just needs to see her.

Javier is careful as he enters, muddy and wet, his clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He kicks off his boots by the door.

Calling out her name, his voice is rough from the night’s exertions.

“In here,” her voice beckons from the hallway, a honeyed reply that tugs at his heart. He follows, brows furrowing as he nears the bathroom. When he steps inside, he’s greeted by a sight that almost undoes him.

She is in the bathtub, bubbles covering her body, her hair piled into a messy bun with loose strands clinging to the damp skin of her neck. The bathroom is warm and filled with the scent of lavender, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh world he’s just come from.

She turns to look at him, her eyes widening as she takes in his disheveled appearance— his busted lip, the small cuts from twigs lashing at him during the chase, mud and rain still clinging to him.

“Javi, what happened?” she asks, concern lacing her words.

He steps closer, crouching, eyes tracing the lines of her face, taking in all her natural beauty. His gaze shifts to the mug on the edge of the tub, the scent of whiskey faint but unmistakable. He notices the glassy look in her eyes, the way she blinks slowly.

She’s drunk.

“Querida,” he murmurs, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “How much have you had to drink?”

Paloma narrows her eyes at him, her tone edged with defiance even in her inebriated state. “I asked you a question first.”

There’s a beat of silence, his throat bobbing. Finally, Javier lets out a sigh, slumping his shoulders as he answers. “It’s over. We got him.”

He explains what transpired and Paloma listens. Her eyes widen, her breath catches, disbelief and concern paint her expressions when he tells her about the tunnel, the chase, the way it all ended so abruptly.

She brings one hand from under the water to take hold of his, the warmth of her touch enough to settle his frayed nerves.

“It’s over,” he repeats, more for himself than for her. “No one else is going to get hurt.”

She nods softly, her fingers tightening around his before she slowly pulls away. “Join me,” she murmurs in a gentle invitation.

Javier chuckles, glancing skeptically at the small tub. “Baby, I don’t think I’d fit in there even if I tried.” His words are light, but the way her gaze holds his makes the excuse falter on his lips, the sentiment dying as quickly as it was born.

With a resigned sigh, he stands, the soft pop of his joints barely audible over the quiet splash of water. His hands move to undress, and when he gets to his shirt, the fabric falls away to reveal the dark, angry bruise on his chest. The instant Paloma’s eyes land on the mark, she gasps, her concern evident.

“Javi—”

“The bullet I took,” he brushes off her worry with a soft grunt. “It looks a lot worse than it is.”

But the look etched across her face pulls him closer, and he bends down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, the contact lingering longer than intended. “I’m fine. I promise.”

She shifts to give him space when he steps into the tub, the water sloshing gently around his bigger frame. Despite the tight fit, they settle opposite each other, their legs brushing beneath the surface.

Once he’s seated, Javier reaches out, gently pulling her leg towards him. He presses a soft kiss to her ankle, his lips warm against her skin, before he begins to knead the tension from her calf with strong, skilled hands.

“Where the fuck did you get lavender-scented bubbles?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement, aquiline nose grazing her wet skin as he trails soft kisses up to her knee.

Paloma lets out a light, drunken laugh, her head tipping back as she revels in his touch. “Tammy gave ‘em to me when I left her place. Told me to take a bath and that it’d make me feel better.”

“And?” he asks, his deep brown eyes flitting up to meet hers.

“Feelin’ better now,” she breathes, the contentment in her voice mirrored in her relaxed posture, reaching over for the cup.

Javier’s hands still momentarily as he repeats his earlier question, “How much have you had to drink?”

“Dunno. Maybe like two mugs’ worth.” She hiccups, a small, sheepish smile playing on her lips.

His gaze moves to the mug she clutches like a treasure. “You know I have glasses specifically for that, right?”

“Yeah, but I thought this mug was quirky,” she says, holding it up for him to see, as if it wasn’t already familiar to him. It’s the one Steve had given him— a tacky gift after he had accidentally broken the one that usually sat on Javi’s desk back at the embassy.

He remembers his partner saying something about how Javier survived on coffee, cigarettes, and cunt— the Holy Trinity. Steve would always accompany this jab of his with a wink and a teasing grin.

He can’t help but laugh at the memory, shaking his head slightly, “Of course you did, hermosa.” His tone thickens with affection as he resumes his gentle massage, the tension in his own body beginning to ebb away as he focuses on her. Funny how that works.

A gentle silence envelops them, the kind that speaks of comfort. Paloma breaks it with a soft, but probing question, “Now that the case is closed… does that mean you’re leaving?”

The question manifests like a heavy mist, and Javier’s hands still on her leg, his fingers lingering before he slowly lowers it beneath the water.

He hadn’t wanted to face this moment, had told himself he wouldn’t think about his departure until it was staring him in the face. But now that it is, now that it’s here, he finds himself utterly uncertain.

Of course he wants to stay with her, to pursue this relationship that feels like it could be everything he’s ever wanted. But with the tangled mess of issues between them and Romeo, the barely restrained animosity that is bound to fester— it’s hard to see a clear path forward.

“Dunno,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as his head tips back to rest against the cool tile of the wall.

Paloma shifts from her relaxed position, sitting up then setting the mug aside, and his heart skips a beat, worried he might have upset her.

“You don’t know…” Her brows knit together, confusion and a touch of hurt evident in her eyes. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Javier takes a deep breath, searching for the right words. “You’re the only thing that’s keeping me here, palomita. I’d only stay for you. Fuck everything else.” His voice is tender, full of the raw truth of his feelings. Reaching out, he strokes her cheek, his fingers leaving a trail of fluffy bubbles in their wake.

“You want the God honest truth?” She nods eagerly and he continues, “I go where you go. If you want to stay here, then I’ll stay here. If you want to leave, then I’ll leave.”

Warmth spreads through her chest, filling the space where doubt had started to creep in. She nuzzles into his hand, her eyes searching his, “You mean that?”

Javier’s gaze holds hers, steady and unwavering. “Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His sincerity makes her feel both cherished and understood. “So you would go anywhere? Just for me?”

He hums softly, nodding his head. There’s no hesitation, no hint of doubt in his eyes— just that familiar, endearing glint that always melts her heart, the one that tells her how much he loves her, how much he’s willing to do for her; even when his words can’t.

“I wanna leave Seminary,” she admits, statement spilling out with a quiet determination. It’s something she’s been feeling for a long, long time— more now after everything that’s happened with her father.

Javier isn’t surprised. “Yeah? And go where?”

She averts her gaze, a shy smile playing on her lips as a blush creeps up her cheeks. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Now why the hell would I do that?”

Paloma bites her lip, her fingers twiddling nervously beneath the water. “‘Cause it’s a little silly. Somethin’ I’ve been dreamin’ of since I was a teenager…”

He gives her a look that says keep going, I’m listening.

“Wanna head west, towards California,” she finally breathes out with a wistful longing. “Stop along the way. See the deserts and mountains. Have a house on the beach so every mornin’ I can walk outside and put my toes in the sand and work on my music. That’s my dream.”

He can see it so vividly— the two of them driving through vast and differing landscapes, the wind in her hair, her laughter filling the car, and the sun setting over the ocean as she strums her guitar on the beach. It’s a beautiful dream, one that tugs at his own restless spirit, one that makes him want to chase it right alongside her.

He leans in, brushing his lips softly against hers, tasting the promise of their future on her mouth. “Then let’s go.” he whispers in a tender vow. “I’ll come with you if you’re sure it’s what you need.”

She needs it as much as she needs him. Paloma’s eyes shine, a mix of joy and disbelief that he’s so willing, so ready to follow her wherever she wants to go. She kisses him, her heart soaring with the knowledge that she’s not alone in this, that wherever her aspirations take her, he’ll be right there by her side, loving her, supporting her, and making her dreams his own.

Javier feels a tide of emotions crashing over him as he sits there in the warm bath, her presence filling every corner of his being. The night has been brutal—his body aches with the bruises of the chase, his chest still sore from the angry bullet, but it’s the weight of everything that they’ve been through together that overwhelms him the most.

He looks at her now, tipsy and beautiful, bubbles clinging to her soft skin, her eyes half-lidded with affection, and it hits him just how much he loves her, how much he’s loved her since that moment on the ferris wheel.

They’ve overcome so much, so many hurdles he put in place that could’ve easily torn them apart, and yet here they are, in each other’s arms, in this intimate moment that feels like the culmination of… well, everything.

His nose grazes hers, his breath fanning over her face as he tries to find the words that suddenly feel so urgent to say. “Palomita…” he murmurs, tightening his hold on her, as if she might slip away if he doesn’t. “I was going to wait until after I talked to your dad and make it a whole big thing but…”

She stares at him expectantly, unsure of what he could possibly say.

“I want you to be my girl,” the statement is laden with weight of his feelings. “No more wondering, no more holding back. Just you and me, together.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he fears he’s said too much, that he’s somehow scared her off. 

But then her lips shift into a soft smile. “Your girl…” she likes the way that sounds. “There are worst things to be.” She jokes but her answer is clear as day. Of course she wants to be his.

The relief that floods through him is almost dizzying, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He leans in, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s slow and tender, a kiss that’s filled with the promise of everything they’re committing to.

As their lips meld together, the tenderness quickly ignites into something far more passionate. She tries to be mindful of the cut on his lip but he doesn’t seem to mind, the faint pulse all drowned out by the sweetness of her mouth.

He shifts his weight, adjusting their position as best as he can, sliding himself between her legs, the warm water swaying around them as he pushes her up a little further in the tub.

Javier’s hands slide down her body, fingers tracing the curves of her waist before finding her full breasts, cupping them gently, his thumbs brushing over her nipples that peak under his touch. The feel of her soft, soapy skin beneath his calloused hands sends a shiver of need wracking right through him, and he feels his length stirring, poking against her thigh.

Paloma’s breath hitches, her lips parting with a soft moan as she presses herself closer to him, her own hands moving to cradle his jaw. Her kiss turns desperate, tongue sliding against his with a fervor that matches the growing heat between them. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, body instinctively seeking his in a way that leaves no doubt about what she wants.

His cock glides between her folds, hips twitching instinctively from the friction and her thighs clamp around his hips at the feeling.

“Javi,” she whimpers against his lips, “Need you to take me right here.”

His hands roam everywhere they can reach, squeezing and groping as he holds her steady. He doesn’t respond with words, just a deep grunt when she rocks her hips against him purposefully. 

“We’re gonna make a mess,” he nips at her chin, moving his heated kisses down to her neck.

Her nails dig into his shoulders, as if to anchor herself to him. “Don’t care. Just fuck me.”

The bathwater spills out of the tub, as if proving his point, but neither of them get hung up on it, completely swept away by the lust that overcomes them.

Strong hands grip her hips as he lines himself against her entrance, the anticipation of sinking inside her making his dick twitch. He pauses for a moment, brown eyes locking with hers, wordlessly seeking her affirmation. And when she nods, her eyes dark with desire, he pushes into her, a low groan escaping his lips at the way her pussy clenches around his cock like she was made just for him.

Paloma’s mouth parts in a breathless gasp, eyes fluttering shut as her head tilts back, arching into him. The blissful sensation of him filling her leaving her utterly overwhelmed in the best way possible. Javier leans in, kissing along the column of her throat, his lips pressing against the pulse point that races beneath her skin before biting down, groaning at how sweet she tastes.

His movements are slow, savoring every second, every flutter of her sweet cunt and being so connected to the woman he loves.

Their rhythm builds, his pace increasing as their bodies move together in perfect harmony, soapy water splashing everywhere as they lose themselves in each other.

“You feel like fuckin’ heaven, my sweet girl.” He grunts against her, the praise having her walls viscerally clench around his girth, a whiney moan of his name getting stuck in her throat and he coaxes it out by snaking his fingers down between them to rub at her clit.

The atmosphere hums with the sound of their heated panting and moans, unbridled desire pours forth with every touch, every kiss, every stroke.

Javier’s hands are restless— caressing her breasts, gripping her hips, cradling her face as he kisses her deeply, passionately, desperately, like she’s the very air he needs to breathe. The sharp pang in his chest draws a wince, her eyes widening with concern, but he quickly dispels her worry by hiking her legs higher on his waist and driving into her deeper.

“Oh my god,” Paloma clings to him, her fingers threading through his hair, her nails raking down his back, pulling him even closer and deeper, until they’re both on the edge, teetering on the brink of an earth-shattering orgasm.

“So good, Javi, I’m about to come.” 

He growls, her words fueling him to increase the intensity of his thrusts and bringing forth his own orgasm. His thick fingers to return to her swollen clit, trying to get her there so they can come together. “Good girl, give it to me. I’ve got you.”

And when they finally reach that peak, when the pleasure explodes at their cores like fireworks, it’s not just a release, it’s a culmination of everything they’ve become together.

He doesn’t pull out, burying himself to the hilt as her pussy milks every ribbon of cum from his throbbing cock.

It’s love in its purest form, raw and intense and beautiful, and as they come down from that high and hold each other in the aftermath, their hearts still pounding, their breaths still mingling— he knows it’s the only place he’d ever want to be.

“Really testing that birth control,” Javi murmurs, his voice low and teasing as his tongue glides across her jaw. He lingers there for a moment before his lips find the sensitive spot beneath her ear, sucking a possessive mark into the softness.

“You sure are,” she breathes out, feeling more intoxicated by him than by the whiskey she had earlier. “Told ya I was on it once ‘n you haven’t looked back since.”

He bites down gently on her collarbone, a playful growl rumbling in his chest. “Want me to stop?”

“Nuh-uh,” she replies, a mischievous expression on her face as she shifts beneath him, her body pliant and eager. “Love bein’ full of you.”

A satisfied smirk finds its way onto his mouth and he moves to kiss her. The cramped space of the bathtub and awkward angle finally begin to take their toll on him. His lower back spasms, but even that doesn’t get him to pull out of her. He loves the feeling of her warmth wrapped around him, it outweighs any of the discomfort.

“We made a big ‘ol mess,” she giggles, peering over the edge of the tub to see the water that’s splashed out, soaking the floor. The small disaster only adds to her delight, her laughter filling the small bathroom.

Javier chuckles, his breath warm against her neck as he shifts slightly, trying to ease the strain on his back. “Worth it,” his lips brush against her ear, hands sliding up to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples.

Her laughter fades into a soft moan as she arches into his touch. Leave it to him to flip the mood from playful to horny.

He leans back just enough to catch her gaze, “Can’t get enough of you,” he admits, voice low and husky.

“Then don’t,” she retorts, her fingers trailing down his back, nails grazing his skin just enough to make him shudder.

“Don’t think my back can handle another round in here.”

She opens her mouth, ready to make a teasing remark about his age, but he sees it coming, quickly bringing one hand up to cover her mouth. “Don’t,” he warns, a smile playing on his lips.

Her eyes narrow playfully, and she licks his palm, making him tut at her. His hand slips away, replacing it with his lips in a quick kiss as he eases his soft cock out of her which has them both letting out a breath.

They let the remaining bathwater swirl down the drain before starting the shower, the warm spray washing over them, actually bathing this time. Paloma’s fingers trail gently over Javier’s chest, lingering on the large bruise that has already begun to darken beneath his tanned skin.

Her eyes then travel up to the bruise on his jaw and the gash on his lip that she’d momentarily forgotten about in the heat of their fucking. A frown tugs at her lips as she reaches up to trace the wound with a feather-light touch. “I take it Daddy didn’t take the news of us very well,” she murmurs with resignation as she tries to picture the scene he must have caused at the station. She wonders how the hell he even found out.

Javier shrugs, his expression unreadable as his hands follow the curves of her body, moving with a tender reverence as he lathers the soap across her skin. “The ass beating was partially deserved,” he admits. “Would have been worse, but he stopped once he saw the pictures…” He pauses, studying her face for a reaction, but she doesn’t give him one. Her eyes flutter closed as he continues to wash her, the gentle motions of his hands soothing away the lingering tension.

“I shouldn’t have taken them in the first place. They weren’t necessary,” he continues, even though his mind tells him to shut the fuck up. “I was just pissed because of how things were between us at the time. I was chasing after August,” his voice hardens as he says the name, “trying to find something, anything, to tie him to what was going on. But that proved to be pointless real quick.”

Paloma hums softly, her expression indifferent as she lets the water cascade over her. “It’s okay, honey. Bygones are bygones. I wasn’t really myself while I was with him, anyway.”

Javier’s curiosity stirs, tempted to ask more, to dig deeper into the mystery of what exactly went on between her and August. He knows so little about the inner workings of his collective, only that it’s a group of troubled minds that reject traditional religion and never stay in one place for long. It explains their absence from town, how they disappeared without a trace after the Fourth of July celebration.

But he doesn’t press, not now at least. All he wants is to forget as much of today’s bullshit as he can and just enjoy her.

They work in quiet harmony, the sound of the soft patter of water against tile soothing. Once they’ve rinsed away the last of the suds, they reluctantly step out of the shower.

Paloma’s eyes trail over him, his toned back and firm ass catching her attention as he grabs towels for them. The sight of him is a welcome distraction, and she bites her lip, appreciating every inch of him as he moves.

They sidestep the water, making their way to his bedroom to find something to wear. She snatches one of his shirts from the closet, slipping it over her head. The fabric hangs loosely on her frame, but the way it falls just right on her curves makes Javier pause, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of affection and desire.

“C’mon,” she teases, breaking the spell once she slips her panties on, “we gotta clean up before we go to bed.”

With a playful groan, Javier nods, and they head back to the bathroom. They move around each other easily, laughing and joking as they clean up the floor, using his shitty mop and some of his other towels to get it done. 

“You know,” he says with a grin, wringing out the mop, “if this law enforcement thing doesn’t work out, I could see us starting a cleaning business.”

Paloma smirks, rolling her eyes in mock disbelief. “Oh yeah? Javier Peña, professional crime fighter by day, janitor by night? Astronomer on the side?”

He chuckles, giving her a playful nudge with his hip. “Something like that.”

She shakes her head, her smile widening as she tosses another towel into the pile. “Well, I’ll give you this—you’re pretty damn good with that mop.”

They continue their lighthearted banter, the task of cleaning becoming less of a chore. When they finally finish, the bathroom is restored to order, the floor dry and the towels piled up in the hamper. Javier leans against the doorframe, watching Paloma as she wipes her brow, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the shower and the exertion of their playful cleaning.

Without a word, he reaches out, tugging her gently towards his bedroom. 

She follows willingly, her fingers entwined with his as they cross the threshold and slip into his bed. She lets her eyes scan over his handsome face and all the small wounds. Her smile falters slightly, eyes softening.

“I don’t wanna go back home. Not yet,” she confesses, voice small.

Javier pulls her into his lap and she straddles his hips. “You can stay here as long as you want. Take it one day at a time. If you need to go back for anything, I’ll go with you.”

“Playin’ house with you, huh? Sounds like fun.”

He chuckles softly, cupping her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “Yeah, well, we’ll see how you feel after a few days of my cooking. Or my obnoxious snoring at night.”

The lightness of their conversation is a balm to her nerves, and she leans into him, pressing a kiss to his nose. “M’sure I’ll survive.”

Javier’s expression turns thoughtful, his mind not fully able to move on from today’s happenings. “I’ve got this weird feeling about tonight,” he admits, brows furrowing slightly. “The guy down there in that chamber… he said something. ‘It’s all for her.’ I don’t know what he meant by it, but it doesn’t sit right with me.”

She tilts her head slightly, looping her arms around his neck loosely. “He was twisted, Javi. Don’t let him mess with your head. Whatever that meant— it’s irrelevant now. He’s dead. It’s over.”

He nods slowly, but the unease lingers in his eyes. “Yeah… you’re right. It’s just… something feels off.”

“Sleep on it,” Paloma offers, her fingers weaving through the curls at the nape of his neck as she tugs gently, her body not-so-subtly grinding down on his lap. The warmth between them begins to intensify. A slow, simmering desire. “Maybe you won’t feel this way tomorrow.”

Her words seem to pull him back from the edge of uncertainty, grounding him. The doubt that lingered in his mind begins to fade as his cock twitches against her, feeling the soft pressure of her body moving against him. “You’re just trying to shut me up so you can get some,” he teases, his lips brushing against her jaw, the scent of his body wash clinging to her skin and making his head spin.

She tilts her head back, offering more of her neck, her breath hitching as she keens beneath his touch. “Maybe… Is it a crime to want to fuck my boyfriend?” she replies in an airy breath. The title of boyfriend makes his heart jump and he’s all but ready to take here right here and now.

Their lips meet, the kiss deep and consuming as her tongue slips into his mouth, taking control in a way that makes him follow her lead. His hands find their way under the shirt she’s wearing, fingers tracing the smooth skin of her hips, pulling her closer.

When they break apart for air, Javier keeps her close, foreheads resting together. “I meant what I said about California, Paloma. I’ll go anywhere with you.” His voice is soft, but the conviction in it is unmistakable.

She smiles, heart swelling with so much affection she feels like it might burst. She knows there’s still so much shit that needs to be sorted out, especially with her father. The path ahead isn’t without its challenges. 

But for the first time, the oppressive burden that’s weighed on her shoulders seems lighter. She feels the freedom to chase the aspirations she’s held onto for so long, the dreams that have lived quietly in the back of her mind.

Mother’s history be damned. Father’s control be damned.

She’s ready to step into her own future, to grow and blossom into the woman she’s always known she could be, with a man by her side who’s willing to go to the ends of the earth to make her happy. His own happiness is intertwined with hers, his satisfaction stemming from seeing her thrive.

“Okay,” she finally whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, her words a soft echo of his own. “Then let’s go.”

[uncannily-adroit]

the watch

eighth doctor x gn!reader

rating: g

warnings: none

a/n: i wrote this as a little comfort drabble for myself, i haven't written properly in over a year but i'm actually really pleased with this! eight certainly needs more love too <3

"Doctor, do you want me to wash your coat?"

He looks down at himself for the first time since he stepped foot outside the TARDIS. After a lively- or deathly, almost, in this case- adventure, his green velvet frock is covered in mud. He smiles a little, happy you noticed, because he probably wouldn't have until it was too late and there was dirt everywhere. "Thank you," he murmurs to you as he slips it off his shoulders. "Just empty the pockets, please."

You nod in response and head off, taking a few twists and turns down to where the laundry room usually is, setting the coat down on top of the washing machine to dig around in the nooks and crannies. You pull out his sonic screwdriver first- you set it aside to take back to him once you're done. Then a half-eaten paper bag of jelly babies. You swipe one- maybe two... maybe three, because that's the magic number. Then a yoyo, some lock picks, a spare TARDIS key in a funky shape on a ridiculously long chain, and lastly, a silver fob watch.

Something about it catches your attention. It's rather unassuming, honestly, a plain little thing, but you decide to open it anyways. The watch face is also pretty normal, but the noise that comes out of it isn't. Instead of ticking, you hear a tinkling sort of noise, like wind chimes. A pleasant chill runs down your spine, soothed in a deep way by it.

The Doctor's already made tea, yours waiting next to the comfy red chair, and he's preparing to start doing a bit of work on the TARDIS, making a move to grab his sonic screwdriver. He pats himself lightly multiple times, trying to find it, before he remembers he'd given you his coat. That makes him realize how long you've been gone. He figures you're wandering around one of the closets again; he found you one time practically submerged in a box of old scarves, happy as could be. He heads off in the direction of the laundry room, opting to check there first.

He finds you laying on the floor, thankfully with nothing wrong with you. Next to your ear lays his fob watch, open and playing its little songs. He can't help the smile that crosses his face. "What are you doing?"

"Vibing," you respond. "It's so pretty..."

He lets out a laugh on a breath and walks across the tile, settling himself on his back beside you. You look over at him and he meets your gaze, the smile still lingering on his face. His hair's spilling in his eyes; you push it away, and he captures your hand and presses a kiss to your palm before releasing you. "Do you want to know how I got that?" He nods his head at the time piece between you two. You nod. You always want to know more about him. You could listen to him for hours, and he can talk just as long. The chiming becomes background noise as he starts his story, still laid on the floor with you, the coat and sonic forgotten on top of the washing machine.

Eventually, your back does begin to hurt. You sit up, stretch and snap crackle pop. He grins, pleased by the sight of you from behind with an arched back. He follows suit, picking up the watch. He snaps it closed, looks at it for a moment, then takes your hand and presses it into your fingers, closing them around it. "Here. I've got plenty, and this one makes you happy. I'd like you to keep it."

Your heart skips a beat, fingers tightening around the cool metal and underneath his cold fingers. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

[shortandslytherin]

Snowed In (Neville Longbottom x Genderneutral!Reader)

A quick little blurb for Christmas! I wanted to write something for me and all my Neville lovers out there. It's nothing special or long. Just a quick cute fluffy story.

Request: Yes/No

Summary: It's Christmas and the reader is snowed in with their boyfriend, Neville Longbottom. The couple spend the day inside cuddling and drinking hot chocolate.

Warnings: Christmas, mention of Neville's parents, established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader's looks are unspecified, and gender neutral pronouns

Y/N looked out the window and saw the snow coming down rapidly and immediately felt the chill in their bones. They were glad that the wind and snow couldn't reach them. They were also very thankful for the heating charm that was put over this small apartment that they shared with Neville. "Flower, is everything alright? You've been staring out the window for awhile now..." A voice suddenly asked... It was obvious who it belonged to. Y/N just shrugged. "I just feel bad I took so long getting ready this morning. I know you really wanted to go see your parents." Neville let out a little chuckle and sat down next to his partner; setting to cups of cocoa on the window sill. "Flower, don't worry. I'd much rather be snowed in here then at St. Mungoes. Sometimes, it's painful to be there and see my parents just look right through me."

Y/N looked at their boyfriend with concerned eyes and gave him a hug. "Nev, don't ever keep secrets like that from me... I want to be able to be there for you." He hugs back; squeezing a little tight onto them. He's happy to have someone so caring. He pulls away after a minute and seems shocked when Y/N wipes away few tears forming his eyes. He didn't even realize that the tears had formed in his eyes until they were wiped away. "Hey, Nev. Let's talk about something else... Maybe it'll take your mind off this." Y/N suggests as they pick up the cups of cocoa and hand one to Neville.

The brunette male smiles weakly and nods. "Sure, love." The couple clink cups and then start drinking their cocoa in silence. It was more comfortable than any words could be. They made their way to their couch and curled up together under a knitted throw blanket. Y/N's head rested on Neville's shoulder but they sat up just enough so that they could still drink their hot cocoa.

A few hours later, empty cups were left forgotten on the coffee table. Neville was staring at Y/N and was completely mesmerized by this wonderful person who he'd been in love with since his fifth year. He is sitting there with you in his arms and he couldn't be more comfortable. In fact, being next to Y/N actually takes his mind completely off his original plans for the day. They look at him with a little smile crossing their face. "So umm.... Neville... What're you thinking about right now? I'll tell you what I'm thinking about if what you're thinking about is half as interesting as it." They bargain and press a kiss to his cheek. Neville looks at them and he has the most affectionate smile on his face. He speaks softly. "I'm thinking about you... I'm thinking about how beautiful you look... And I'm thinking about how amazing it is to be around you... To have this experience with you... It's incredible... That's what I'm thinking about." Neville seems to be in another world right now. Y/N brushes their nose against his and look at him like he's something rare and precious. "I was clearly overthinking something... I thought you were still upset... But nevermind that... I love you...." They cuddle in closer to him and let out a relieved sigh. Neville smiles even bigger and it seems like he has become completely overwhelmed by the love he is feeling right now. He kisses their forehead softly. "I love you too."

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Flufftober Day 3 | Together, forever

Pairing | Iron Man!Tony Stark x Avenger!Female!Reader

Word count | 3.1K

Summary | You and Tony have been head over heels in love with one another for as long as you can remember. It isn't until someone is getting injured and nearly loses their life that your feelings come out, and both of you wish you would have shared your feelings sooner, especially after seeing how fragile a human life is.

Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Coworkers to lovers, mutual pining, use of pet name (Angel), angst (near-death experience, mentions of blood/bleeding out, multiple gunshot wounds), smut (Fingering, protected sex).

Prompt | 3. ''Wait, you love me?'' ''I always have'' | @flufftober Prompt | ''I love you so much, you have no idea to what limits I'd go to prove that to you.'' | @vase-of-lilies

A/n | This one shot is written for day 3 of my Flufftober 2023 Challenge and Mays500challenge! The second I saw these prompts, I couldn't get this idea with Tony out of my head, so here I am providing you all with my fluffiest thoughts about this man 🖤

A/n 2.0 | I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for helping me brainstorm and giving me some ideas to bring this fic to the next level, as well as proofreading this for me! It's very much appreciated, and I hope you love what I ended up with 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | GIF credit to the owner This GIF has been found on Pinterest, but I sadly can't find the original pin anymore since I forgot to save it. If you have the link to the original GIF, please let me know so I can credit it accordingly!

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist

You're currently on your daily run on the treadmill when the alarm for a mission goes off, and you sigh deeply before turning the machine off and heading towards the locker room to shower and get changed into your tactical suit quickly.

However, before you officially go to the jet and on the mission, you decide to go and see Tony for a bit of encouragement; you'll need it.

You knock on Tony's office door, and he opens the door with a curious look. Who would be bothering him at a moment like this? But as soon as he sees your face, everything is forgotten, and he gives you an inviting smile.

''A penny for your thoughts, Angel?'' he says before you walk into his office and perch yourself on the edge of his desk. His eyes glide over every last inch of your bodysuit, which is made for stealth and can house every last knife or other weapon you might need to carry.

''Just nerves, at the moment...'' you sigh before you close your eyes and take a deep breath. The last time you went on a mission like this, you lost some people who were very near and dear to your heart.

''I know, Angel and I'd say there's no need to be nervous, but that wouldn't be true. But you know what is true? The fact that you're one of the best fighters I know. And because of you, we will get through this together, and there won't be a repeat of what happened last time.''

He walks towards you and places his hands on your cheeks before lifting your head so he can look at you.

''I'll make sure there won't be a repeat of last time,'' he whispers. Before you can answer, he pulls you in for a reassuring hug that may have lingered longer than usual.

''Thank you, Tony,'' you whisper before you let him go, and you walk to the jet together. He's holding your hand, and right before the jet comes into sight, your hand slips out of his, much to the dismay of Tony.

After one more deep breath, you walk into the jet and find your usual place in a corner in the back. You pull up your knees to your chest and let your head rest on them until you're at the site of arrival.

''You coming with us, Angel?'' Tony asks, and you take a deep breath before stretching out your hand and letting him grab it. He pulls you up in a fluid motion, and this time, it's his hand sliding out of yours. With it, you also feel a piece of your heart leaving right alongside him.

You only have a little time to think about that, however, because the mission is a lot more complicated, especially compared to the last time you were under an alien attack.

Not only are there aliens, but also lots of people with guns and other weapons, so it takes a lot of work to keep track of everyone. The one person you have your eye on at all times, though, is Tony.

''Watch out!'' you say as you run towards him and push him out of the way of an incoming stream of bullets, which hit you in the chest and abdomen, as well as a few in your legs.

You come down with a loud thud, and you grunt at the impact, pain shooting sharply through your veins, muscles, and every inch of your body while you're losing a lot of blood.

''Man down!'' Tony shoots through the comms in his helmet, and JARVIS instantly alerts the medical team in the Compound. There is a different jet on the way to pick you up from the battlefield, but until that time, Tony is staying on your side.

''Oh my god, Angel, why did you do that?! My suit would have saved me! Fuck, please stay with me, Angel! Please, I can't lose you, not like this, not while I didn't have the chance to tell you how much I love you...'' he says between his sobs that are wreaking through his body.

You slip in and out of consciousness, and because of that, you don't hear everything Tony says, and it most definitely doesn't land that he's confessing his love for you right now.

''I can't lose you, Angel; please stay with me. Stay with me so we can see each other on the other side, okay? I love you too damn much to lose you! Please, I can't lose you, Angel...'' he says while clutching your body to his chest, despite you having lost all consciousness at this moment.

''I love you so much, you have no idea to what limits I'd go to prove that to you,'' Tony whispers to you, and that's when the EMT arrives, and they take you away gracefully.

The jet flies away in an instant, and while you're in the air, they take all necessary steps to ensure you'll stay alive, and the first blood transfusion is given to replenish your blood.

''FUCK!'' Tony exclaims loudly, and it's as if a switch inside him is flipped because he is slaying every single monster and person in sight. The beast inside him took over, and before anyone even knew what was happening, the battle was won.

Tony flew back to the Compound in his suit, not wanting to wait until everyone was on the jet, and he was back within no time. All he did was change out of his Iron Man suit and rush to the medbay, but what he saw was far from pretty.

There you are, behind a large glass wall where only doctors and nurses can be with you. Tubes are coming out of you everywhere, and he sees the heart monitor showing a steady rhythm.

''How is she?'' Tony clamps to the first doctor who walks out of the room you're lying in, all alone.

''Considering the circumstances, she's doing okay. There were a total of 7 bullets found and removed, of which five were lodged in her chest and abdomen, the last two being in her leg. One of them missed her heart by a minimal margin, so she got lucky,'' the doctor tells him, and all he feels is relief.

You're alive, albeit on life support, but you survived it, and that's all that matters right now. Tears are streaming down his face as he pulls the doctor in for a hug, all while constantly thanking them for saving your life.

''She will need to stay in here for at least a week, and after that, we're going to see if she can come off life support and be brought back to consciousness. Until then, she will stay here so she can be watched closely 24 hours a day,'' the doctor explains, and then he gets paged away.

This week, Tony rarely left his place in front of the window, always watching you for any changes. He only went to use the toilet and take showers, but he barely ate and drank, unable to keep anything down while still nervous.

After the first week, you are ready to come off life support, and Tony is allowed to be by your side when it happens.

''Are you ready, Mr. Stark? She won't wake up immediately, but it won't be long before she's conscious,'' the nurse tells him, and he nods in understanding.

''Can I- I mean, is it okay if I hold her hand?'' he asks in a low voice, and the nurse nods, so he carefully grabs your hand, afraid that if he accidentally squeezes too hard, he'll hurt you.

Tony has been sitting by your side for nearly three hours when he suddenly feels a faint squeeze in his hand. At first, he's not even sure he felt it, but when he sees your eyes slowly opening, he shoots out of his chair, and his hand softly brushes against your cheek.

''Angel, thank God you're alive,'' he whispers as the tears flow down his cheeks again. Even after all the ones he's shed, more are still coming, but seeing your eyes looking at him again is worth more than anything.

He has his Angel back; this time, he isn't planning to let you go. He won't let anything bad happen to you again.

The few weeks following the incident are filled with a lot of physical therapy, regular therapy, and even more memory loss. You don't remember much from the incident, and you hit your head pretty badly, meaning you have lost some things from before that as well.

But the one constant which you're very thankful for is Tony. Since you woke up, he has been by your side, no questions asked. Each time you have an appointment, Tony is there.

''Mornin', my beautiful Angel, are you ready to have breakfast before your therapy session today?'' Tony asks after you've put on a comfy outfit before he arrives.

''Yeah, I've been craving some strawberries for a few days, and I'm finally allowed to eat some more solid foods, according to the doctor,'' you say, already salivating at the thought of eating normal food again.

''Aren't you just a lucky duck then, because we have gotten some fresh ones in our grocery delivery this morning!'' Tony tells you as you hook your arm through his, and you shuffle to the kitchen.

The bullet wounds in your leg, abdomen, and chest are slowly healing, but you're still in quite a bit of pain, so walking doesn't come naturally to you yet. Lucky for you, you always have Tony by your side.

''You can sit down, Angel, and I'll get you your breakfast, okay?'' he tells you, kissing you on your head after you sit down to watch him intently. Watching him make breakfast is one of your favorite parts of the day, as dull as that may sound.

Whenever you're not busy with appointments or sleeping, you find yourself in Tony's lab, watching his every move while he talks to you about what he's doing.

''Here you go, Angel, eat up,'' he says as he puts a bowl of yogurt and a small bowl of strawberries in front of you. He takes his place before you, and you eat peacefully, enjoying each other's company.

''Hmm, these taste so good!'' you say as you take a bite of a strawberry, and the sweet flavor explodes in your mouth.

When breakfast is over, he takes you to your therapy session again, and this routine keeps going on for a few more weeks until he suddenly has an appointment he can't get out of, and you have to go by yourself.

It just so happens that this appointment unlocks some core memories inside of you, namely the ones of Tony confessing his undying love to you when you were slipping in and out of consciousness.

''I- I'm sorry, but I have to go!'' you say before rushing out of the office you were situated in, and you run to Tony's lab, where he's currently with Steve, to work on his shield after it broke during a recent mission.

You swing open the door, and that's when the words fly out of your mouth. As soon as you've grabbed him by his shoulders, it's like a waterfall of words, and now he knows how you feel, too.

''I- I remember, Tony! I remember your confession on the battlefield about how much you love me, and- and I love you too! I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I'm so sorry for not remembering sooner!'' you spew out in a stream.

''Wait, you love me?'' he asks, but your answer is everything he needs to hear.

''I always have, Tony,'' you say before holding his face gently and standing on your tiptoes to capture his lips in the softest, sweetest first kiss you could have both wished for. Steve is already forgotten, but he's happy for both of you.

''Congratulations, you two, and I'm glad to hear your memory is coming back,'' Steve says before turning around and leaving you two in your little bubble.

That evening, Tony invites you to his apartment in the Compound. The entire living area is lit with candles in multiple sizes, giving the room an almost ethereal glow as you walk in.

''I want to use this moment to tell you about my feelings for you, Angel, because I couldn't this morning. I took the time to think about it and to let it sink in, and I love you too, more than words can ever express,'' he starts before he pulls you close and starts swaying back and forth to the soft music.

''Ever since you walked into my office that first day, I couldn't get you out of my mind or sight. You're so incredibly special to me, and seeing you catch those bullets for me only cemented my love for you. As stupid as it was for you to do that, it only made me admire you more. I love you, I am in love with you, and I want you to be mine,'' he whispers the last part in your ear, giving you goosebumps.

''Please, make me yours,'' you say before slotting your lips together in a slow, sensual kiss. He ducks down to grab the backs of your legs, and he carries you to the bedroom, which is equally lit with candles, and the bed is covered in rose petals.

It's almost as if he knew this would be happening tonight.

He places you on the bed, and he doesn't waste any time slipping off your leggings and tank top. The light blue lingerie it reveals has his breath hitching, and you know it was the right move to put it on.

''You look like a Goddess right now,'' he says as you lay back with your head on the pillows, and he takes off his pants and shirt, too, before crawling up the bed and over you.

''God, I can't believe what I've been missing out on all this time,'' he says as he takes off your bra, revealing your soft breasts and stiff nipples to him.

His head ducks down, and you think he will be going to your nipple, but nothing could be less true. He places a featherlight kiss on the scar on your chest where the bullet hits you right by your heart.

He continues his way down all seven scars while whispering how beautiful and brave you are and how proud he is of you. When he does that, you can't help but let the tears escape, and by the time he is at your last scar, you can't fight back the sobs.

''It's okay, Angel; I know it's difficult for you, but I'm incredibly proud of you after everything you've gone through. You've gone through something so traumatic, and here you are, stronger than ever, more beautiful than ever,'' he says.

''I love you so much, Tony; thank you for being there for me after everything. Thank you for doing this right now, and most of all, thank you for loving me. I love you so much it hurts, and I want to be yours, so please, make me yours,'' you whisper against his lips.

He kisses you slowly, passionately while his fingers slide into your panties and explore your folds until he's found your clit, making you arch into him.

He doesn't take long to work you open, and before you know it, he's wrapped and sliding into you smoothly. The stretch is delicious, and when he slides into the hilt, you feel yourself relax.

''Now I'm not letting you go, Angel,'' he tells you, and you're more than okay with that.

Tony sets a slow pace to make sure you're comfortable but also to make this moment last as long as possible. There's only one first time, and he wants this one to be perfect.

When the two of you finally reach your peaks, you're exhausted, and Tony pulls you carefully against his chest before letting you fall asleep.

Your first time was perfect, and he can't wait to see what the rest of your lives together will look like.

It's been about 12 years since the attack on New York that nearly cost you your life. In this time, you and Tony got engaged and married, and to top it all off, you have welcomed your beautiful boy, Harley Isaac Stark, into this world.

''Mommy? How did you and Daddy meet?'' Harley asks as you're cuddling with him on the couch. Tony is getting something to drink for all three of you before movie night.

''Well, that's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear that now? Because if I tell you, there might not be as much time for your movie,'' you say, but he shrugs.

''That's okay, I like how you tell stories, Mommy,'' he says, and it warms your heart. You give him an extra tight squeeze before Tony returns and settles in with the both of you.

And that's how you tell him everything. From the moment you became an Avenger and met Tony to the moment you got shot and how extremely worried Tony was then. But most of all, you tell him how in love the two of you were back then and how that love has only grown over time.

Harley listens with a very concentrated face, and you can't help but chuckle when you're done telling the story. You give him a soft kiss on the crown of his head before giving Tony a small peck on his lips.

''I love you, Angel,'' he tells you, and you will never get enough of hearing these words from his lips.

''Mommy? You are the absolute BEST hero in the entire world!'' Harley says, and you can't help but laugh loud at the face Tony pulls. He can't hide his dissatisfaction over his sons' words, especially since he's Iron Man.

''It's a good thing I love you,'' Tony groans to his son before leaning over to tickle him completely senseless.

''D-Daddy! S-s-stohohohop!'' he tries to say between laughing and mumbling, and he eventually does.

''Who's the best hero in this world?'' Tony said teasingly, and he couldn't be more satisfied with the answer his son gave him.

''You're both the best heroes in this world because you are my Mommy and Daddy!''

[sideshow-cellophane-blog]

Wyll's Enchanted Boots: Part 2!

Act 2, also

It didn't take long for the group to come back. Tav, Gale, Laezel, and Halsin had spent a long day in the shadow lands searching for hints about a child named Thaniel, and had made little progress other than adding to their map, felling some enemy creatures, and meeting with some harpers. They would head northwest the next day in search of that inn they mentioned, but their day had been cut short to exhaustion.

Tav and Gale collapsed at Shadowheart's tent to heal while the others went off on their own. 

Halsin was used to getting looks from his new allies, but he felt more intense gazes as he headed back. He tried to meet eyes with Astarion and Wyll, who looked away too quickly. Both looked quite disheveled and flustered.

A smile tugged at his lips. "Did something happen while we were gone?"

"Hm?" Astarion answered too innocently. "Oh, nothing much. We scavenged a ruin nearby and found fresh clothes. Wyll found some boots your size, they're already near your tent."

Wyll snapped his attention to Astarion. "You-! Nonsense, Astarion brought everything back by himself."

"Don't be modest darling, not when you went through all of that hard work trying on the enchanted clothes."

"And here I thought you were the one to make those yourself. Seems I underestimated your mischief."

Halsin was too tired to mind whatever was going on between the two. He continued to his tent near the water and stripped off his armor piece by piece, sighing in relief to change into fresh clothing after a long day in darkness. 

The eyes remained on him, as they usually do when he changes. But this time something different happened. 

Something very different.

 He slipped into a fresh pair of boots, new ones that must have come from their scavenging, and he turned to check on the others.

He felt the boots tighten - odd - and as he took that first step he nearly crumpled to the ground. A feather-like tickle ran up his soles, and another after that. His face twisted in confusion, then realization as the enchanted boots started to tickle every inch of his feet without mercy. He chuckled and looked to Astarion and Wyll, whose grins were as wide as the druid's. He did not see Karlach and Shadowheart also looking, momentarily distracted from her healing spell. 

"Oh - OH!" He stomped his feet on the ground as the magic kept tickling, and his giggling picked up. Halsin crossed his arms over his stomach and crumpled to his knees. "Wha-HAHAHA! Whahat is thihihis?!" 

"Got him!" Karlach cheered. "Poor Wyll couldn't handle those things for more than a few minutes. Isn't it fun?"

"He couldn't handle being grabbed by his love handles either," Astarion teased. He pinched Wyll's exposed sides and got smacked. 

"I can't help my sensitivities," Wyll pouted. He fended off Astarion's teasing fingers as Halsin belly laughed harder and louder. "Stop! Let Halsin be the center of attention, will you? I've been tortured enough today."

"Hmph. I'd wager Halsin rivals even you Wyll! He's certainly as loud."

Halsin was fully lying on the ground, kicking his legs against the dirt. He tried to remove the boots, but they held tight to his skin. He flopped back over as they dug beneath his toes. A squeal escaped him, and he pounded a fist on the ground. How long had it been since his nerves were exploited in such a silly way? Had they ever been? Certainly no one was brave enough since he became an archdruid. He had forgotten how fun it could be, and admired how it brightened the team around him. They had all been so melancholy after the creche.

"Whoa," Tav breathed as they approached the hysterical giant behind Karlach. "Where did you guys find those?!"

"Astarion did earlier today near some ruins," Shadowheart said firmly. "He and Wyll were going at it earlier. It was his idea to give them to Halsin next."

"Stop dropping names," Astarion said nervously. "Stop dropping my name. Karlach brought them to his tent, after all."

"Yeah but he can't touch me without burning, unlike you Mister Giggles," Karlach laughed. "Halsin! You doing okay?"

Their favorite gentle giant was giggling so hard he could only gargle through half-started words and jumbled pleads. He kept his arms crossed over his stomach and rolled from side to side, kicking all the while. Tears of mirth were escaping the corners of his eyes. 

"Well he isn't begging for it to stop," Gale said softly. "I hope that means he's enjoying himself?"

Halsin nodded through his hysteria. 

"I don't think you can take them off when you're wearing both shoes," Wyll commented. "Astarion and Karlach got them off when they were wearing one boot each, but it was impossible for me when I was wearing both…So, uh, one of us will actually need to… step in here." He grinned at himself.

Tav groaned at the pun. "You guys were in camp tickling one another while we were risking our lives fighting shadow creatures? There was a massive fucking spider man out there, goblins, undead creatures...Godsdamn it all, why couldn't you wait until we were back?! I would have loved to see Wyll losing his mind! And Karlach can be touched with these?!"

"Oh yeah," Karlach sighed. "Wish it could tickle other parts of me…"

"We have to entertain ourselves somehow while you're away," Astarion shrugged. "And look! You have your giggley show now, don't you? I didn't think it would really be so easy to fall the mighty archdruid."

"IHIHI'M GOHOHOING TO KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOU!" Halsin roared. He wasn't really having a bad time. Their group had been through a lot in such a short period of time and he hadn't laughed so hard in many long years. Being the center of their delight wasn't a blow to his ego, if it brought a genuine smile to everyone's faces. "GeheheHET DOHOHOWN HEHEHEHERE!" He barely managed to sit up, his entire frame shaking with mirth. He took a swing for Astarion's legs, missed, and growled as he tried to crawl forward.

"Oh~!" Shadowheart giggled. "He's mobile, Astarion!"

"Oh fuck - I'll get those boots off if you don't retaliate! Wyll and Shadowheart already got their revenge on me earlier!"

Halsin lunged again for the nearest person and managed to grab Shadowheart's leg. "Nahahahat….FOR MEHEHEHEE!"

She squeaked and knelt down to stop his fingers from curling into her knee and subsequently thigh. "Hehey! I didn't do anythihihing!" Still, she didn't put up much of a fight when he pulled her down into his lap and started to squeeze her belly. She snorted and began to giggle with a very red face at being manhandled by the group's current crush - besides Tav - and subjected to torture.

"Bah," Laezel finally spoke. "To be stroked lightly and laugh in such a way - how human. And childish."

"Please, it's fun!" Karlach threw out her arms. "Gods, as soon as I can touch you all I'll show you how a proper tickle fight should go. You'll see Laezel, they're so much fun with friends! Wyll you'll have to be my first, I already know some of your tickle spots and your laugh is so sweet! Gods, we need to catch up with Dammon."

Wyll tensed at the idea of being under Karlach's mercy, giant that she was, and shuddered in secret delight. "I'd…I'd be honored to see your joy when that happens," He said honestly but very hesitantly. "As long as you show some mercy."

"I'll watch," Laezel crossed her arms, secretly admiring Halsin's mirth. "But involve me and suffer death."

"Now that I'll avoid."

"Hehehelp!" Shadowheart giggled. "C-cahahan't! Escahahahape!"

"GihihHIHIHIVE MEhehehe Astahahahariohohohon! HaHAHAHA!" Halsin bellowed out deep belly laughter again when Shadowheart stopped clawing at his hands, and instead reached back to claw his own sides. 

"Well if I'm being thrown under the bus I may as well deserve it," Astarion sighed and cracked his neck. Wyll was easy to defeat in a tickle fight, but he knew Halsin would absolutely kill him. "Tav? Or Gale? Get his arms up, won't you?"

Gale smiled and cast mage hand. It hovered in front of Halsin and Shadowheart, and with some extra concentration it grabbed Halsin's hands and lifted them. "Alright, have your fun."

"With pleasure," Tav and Astarion both descended on Halsin with Shadowheart. Halsin fell backwards onto his back, cackling madly. Fingers fluttered and squeezed over his muscled stomach, into fleshy sides, creeping into his armpits, tip-toed and counted out his most sensitive ribs. He roared when - Tav? - squeezed that most sensitive spot just under his pectorals and into his top ribs. Shadowheart was pinching the softness below his navel. He rolled back and forth in a new level of hysteria he hadn't experienced in well over a century - it wasn't unwelcome, but he was going to get them all back for this. Namely Astarion, whose fingers curling in his armpits and skittering over biceps were sending electric bolts down his spine. 

"FIHIHIHIGHT FAHAHAHAIRLY!" He yelled. "GAHAAAAA! AHAHAHASSES! YOU DARE ATTACK AHAHAHAN! ALLY?! HAAaaaaaaaAAAHAHA!"

"Here," Feeling more sympathetic than the rest, Wyll sat on Halsin's legs to try and pull the boots off - he needed some form of relief. "Don't go too hard on him guys, I'm sure they've had a long day."

"Mm, I did most of the work," Gale coughed. "I finally got my fireball spell back."

"Most useful," Laezel nodded. "But it was I who had the highest body count today. You merely helped weaken them."

"Well without my fireballs we would have needed to use a revive scroll, or Withers, with the way you charge into battle."

Laezel took a moment to give Gale the benefit of the doubt. When he didn't continue with an apology for his boastful ego she uncrossed her arms and hesitantly started to poke at his sides and ribs from behind in retaliation. She used softer touches that she observed being used on Halsin, and Gale's concentration was broken instantly to a giggle fit. He curled in on himself and bent over in vain to escape her vice-like grip, but she pulled him into her chest. One arm held his waist, and the other pinched and poked at it.

"Hehehey! W-what- Lae'zel! Hehe!"

"Say that I'm more efficient in battle than you are!" She demanded, gaining confidence now that he was reacting the way Halsin was. "Suffer my superior light hearted torture!"

"Aw, aw, guys!" Karlach gasped. "Guys! It's our first tickle fight and I can't even touch you? Fucking hells that sucks!"

"Want a boot?" Wyll quickly hopped off of Halsin's legs with the enchanted boots, just in time for the mage hand to disappear with Gale's concentration. Halsin was free. "We'll get you one of these days ourselves."

"Gimme one, nobody can keep me from being a part of this!" Karlach cheered and pulled on one of the shoes so she could be a part of the tickle fight that was breaking out. 

Wyll sat beside her and watched the madness erupt. "I don't think you'll need these boots when we can touch you again," He teased. "You'll have our very willing team."

With his arms free and feet no longer being tortured, Halsin had grabbed the person who wasn't running away fastest: Astarion. And that was only because he was pushed into Halsin's body by Tav and Shadowheart to avoid that very fate. The spawn squealed in fear, girlishly swatting at Halsin's large arms as they wrapped around him. Halsin managed to keep the vampire on his chest as one extremely large hand covered the entirety of his belly, and scratched at it with vigor. Astarion choked on his first cackle, and then the noises he made would have made one think a hyena had entered their camp. 

"Prank an archdruid, and suffer the consequences!" Halsin roared in victory. Astarion writhed like a flopping fish on him, but he held fast. "I'm coming after ALL of you!" His large fingers scuttled to Astarion's sides, then ribs, and avoided his swinging arms by going directly into his armpits. 

Astarion's arms clamped to his sides, quite uselessly, and he practically jumped out of his skin. "NAHT THERE NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!" He arched his back into Halsin's chest and howled, stuck on his back. With both of Halsin's hands preoccupied, he finally managed to roll off him to the ground.

The escape attempt was stopped quickly. Halsin sat up and pulled Astarion into his lap, wiggling his fingers in those death spots all the while. "I'll be staying right here," Halsin assured him. "To teach you a valuable lesson!" 

Gale made it to his knees in front of Wyll and Karlach, the unfortunate first victim of Laezel's merciless fingers. "Admit it or suffer more forced laughter!" She kept demanding. "I am the best fighter! Even now I have you lying defenseless beneath me in a hilarious fit! Suffer a most silly wrath!"

Unfortunately, Gale couldn't breathe, and therefore couldn't answer. Choked pleads and squeals and half-hearted attempts to get her to move were to no avail, and he couldn't laugh hard enough from the militant alien's insufferable tickle torture. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and it was all he could do to keep his arms firmly pinned to his sides.

Tav and Shadowheart looked at each other with bright smiles. Shadowheart looked at Astarion, back at Tav, and had to shout over the maniacal cackling and howling laughter. "Get his knees!"

"No! Really?" Tav didn't hesitate. Too excited by the prospect of seeing Astarion giddy and out of control, they knelt down in front of the pair. Halsin had wrapped one leg around one of Astarion's, but the vampire's other kicked dirt. 

Just before Tav could start squeezing the trapped knee, Shadowheart's nimble fingers wormed their way under their arms. Tav squeaked at the betrayal and was pulled backwards into the cleric's chest, just like Astarion and Halsin across from them. 

Astarion was bent in half in Halsin's lap, shaking and cackling with giant bear fingers trapped and wriggling in his armpits. He started to slump over to the side and was pulled right back into Halsin's chest with a shout. He was shown a slight mercy as Halsin finally pinched his way down to Astarion's tummy again, and the poor thing snorted and twisted. 

Finally, FINALLY, the squeezes and skitters slowed to pokes and slower vibrations that Astarion could breathe and gasp through. "Oh, oho, haha, heheh, f-fahack…Ah gahahads, yohou're evihihil!"

"Evil wouldn't involve breaks," Halsin pinched his hip. 

"AHA!...B-break? You're not blohohoody stahahapping!"

"Look around you," He nodded to the group. Tav and Shadowheart were making each other squeak as they fought for control. Gale was wheezing as Wyll tried to talk Lae'zel into letting the matter drop. Karlach was in the middle of taking off the tickle boot, watching the group too. She gave Halsin and Astarion a wink. "I've never seen anything like it. You have made everyone so happy this evening. Even if it started at my expense, I intend for it to end at yours. Shared delight is such a wonderful gift like that, isn't it?"

"Hah? HAAAAAAHAHAHA!" Astarion swayed to the side and managed to fall over. Halsin was digging into his sides again, and focused both large hands on scribbling into the one now facing up. Astarion could only battle weakly at the stronger man's hands. 

Tav and Shadowheart finally called a truce, and Lae'zel was showing Gale mercy only because he had started to wheeze more than laugh. Wyll patted his back as Karlach grabbed the boots to hide at someone else's tent. Halsin wouldn't be done with Astarion for a few more minutes. Noticeably, he wasn't begging for it to stop.