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jake-g-lockley · 2 years ago

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Sin Without Limits (Javier Peña x reader)

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*gif not mine*

Warnings: MDNI, Narcos Season 2 and 3 spoilers, canon-usual violence, unhinged behaviour from Agent Peña and reader, unprotected p in v sex, choking, spanking (?), oral (m and f receiving), knife play (if you squint), overstimulation, angst, swearing

A/N: bruh I just cleaned this one up and I'm appalled at what I have written but enjoy. I’ve written a secondary plot (and changed some sequence) to what happened at the end of season two heh

Word count: 7.7 k (wtf)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You trained your gaze on him as you leaned your entire weight onto the truck. You watched him pace and scan the officers before him, his hand clenching and unclenching as he tried to stim his anxiety away. Watching a DEA Agent act skittish is not always the best thing in your books.

You felt your breath quickening slightly as Steve slapped his back and beckoned you to join them. You jogged to keep up with them as they jumped into a truck. You turn in the front seat to look at him. The eye contact he made with you for a millisecond told you everything you needed to know. Javier Peña looked absolutely terrified.

“...armed men…”

��Checkpoint…”

You caught a few words of what Steve was trying to tell the both of you and you realized that your suspicions that you had been having for the past few days are slowly unfolding to show you a harsh reality, a reality that you were not ready to admit to. You watch from the truck as Javier convinced the men to lower their weapons, after Steve’s failed attempt. The way you could pin-point the shiver in Javier’s hands even from a distance made you curse yourself for being so aware. You watch his hands curl up to clutch the collar of his bullet-proof vest, as he spoke to Steve, the one constant tell that you could pull from him and your heart broke under the pressure that your brain was putting you through.

You masked the heart wrenching pain that you were going through until Steve left the office. It was just you and Javier, like how it had been for the past few months, working late, going home to nothing but the empty shells. You hadn’t even noticed you were staring at him until he called your name.

“Everything good, mariposa?” He said, squinting through his cigarette smoke.

You had to confront him, this was your only chance. You nod and try to find the right words.

“Just wondering how Los Pepes always manage to get there before we can.” you say softly, picking at a hangnail on your finger.

You catch Javier shrugging on your peripheral and decide your next best move.

“What if there's someone here who’s telling them what to do?” you said, locking your eyes with him.

“Well, a rat wouldn’t be surprising to me, that's how this world works, mariposa.” he huffed, setting down his cigarette and rubbing his face with his hands.

“Hmm.” you got up and pushed Javier’s chair away from his desk, perching above it as you stared down at him. “Javs?”

He looks up at you, but his eyes don't find yours, settling to look past them.

“Look at me.” you whispered, tracing his jaw with your fingers.

“I am.”

“No, look at me properly, Javs, or I swear to god-”

He does, and that gives you all the confirmation you need.

“You’re fucking around with Los Pepes, aren’t you?” you murmur, your eyes wide with fear.

Javier nods slowly as he looks away from you. You gasp softly as a tear runs down your cheek. You slid off his desk and turned away from him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Marip-”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Javier?!” you scream before he could continue. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m handling it.” he said getting up from his seat and walking towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, that I can fucking assure you. Those assholes are killing innocent people in their quest to take down Escobar, you know? People who don’t deserve to fucking die, Javier.” you said, shaking his hand off you. “Their blood will be on your fucking hands.”

Suddenly, you found yourself being slammed into a nearby wall. Javier was towering over you, a glowering look etched upon his face.

“I need you to shut that pretty mouth of yours. We all are working towards one goal, don’t you dare blame me for trying out my last option.” he snarled. “Anyway, what the fuck can you even do about it, report me?”

You stared up at him, your gaze hardened and unfaltering.

“What if I did? You’re gonna go down their fucked up root, Javier? Hmm? Go on, kill me then for knowing your little secret.” you mocked him, straightening your back and standing a little taller.

Javier’s breath hitched a little but he didn’t budge.

“They are going to use you like the whore you are and then when they’re done with you, they’re gonna put a bullet through this thick skull of yours and leave you all fucked out.” you spat.

The next thing you know, Javier’s hand was around your throat as he flattened you against the wall with his entire body weight. He wasn’t squeezing you, but a rush of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you stared into the raging fire in his eyes. He moved forward until his face was next to yours as your hand reached up to grab at his.

“Want me to show you what a whore can do?” his lips grazed the shell of your ear as your breath quickened.

He brought his face in front of yours until the both of you were nose to nose. You could see every tiny detail on his face and if he got any closer his lips would be on yours. You contemplated making the first move as Javier’s fingers flexed at your throat, pushing a whole flow of arousal straight down between your legs. A part of you almost forgot why he had you pinned against the wall, and it made you a little afraid by the way he was taking you apart just with one swift move.

The sound of the phone ringing brought Javier out of his trance and he immediately let go of you. You immediately hurry away from him and grab your jacket, not even turning to look back at him as adrenalin pushes you to jog out of the office.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Javier kept his aviators on inside as he squinted at the work he was doing. He could clearly remember what he had done to you but could only vaguely remember what happened after that. He had drowned himself in whatever liquor he could find lying around and stumbled into the office in the morning with an almighty hangover that could rival the power of two colossal giants fighting. He obviously felt awful about how he treated you yesterday and dreaded leaving his apartment in the morning. Steve gave him an understanding pat on the back, handing him a painkiller which Javi took gingerly and accidentally made eye contact with you.

You instinctively looked away from him, his warning from last night ringing loud and clear in your head when you slyly glanced at the wall that he had pinned you to. In a weird turn of events, you still couldn’t decide whether you were scared or turned on by his threat. Although, you do have to admit that calling him a whore was a little over the top, despite all of the picturesque rumours you had heard about him. Being the only woman on the team meant that you had to deal with questioning individuals from the red-light district and that ultimately gave you a clear idea of what Javier Peña’s sex life sounded like and you hated yourself that you were slightly intrigued. Your thoughts were interrupted again when Javier slid a tiny piece of paper in front of you and walked away. You raised an eyebrow at his retreating figure as you grabbed the note.

Mens. Stall five. Now.

You were still pissed at the way he was engaging with Los Pepes. Javier is practically giving them full leeway to do whatever they please, but if he seems to think that if that's the way they are going to get to Escobar, then so be it. Besides, you’d like to see how this plan of his plays out, despite the part of you that is scared shitless about the consequences that he might face after this ordeal.

You rolled your eyes and got up only to be stopped by your boss. You froze and crumpled the paper in your hand, stuffing it into your pocket as fast and discreetly as possible.

“Agent, how are things?” she asks, staring you down with her usual demeanour.

“All good, boss.” you feigned a smile as your eyes end up landing on that good awful wall again, making your eye twitch slightly.

“Good, good. I expect to see you at the party tonight.” Messina says, catching you off guard.

“Hmm?”

“You know the state party?”

The fucking state party. You almost forgot that you were invited entirely. Who in their right mind holds a party in the middle of a narco war?

“Yea, of course, I’ll be there.” You said beaming at Messina.

Sure, you had nothing to wear but whatever to please Messina, you’ll figure something out soon.

“I’ll see you there then.” You nodded quickly at your boss and quickly walked to the mens as soon as she was out of your sight.

As soon as you opened the door to stall five, Javier used his brute strength to pull you in, making you collide with his chest.

“Ouch, man, I have legs, I can invite myself in.” you groaned, rubbing your forehead.

He sits you down on the closed toilet bowl and kneels down in front of you, his eyes coated in exhaustion as he gazes up at you.

“Lo siento, mariposa.” he murmured, taking your hand in his.

“For pulling me into the stall or for working wit-” Javier cuts you off by pressing a hand to your lips.

“For everything.” Javier drops his hand and tugs at your collar, exposing your neck.

His fingers softly trace the skin of your neck as he examines you and you felt slightly frozen by the way he was touching you. To think that those hands were capable of killing a man and having those hands so close to a vulnerable spot caused a shiver to run down your spine.

“I don’t bruise easily, Javs, if that's what you’re so worried about.” you whispered, bringing your own hand to meet his.

“Lo-”

“Say that you’re sorry again and I’ll kick you in the dick and walk out. I think you know that if I wanted to disarm you yesterday, I could have. I have work to do dumbass, so what's up?” you rushed through your words, noting how Javier’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I need your help.” Javier says after a moment of silence.

You nodded him along and he gulped, his eyes downcast at your shoes.

“I heard from my CI that there is going to be a person at the state party that's going to be the key for some information that I need.” He whispers. “I need you to help me get that information.”

“And is this information for us, or for Los Pepes?” you say, curling a finger under Javier's chin and tipping his head so that you can catch him if he tries to lie.

“For us.” he said, holding your gaze tightly.

“Why aren’t you asking Murphy?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously because you already know about it, you know?” he hissed and you grinned back at him.

“Hmm, okay.” you hum, surprising Javier.

“That’s it? Man, I thought I had to pull up some waterworks to convince you.” Javier chuckled nervously, rubbing his collarbone.

“Honestly, I’d do anything to get away from Messina at this point. I’m the newest recruit here, she's gonna make me socialise.” you pulled a face, making Javier smile. “Besides, now I’m more valuable to you than Steve.”

“That's my mariposa.” you roll your eyes at his excessive use of the endearing word.

Secretly, you loved it. Mariposa, or “butterfly” sounded a little too close to mi esposa, or “my wife” and it tingles your insides everytime Javier would call you that. Yet, you always find yourself pushing away the thought of having a nice domestic life with Javier the second he does something reckless and stupid. Sometimes you wonder whether he bribed his way through this job because of how dumb he can be.

Javier stands up and pulls you up with him but in that moment the both of you hear the door open. Javier quickly sits back down and taps his thighs, gesturing for you to sit and hide your legs. Your eyes widen as the footsteps get closer to the stall and you silently hook your legs over him and straddle his lap.

“Peña? You in there, man?” Steve’s voice floated through the cracks in the stall’s door.

It was hard to calm your breathing with the way you had slotted your face in Javier’s neck, breathing in a slight hint of aftershave, smokey goodness and clean skin. You poked him for an answer.

“Uh, yea dude, I’m here.” he croaked out, his voice a little strained, probably from the way you were clinging onto him for dear life.

“Come on man, you’re taking a shit at work?” Steve groaned and your body shook as you strained hard to keep the laughter in.

Poor Steve, what a naive man.

“What the hell do you want Steve?” Javier pressed, pulling you closer to stop you from bursting out into laughter.

It must have worked because when Javier pulled you closer, his thigh hit something so devastatingly amazing that you felt yourself being rendered into a shocked silence.

“Hurry up, there’s a meeting we gotta go to. And remember to wash your hands, you filthy fuck!” Steve chortled as he walked out of the mens.

You and Javier waited with baited breath for a few seconds before you brought your face out of the crook of Javier’s neck.

“He didn’t see you walking in he- wait are you okay?” Javier caught the flush look on your face as you turned to look at him.

You blink twice at Javier’s beautiful face before nodding your head vigorously. He hadn’t even touched you and you slowly felt yourself being pulled apart by him. Javier didn’t look convinced but he shrugged it off as he helped you get off from his lap.

“Aight, I will see you later at the state party?” He said, steadying you.

“Yep.” you mumbled, giving him a tight lipped smile as he exited the stall.

When you were sure he had left, you exhaled the breath you were holding and pinched the bridge of your nose.

Today was going to be a long one.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Javier nervously checked his watch for the billionth time. You were late. You were always never late, always clocking in earlier than him. He couldn’t deny that he was trying hard to hide how nervous he felt. He never wanted to bring you into this, but he always had a feeling that you were going to somehow find out anyway. The disappointment he felt was indescribable, he hated himself for being too obvious.

He adjusted his mask again, uncomfortable with the way it was cutting at the soft skin covering the back of his ears. His eyes searched in the sea of masks, hoping that they would land on yours. The dim lighting made it hard to see through the masquerade themed party and Javier strained hard, willing for you to appear.

Suddenly, a beautiful figure steps into his line of sight. Javier couldn’t take his eyes off the figure, watching them sway as their dress hugged them tightly in all the right places, clinging to every curve. The figure walked closer and closer to him until they were in front of him. A long slit exposed a holster that was disguised as a garterbelt, definitely carrying a concealed weapon. Javier instantly recognised your eyes and pushed the mask away to reveal your heavenly face. He stares in disbelief, he had been used to seeing you in suits and minimalistic makeup, and he was ashamed to think that he hadn’t expected this. He felt a rush, a similar rush that he had felt the night before as he scanned your face.

“You look good, dolled up like this.” he murmured, pushing your mask back on.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” you really had toned down your initial compliment, he looked like a prince, the way his hair was styled and the way the tux complemented his beautiful broad shoulders.

He offers you his hand and when you take it, he leads the way into a small closet. He clips a microphone to your neckline and you help him thread the wire through your dress. Javier was quite literally smitten by the way you looked. He resisted the urge to run his hands down your curves and he tried to rid his mind from remembering the way your body had been pressed up against him before. He sighs and kneels down, looking up at you.

“Can I?” he said, gesturing at the transponder and your thigh.

You nod and watch as he gently pulls the slit in your dress aside to hook the tiny transponder onto your holster. His other hand steadied himself by gripping your thigh and you felt like you were going to melt in his grip. A tremor ran through your body and it didn't go unnoticed by Javier. He smiled to himself and purposely tried to let his touch linger, sliding his fingers slowly across your soft skin, savouring the feeling of you. Your breathing gets slightly heavier but you let him do as he pleased.

When he finally hooked the transponder and slowly got up, the eye contact he was making with you sent an army of butterflies to violently collide with your stomach. You could literally cut the thick atmosphere with the knife you had on you as Javier held your gaze like it was his last lifeline. His eyes were slightly hooded and he looked as if he was about to say something when you broke eye contact with him and let your eyes drop to his lips. Before the both of you could do or say anything, the sound of footsteps snapped you out of your haze.

“Alright, the floor is yours, take it away.” Javier cleared his throat, nodding towards the door.

He handed you a key, the key that he booked under a pseudonym so that you could interrogate the intended target away from the prying eyes of people. You took it and slipped it onto your tiny purse, your mind racing. You swallow and nod, hoping your guise was enough to mask you from the people you were going to eavesdrop and enough to mask the lust that was blooming for Javier Peña.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You let Javier lead you through the sea of masks, as he searched for his intended target. You felt out of place, watching people dance while you followed him around to do his bidding.

“Javs?” you whisper, pulling him closer to you

“Hmm?” he turned to look at you.

“Dance with me.”

“But-”

“I said, dance with me, I have a plan.” you said firmly, pulling his hand to settle it onto your waist.

He stares at you for a second and again you feel as if the whole world has stopped around you. You found yourself craving for his attention, to feel his hands on you again and only then you could think on how to make the next move. He readjusted his hand that was at your waist and held you firmer, his confidence radiating out of him as he laced his free hand with yours. You tried to refrain from savouring the feeling of your hand on his tough shoulder but you slowly felt yourself being lost to him as he started to lead the both of you into a slow dance.

You straightened your back and kept your eyes trained on Javier only looking past him when you judged it was safe. You spotted your prey, a lawyer who was known to make deals with the cartels. You tapped Javier twice on his shoulder and he turned the both of you around, immediately spotting the lawyer from where the both of you were standing. You could feel his grip tightening slightly as he pulled you closer to him, your arm trapped between your two bodies.

You were so close to Javier’s jaw, surveying its sharp edge as he gritted his teeth. It was perfectly sculptured as if an artist had taken a chisel to it. Before you could think twice, you pressed your lips to his jaw, leaving a light imprint of red lipstick. The tip of your nose dug into his cheek, and when you breathed in you could smell the delicious scent of his aftershave, intoxicating you and driving you to do what you need. Javier’s grip loosened and you pulled yourself away from him to walk towards the lawyer, turning to wink at the stunned Javier as you parted the sea of disguised individuals, your lipstick stain staining like a work of art on the canvas that is his beautiful face.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It didn’t take long for Javier to find another woman to dance with. He kept a watchful eye on you, but willed to keep his distance. He continued to grit his teeth and lock his jaw to contain every ounce of violence that was trying to emit out of him as he watched the dirty lawyer run a finger up your bare arm. He tried not to push the woman he was dancing with aside as the lawyer suddenly grabbed you and pulled you flush against his body. Javier could hear your giggle and it made his blood boil hot watching you being touched like that. His eyes followed you as you led the lawyer to the room, partially glad that his plan was unfolding.

When Javier got to the outside of the room, he held his gun in front of him in his usual defensive stance, hoping that you had enough in you to overpower the lawyer. He heard a thud and he immediately swung the door open and found you standing over the lawyer, the sharp edge of your high heel pressed firmly where his sternum was. You smirked as you crouched low, putting all of your weight onto the foot that was atop the lawyer’s chest. You smoothly pulled out your blade from your holster and mockingly shushed the lawyer as he screamed while you made a spectacle of cleaning the blade.

You could feel Javier’s eyes on you but you didn’t acknowledge his presence. You could tell that he was undoubtedly staring at you while you blatantly flirted with the lawyer on the dance floor. You wanted Javier to feel the anger, to know that you were risking almost everything for him. You hold the blade at the lawyer's throat and smile innocently at him.

“My informants have given me a tip that you have been in contact with a certain important sicario. Tell me where La Quiqa is hiding and I’ll think of sparing your measly life.” you hiss in Spanish, pressing the blade slightly harder.

Blood beaded at the edge of your knife and you raised your eyebrow amusedly as the man below you whimpered and begged for his life. He turned to Javier and started to beg him instead and you rolled your eyes at the man and slapped the lawyer.

“Don’t you dare think for a second that I am more patient than my partner here. I’ll slit your throat open before you can feel the bullet passing through your skull.” you continued to jeer.

“Okay fine! I’ll tell you where La Quiqa is!” the lawyer screamed.

You kept your heel planted firmly against the lawyer’s chest as Javier rang Steve. The second the information was passed across, you stepped off the lawyer and he scrambled away from you. Javier caught him by the collar and pulled him up.

“You do not breathe a word about this to a single person, or I swear to god, I'll unload this gun in your mouth.” he sneered before pushing the man out of the room.

Once he was gone, you perched onto the edge of the bed.

“Won’t he go and warn La Quiqa?” you question.

Javier stayed silent for a while. He then suddenly walked towards you and got onto his knees, removing your high heels from your feet and setting them aside. He had already given Los Pepes the information that the lawyer would be outside of the hotel within seconds. He made a deal that the police force gets to arrest La Quiqa while Los Pepes can extract information from the lawyer, which was a win in his books.

“He won’t get far.” was all that he said as he looked up at you, his hand massaging your calf.

You lean forward and take his face in your hands. One of your hands fan out and you stroke his cheek, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. He wrenched them open again almost as if he didn’t want to lose sight of you. His hand at your calf reached out to grab your arm and he slowly started to rub your skin. You knew he was trying to erase the lawyer’s touch off you and you smiled at the gesture.

“What?” you question, reading his eyes, knowing he had something to say.

“I can’t stand it.” he whispered.

“Stand what?”

“The way he had his hands on you.” Javier’s hands were shaking now and you could see a fire raging in his dark brown eyes.

“Javs, we just needed the infor-”

“I don’t like it when people touch what is mine.” he growled slightly, making your heart leap to your throat.

“I’m not-”

“You are.” he confirmed firmly, his chest heaving now with shallow puffs of his breath.

“Then, show me how I’m yours.” you sighed, your lungs constricting your last bit of oxygen.

Javier stands up, and you could tell that there was a shift in his demeanour at your words as he gazes down at you. He towers over you, looking absolutely dazzling under the dim lighting.

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course I am.” you say a little too quickly for your liking.

“Kneel.” He says, his voice edging lower, sending an array of goosebumps at the nape of your neck as your vision blurred slightly.

But you kept your chin up and knelt between his feet.

“What? Not gonna kiss me first, Peña?” You smirked, knowing that you were pushing his buttons. “Too used to fucking whores?”

He smoothed out the hair that fluttered to your forehead, running his fingers through your locks until he got to the nape of your neck. Suddenly, his hand grabs you by your hair and your eyes widen. He tips his head to the side and surveys the look on your face.

“No, I’m gonna fuck you like the teasing brat you are. I’ll only kiss you when I know you’ve learnt your lesson.” He gives you a smug smile.

His hand loosened its hard grip, leaving a delicious stinging sensation at your scalp. His fingers trailed to your lips, tapping them.

“Open, mariposa.” you were positive that he knew how that nickname made you feel and your jaw automatically dropped open.

“So she does follow instructions.” he said pointedly before leaning over and spitting in your mouth.

You knew from that second that the man before you was not going to let you off easy and a small voice at the back of your head was giggling gleefully at the prospect of your night. You closed your mouth and swallowed, only to open it up right away, making Javier nod in appreciation. You edge closer, placing your hands on his legs.

“Go on, take what you need.” you were already running your hand up his thigh before he could finish his sentence.

You cup his hardened bulge and he hisses, but surprisingly lets you have your way. Your fingers shake slightly as you undo his slacks, letting them fall to his ankles, revealing that he had in fact gone commando. You would have rolled your eyes if you didn’t take note of how big he was. Your sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed by Javier and he watched as you shifted your weight from one knee to the other slightly nervously.

“Like what you see?” he questioned smugly.

You couldn’t let him know you were anywhere close to backing out, you wanted this as much as he did. You spit on your hand and grab his length, pumping him from base to tip, letting your thumb graze his tip only to watch him writhe slightly.

“I’ve seen better.” you smirked back, looking up at him from under your lashes.

Before he could form a retort, you licked a long strip down his cock and whatever he was going to say was mingled in a strangled moan. You continued with small controlled kitten licks, testing out all his soft spots before closing your mouth over the tip and sucking softly. Taking your time, you invite him into your mouth at a slow pace, partially teasing him and partially adjusting yourself to his size.

You gradually swallowed around him, gagged slightly when he pistoned his hips slightly forward. He pushed you on and you swallowed around him, making him groan proudly as he bottomed out into your mouth, your nose nestling in his curls.

“Look who’s the whore now.” he managed to say as his hands found your hair to grab onto.

You rolled your eyes at him and began to move your mouth along him, sucking him hungrily. He sang his praises, incoherent moans spilling out of him. He wanted to punish you, to teach you a lesson, but how could he when you were taking him so well, without a single complaint or cry. It made him want to worship you instead. But the primal creature inside of him forbade it and it took over him, making him pull out of your mouth and slam back. You choked around him but the sounds that he made spurred you on, letting your tongue lick his underside. Your perfectly done makeup was most definitely ruined as you felt your eyes water. You both were definitely in a game of seeing who could tap out and for a second you thought that you could in fact overpower this man.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Javier suddenly pulls you off him but didn't give you a chance to take a breath, pulling you up to your feet and letting his lips meet yours in a frenzied fashion,

“Lose your limits, mariposa, just give me a chance to prove to you just what I can do.” he pulled away and commanded sinfully, but he might as well had just done it straight to your cunt from the way you were already soaking.

“What are you waiting for Javs?” you exhaled and he reclaimed your lips with his.

He pressed himself hard against you, making you moan as he showed off his possessiveness. He licked into your mouth, groaning at how sweet you tasted. You could taste cigarettes on his breath and it instinctively made you want to rut your hips against his hard on, an aroused buzz coursing through your veins. He pulled away slightly, not before nipping your lips and drawing another moan from you.

Javier pushed you down onto the bed, falling on top of you. He dragged the tip of his nose down your neck and sunk his teeth into the soft skin of your neck. You reeled at the pain that surged up your spine before crying out loud at the way he started to kiss and suck your neck. You were pretty sure that he was thinking about you claiming that you don’t bruise easily, making it his priority to mark you with all he’s got. When he was satisfied, he pulled away and smirked at you before flipping you over. You felt the bed dip around you as Javier’s fingertips grazed the back of your neck, moving your hair aside.

You felt his hand at your holster, slowly pulling out your blade and letting it skim across your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, making you whimper slightly. Suddenly, you felt it at your dress, the sharp edge almost touching you as it tore your dress open. You were mad but it was was your turn to smirk as Javier gasped at the surprise that met his eyes. His knuckle skimmed your skin and you could tell that he was staring open mouthed at the delicate branch of flowers trailing along your spine.

“Fuck, youre fucking beautiful.” he hissed, feeling like it was Christmas, hastily pulling away your dress like it was wrapping paper to reveal you all bear for him, tossing it aside with your knife.

You were completely naked under your dress and Javier was impressed. He let his hands explore you, leaving no inch of skin unattended.

“Stop being a fucking tease.” you moan, secretly relishing the way he was taking his time.

Suddenly, he smacks your ass hard, drawing a muffled moan from you as you bury your face in the sheets, before flipping you over again. He immediately ran his hands up and down your body, quenching his quest of wanting to touch you. The shape of your body drove him mad and he wanted to worship you, to make you call out to him and only him.

He testily palm at your tits, moaned together, you at the stimulation, him at the way you felt under his hand. He tweaked your hardening nipples, making you writhe and moan. While you were distracted, your legs fell open and Javier brushed a finger through your slick, making you moan.

“Fuck, Javs…” you breathed as he pushed a finger inside of you and brought it back out for you to taste.

“I bet you taste great, but I’ll get mine straight from the source.” he smirked, as your tongue swirled around his finger, sucking it the way you did his cock.

Your clit is warm and throbbing under his touch and you shudder as he starts to massage it back and forth. He bends down and his tongue licks slowly up your wetness, parting your pussy lips and teasing your clit, going absolutely feral at the way you tasted.

You shiver and moan, arching your hips trying to get him to lick you more. Instead he stops and you immediately whimper and bite your lip trying not to show how badly you wanted him to keep licking. You grind your hips against his face, your clit catching his nose and you whine, grabbing onto his hair and pulling him closer to your pussy. He finally caves in and gives you what you want, holding you down and pushing his tongue into you.

He greedily fucks you with his tongue, putting in a new meaning to eating you out as his hands spread you wide open and his tongue scoops out every remnant of your wetness. Your clit isn’t abandoned with the way his thumb gave it all of its attention. It doesn’t take long before it’s too much and you start to feel the orgasm start to wash over you. Your body bucks involuntarily at his touch as he slows it to match your moans. His big dark brown eyes watches you intently from his vantage point, wanting to see how the first orgasm he gives you absolutely wreaks havoc on your body.

You were absolutely out of it, the orgasm ripping every cell in your body in half, rendering you absolutely useless. You shook in Javier’s arms, only vaguely hearing his praises as they floated their way into your ears. Your eyes are shut and you didn’t realise that he was already plotting his next plan to destroy you. You feel something nudge your entrance and Javier slips into you without any resistance, and his lips are back on your mouth, swallowing your moans.

One of his hands found yours, gripping them at the wrist and breaking the kiss only to pin them over your head. He held them firmly, one wrist between his thumb and index finger and the other wrist between his index and middle finger, locking them in position as he started pistoning his hips. Your eyes were hooded as you looked up at him, indulging the way sweat made his face shine and glow.

“You look fucking deadly like this, cariño, all spread out for me.” he grunts as his cock continued its assault on your pussy.

You clench down around him and he slumps slightly, not expecting that move from you as you lazily pull your lips into a smirk. He pushes on deeper, hitting all the best spots, pressing down on your wrists harder. You feel your juices squelch out of you and onto the bed. Your tits jiggle harder and the bed frame creaked with Javier’s thrusts as he slowly lost himself in you.

“Javs, yes… don’t stop, please…” you whine as he keeps slamming into you harder.

“Say my name again,” one thrust.

You mumble, trying your best to let his name tumble out of your voice box.

“Please, say it.” he trusts again.

“Javier…” his cock literally pushes his name out of you.

Suddenly, Javier pulls out and flips you over before you could lean towards your pleasure. You whimper at the emptiness you felt, your pussy fluttering around nothingness. You felt your arms being gathered at your back by one of Javier’s arms and he bent you backwards so that your chest stuck out. You gasped for air, sweat sticking bits of your hair to your forehead.

“Who do you belong to?” his mouth was back on your neck, leaving kisses in between his questions.

“You…” you clearly did by the way he had just used you.

“Never going to let a filthy criminal touch you again.” he growled in your ear and you smiled, coming to your senses.

“Says the criminal who is touching me.” you feel a spike in your confidence as the words leave your mouth, only to have it crashing back to ground zero as Javier dropped you onto the bed.

“Oh you’re going to regret that, mariposa.” he says and you could visualise him grabbing his cock and feeling the stretch as he shoves himself back into you.

His hand inched its way around your throat, and he pulled you up again, making you choke. Your pussy betrayed you as you clenched down on him, making him laugh deliriously.

“You fucking like it when I did that to you yesterday, didn’t you, you slut.” his hand grips harder at your throat, squeezing ever so slightly, his touch is forceful, masterful, alluring with the hidden depths of just the right amount of sensuality as he pulls your head closer to his. You helplessly tried to ask him to keep going, came out of your mouth like hot garbage from the strain his hand was putting on your throat.

“Harder, I need it harder.” you breathlessly spoke.

“I know, baby, I know” his soft words were a huge contrast with the way he was manhandling you.

Now all you can think of is his hard cock, there’s a pulsing in your head, a dizzying, nauseating feeling overcomes your entire body. You can feel his hard body pressing against yours and all thoughts of the night left your head, leaving a void that was soon filled with disgusting, disturbing thoughts. You want this man to fucking ruin you, you had tasted the sin on his lips and you couldn’t help yourself but want more.

Moaning and whimpering you cum before you even know what’s happening. It was blinding again and you literally lost all sight as your tight cunt contracts and squeezes his cock as tight as you can over and over again in time with his hips thrusts. He doesn’t stop pounding your wet cunt and you let him chase his own orgasm as more filth spills out of his mouth. He makes a wet slapping sound as he fucks you from behind.

After a few more seconds of fucking your cunt you feel him tense up. He lets go of your neck and pulls your hips tight to his and his cock flexes and then begins to spurt his hot cum into you. He folds his body over yours, grunting as he tries to catch his breath, subconsciously canting his hips forward to ride out his own orgasm. His sweaty skin was sticking to yours as you felt his moustache against your neck.

“Fuck, Javs.” you say first, feeling his heartbeat against your back.

“Lo siento-”

“And he’s apologising again! What now, Peña?” you sigh.

Javier stays silent for a while before pressing his lips to your shoulder. The air around the both of you smelled like crazy sex and your brain was still slowly coming down from its high.

“Sorry for calling you a slut.” his hand trailed against your spine, tracing your tattoo.

“Jezz, Javs, you know I like it.” you said, keening into his touch as he smiled against your skin.

“I’m sorry for calling you a whore too.” you said, smirking as Javier’s hand kneaded your ass. “Although, I do mean it, you’re fuckin’ freaky as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” his hand left your cheek and came back down with a sharp smack.

Slowly he pulled out of you and you groaned, feeling his cum seep out of you. Two of his fingers pushed his cum back in, to no avail and he eyes your cunt as he does it over and over, accidentally pulling another orgasm out of your sensitive cunt from his trance.

“Oops.” he mumbles before gently flipping you onto your back and walking to the bathroom.

He slowly wipes you with a warm towel, avoiding any part of you that could have been potentially sensitive before tossing it aside and laying beside you. You pull his head into your chest and he leaves soft promising kisses onto your tits as you wrap your legs around his torso. You both fall asleep like that, not another word leaving your mouths as the after effects of your madness lulled the both of you into deep and dark dreams.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were not surprised when you woke up to an empty bed. A pile of fresh clothes sat at the edge and you sighed, willing yourself not to tear up at the abandonment you felt coursing through your veins. You stumbled into work all sore, every part of you hurting from the way Javier had treated you, including your heart. Cheers greeted you and you pulled your collar tightly around your neck as Steve stepped towards you with a cup of what suspiciously looked like whiskey.

“Let me guess, you guys got La Quiqa?” you said, taking the cup from Steve.

“Yep.”

You looked around for the one you needed to see the most but your eyes never caught him.

“I’m guessing you haven’t heard about Javier?” Steven suddenly says, making your eyes snap towards him instantly.

“What?”

“He turned himself in, just got on the flight back to D.C. for his re-evaluation.” Steve says, shrugging, but the sadness was evident in his voice.

Your head swimmed as you stared into your cup of whiskey. He has truly left you.

Without even a single goodbye.

You nod to no one in particular, anger driving you to stay upright. You sigh and walk towards your desk.

“What are you waiting for, Murphy?” You said shortly, “We have Escobar to catch.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few months later

Javier sat at the bar and swirled his drink in his hand revealing his past few months. He woke up every morning to the thought of you and tried hard to drink the feeling of you away with bottles of the shit he kept at home. But here he was, back in Bogotá, nervously tapping his leg, wondering when he would ever catch a glimpse of you.

He breathed heavily, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a cigarette. He placed it between his lips and searched for his lighter, but to no avail. He searched again and was ready to admit defeat when a light suddenly flashed before him.

“Hola patrón. Congratulations on the promotion.”

That voice.

The cigarette dropped out of Javier's mouth as he turned to stare at you. You wore an angry expression on your face, but Javier wasn’t phased. He was so happy to see your beautiful face that a dopey smile unwillingly spread on his face.

“Who’s the criminal now, you thieving little minx.” he snorted, snatching his lighter away.

“You fucking left me, you asshole!” you started to hit him.

He grabbed your arms and pulled you off the bar stool and flush to his body.

“No, I fucked you, then I left you. You need to work on your English, mariposa.” he smirked.

It only made you swing harder, but Javier was quicker, pulling your face towards him with his free hand and locking you down with a bruising kiss. You relax into his kiss and you feel him smile triumphantly and you let him, wrenching your arms out of his grasp and pulling him in by his tie.

You pull away and scowl at him, biting your lip slightly. You take a better look at his getup, smiling slightly at his more professional look, a contrast to the shirts he wore with open buttons.

“You know I had to go, mariposa, I couldn’t do it anymore.” he said, smoothing out your hair and kissing your forehead.

“I know. But that doesn’t make me any less mad.” you say, looking straight into his eyes as he pulled away.

“I know how to make it up to you?” he said, clearly testing the waters.

“Whatever you say, patrón.” you smirked, crashing your lips to his once again.

Translations:

- Mariposa: butterfly

- Los Pepes: Paramilitary group composed of enemies of Pablo Escobar.

- Lo siento: I’m sorry

- Sicario: hitmen

Reblogs are appreciated ~~

- Cariño: sweetheart

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kettle-flakes · 11 months ago

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k so slay the princess is rotting my brain but currently one big thought is chilling in my brain, and like- hear me out (sorry if my wording doesn't convey my thoughts well skskfjdjg)

but I don't think the damsel is entirely as shallow as some may see her as. HEAR ME OUT- compared to the other princesses, yes, she definitely more shallow. and she is also (at least when looking at deconstructed) poking fun at those trying to have an easy and work free romance route where the princess does whatever you like and loves you so, so much. i'm not saying she's supremely deep and that no one understands her but me, but I also don't think she exists solely to mock players with absolutely nothing to say about the nature of human permanence either.

does that make sense? more thoughts below- they're a bit disjointed though so warning ^^;

I personally think the damsel can also represent a very real form love, so to speak.

gimme a min to explain. I think what initially led me to this is a line from the narrator equating the smitten and the damsel to acting like teenagers in love. and that line sorta shifted my perspective a bit on her a little? seeing that kinda made me go "ohhhhhhh makes sense" like it really did remind me of two kids who don't entirely get what dating entails but still want to be together, and given the endgame sequence the damsel's section just kinda cemented this mindset for me.

for clarification the damsel has two(?) bits of dialog depending on whether she's deconstructed or not. If she isn't she says something along the lines of (iirc) "you had a desire and you set that desire free/not caring about what it took or costed you in the process" annnd?? like that's kinda wholesome to me?

like the damsel's love with the player isn't nearly as in depth, complicated, or complete as say the thorn, but it's a passionate love. it's also a naive love. the sort of love you'd find with, well, teenagers having a crush. of course when people get older they see those old crushes as frivolous and flat, but to the people experiencing them in the moment, it's real! it's serious! they were still willing to risk a lot just to be together. and at least at the start, you're willing to be killed by the princess if it means she's safe after having a battle of control against the narrator. it just reads as very human to me. they truly felt that their love could conquer anything.

I feel the thorn is a more 'adult' version of the damsel. it's that passionate love taking on a more mature form. it has more hardships to go through and way more pitfalls and mistakes that one can make compared to the more childish love like the damsel's. there's less theatrics and fanfare, and to me it feels more somber and quiet. it's a contrast between the high stakes emotion filled damsel, and the more intimate, tense, and self-aware thorn. ultimately in the end for both of them, they come to a realization that love is a powerful tool almost in a way that mirror each other.

some of the same occurrences leading up to the route are also shared between the two. like having the princess stab you in the prior route. I also think it's worth noting that in the thorn, the thistles can be seen as/can be referred to a prison of her own making. something she can leave if she was willing to make the effort to do so. it's similar to the damsel's shackles being easily slipped off her wrist. she could free herself.

also by extension, say what you will about the smitten but he loves the princess no matter what form she takes. even when she kills him he still adores her. he is content with being cooked alive by the princess if that's what she wants. i think he's a lot like the damsel in that sense. whatever she wants, she will have. if the damsel is molded to love the player, the smitten is absolutely molded to love the princess in the same way.

#ok that got really long #halfway through i realized the thorn and the damsel have a lot of parallels and my brain exploded sorry #i really love this game and have so many more thoughts but those need other posts :((#someday soon someday soon...#slay the princess #stp spoilers #slay the princess spoilers #♡ -> post time !

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felassan · 3 months ago

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The Infocomm Media Development Authority is a statutory board under the Singapore Ministry of Digital Development and Information. It has a website which has things like ratings classifications for video games for its region (Singapore).

This is what it lists and describes for Dragon Age: The Veilguard, bolded emphasis mine -

"Extended Classification Information ‘Dragon Age The Veilguard’ is an action-roleplaying game set in the fantasy lands of Thedas. The protagonist takes on the role of Rook to explore a world where corrupt ancient gods have broken free and are trying to wage destruction. Rook must gather a powerful team of companions to save the world. The game is rated M18 for nudity and sexual references. From a third-person perspective, the player controls Rook to traverse through varied locations, interact with other characters, undertake quests and battle fantastical enemies (creatures, demons, and humanoids comprising humans, elves and other fantasy races. The player can choose to customise the protagonist’s race, gender, faction and combat class, which determines the weapons, abilities and powers that can be used in combat against enemies. Over the course of the game, the player can recruit companions of various race and gender to the cause. Completing quests and defeating enemies earns the player characters gold and experience to level up, unlock new skills, and purchase items. Some scenes may depict female characters topless, such as during the character customisation screen or in certain romance scenes. As the narrative progresses, the player can develop relationships with party members, and optionally pursue a romance with some, including with same-sex human and fantasy characters. These may culminate in scenes of intimacy depicting the characters kissing and embracing, with some accompanying suggestive dialogue before the screen fades to black alluding to sexual activity. The M18 Classification Guidelines permit “depictions of same-sex kissing and hugging”, and “some homosexual content, if discreet in treatment and not gratuitous”. There are scenes of realistic violence depicted during battle sequences and in some cutscenes. Characters are slashed and stabbed by melee weapons or shot by arrows and magic projectiles, with blood splattering and staining surfaces. During exploration, the player may come across bloodstained environments, and carcasses and corpses sprawled about, hung aloft or impaled by objects. A scene depicts an animal being sacrificed during a ritual and exploding in a large burst of blood. The dialogue contains some use of the expletive “f**k” and its variances, as well as the use of crude words such as “asshole”, “bastard”, “damn” and “shit”."

[source, via]

The animal sacrifice part is interesting. I wonder what kind of ritual, to whom or for what purpose? Tevinter, blood magic, Venatori..?

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #<- this is my spoilers tag #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #queerphobia cw #blood cw #gore cw #thanku the-rebel-archivist for sending me the link!#preparing to sacrifice a nug to elgar'nan as we speak

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junedenim · 4 months ago

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a vision trip

part 1 part 3

one day with a familiar face in a foreign country

word count: 10.4k

It's May in Paris. The breeze is light and the air is sweet. Alex sits in a cafe, picking at his nails, waiting. He nurses a coffee, but it's too bitter, and he's too nervous to ask for sugar or cream. He debates ordering food but decides to wait for his counterpart. He's tired. Too many shows and an overwhelming amount of traveling. There isn't much keeping him awake other than the people bustling around him and the person he's awaiting.

She was supposed to be here at 12 and it's 12:10 now. He won't complain. He isn't one for punctuality either. He can't think about the show tonight. It's draining but he'll soak up every minute of it. He just doesn't want to wait. He wants to take a nap. He'll wait 10 more minutes and then leave. It's fair enough.

He's tapped out. People-watching in Paris is quite a thrill. People sitting outside are smoking and he wishes he picked a seat out there so he could at least have a cigarette keeping him awake. There's a couple across the street either arguing or just passionately talking. It's hard to tell the difference.

Then, the chair across from him screeches across the floor loudly, drawing his eyes up. All the color drains from his face, his ghostly appearance recognizing the phantom that stands before him. His heart has fallen out of him. It's lying on the floor somewhere, the blood spurting out of it. Alex is certain he has fallen and hit his head and this is the dream sequence that plays in the movie. He's lost in a circle of time. It could be minutes or seconds, he sits there with his mouth begging to catch flies.

She smiles. That same fucking smile. Bright, pearly, the kind she'd give that made him want to lean in and kiss her. She looks the exact same. Even has a bandana on, although, now it's tied around the back of her head, holding that blonde hair back. It's longer now. She's dressed in jeans and a blue-and-white pinstriped button-up. It's almost like they are matching. Could be, if they wanted to with his trousers and white button-up.

He blinks like twenty times trying to clear his vision, make sure of this sight. Confirm this is real. It stays the same. "Holy fucking shit," he finally utters.

Her smile grows wider. "Wow," she sighs, "your French has gotten much worse. You're supposed to say bonjour."

Alex finally allows a smile to crack his face, despite his certainty that this can not be real. "What—what are you doing here?" His brows furrow, still unable to take in her whole image.

She takes off the saddle bag. It's leather this time. Not her old cloth one with the pins. She sits fully down in the chair across from him. A wide smirk displays across her face as she rests her head on her left hand. "Interviewing you."

As if this interaction couldn't get crazier and his jaw could possibly hang open wider. "Seriously?"

She gives him a pleased nod. "I don't usually do music but someone atmy work mentioned the Arctic Monkeys concert coming to town and the opportunity for an interview and I begged my boss."

He tries to quail his quickened heartbeat but she isn't making it simple. None of this is simple and he's gone dazed and crazed. He must have. "I can't believe you're here. You're in front of me. I feel like you're so calm and I've completely lost it."

"Well, I knew I would be seeing you again for about a month and I tried to regain my cool in front of the bathroom mirror for about 45 minutes. Do you want to go do that?" She points behind her to the toilets with a dream-inducing grin. She's proud of that joke.

"I might have to. Go in there and se branler." He motions jerking off loosely with his hand and it gets that precious fucking laughter out of her.

"You remember any French other than that?"

He gives a quick shake of his head. "No, not really." Prompting more laughter from her. He stares at her, giving her a thorough examination. "I can't fucking believe it. It's been 11 years, you know, how fucking crazy is that?"

"Don't tell me that." She rests her forehead in the palm of her hand. "I'm still trying to deal with turning 30 and that was 2 years ago."

He's amused by her. It's 11 years ago and yesterday for him. He feels they've snapped right back into place. No time has shifted and they are 21 again and this is what life would have been like if they had July in Paris. "So, you finally figured out your life," he recalls her ramblings. Revels in them.

She shrugs. "For the most part. It took a while but we're here. It was kind of, well, our day in Brussels helped point me in that direction. You probably don't remember"—he remembers everything, seriously—"but you made this compliment about how I had all these good questions or something and I thought, after you, well, told me about the whole band thing, and I figured out how big you actually were that I could do that for a living. Interview people. I don't usually do rockstars though not since you."

A thumping rings in his red-hot ears. He tries to take a deep breath and has to try several times. "What do you usually do?"

"Mainly the art section. I go to at least a dozen gallery openings every week but I love it."

"It sounds perfect for you. You helped me understand Magritte."

She smiles with pride. "You always had a keen eye. I only pointed you in the right direction."

He lets out a puff of air loudly and shakes his head. He doesn't look down at his hands but already knows they're shaking. "I'm sorry. I just can't fucking believe you're in front of me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

She giggles. "I didn't really either."

He becomes a tad solemn as he leans on his hand, closer to her. "Can I ask you something?" She nods. "Why didn't you come to the Paris show?"

She leans back in her chair and her demeanor shifts. She's remorseful-looking and toying with her hands. He supposes that habit has stayed the same. "I wanted to. I tried to be but I had got into this journalism program in Boston. I saw you there but I didn't think you'd want to see me after ditching you in Paris. I didn't really know how to get backstage or anything either. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. Why did you think I wouldn't want to see you?"

She tries to hide her face. "I swear I wasn't searching you up every night and stalking you but I saw you and your girlfriend back then, uh, Alexa. Didn't want to impose on anything because that was back when I didn't have the belief of women and men being friends."

"Like Harry Burns? I'd want to see you no matter what." He doesn't want to admit to her how hurt he was by her not showing up in Paris. How her name had been on every backstage list for the Favourite Worst Nightmare tour. Let alone that embarrassed trolling around Paris he had done. His start with Alexa, however serious that relationship ended up becoming, was rooted in getting over Lottie. He still hadn't fully dealt with that last part. Not until she sat in front of him and he realized.

"I had a different mind at 21," she explains. "I changed therapists."

He throws his head back in laughter. "What was the final straw?"

"Well." Her eyes drift away from his, looking down at her locked hands. "Moving to America was the main reason. I couldn't deal with any more defense of porn-addict boyfriend."

Alex takes a sip of his coffee, forgetting its bitterness, but enduring it to indulge in her sweetness. "She never let up on that one?"

"Not really."

Lottie orders a cappuccino and Alex, unsure of what to do, says, "You know, I have a concert later tonight."

"I know. I'm gonna go if that's alright. For the article and everything." She says it like she's informing him, rather than asking for permission.

"Well, I don't have to be at the venue for another couple of hours and I've never really gotten the chance to explore Paris." The smile that spreads across her face tells him she knows what he is thinking.

She snickers, "I should get a flat day rate for being your tour guide."

He leans forward on the little cafe table between them. "Come on, I'll give an exclusive. Complete unabridged day with a rockstar."

She giggles. "My boss would be very mad if I didn't take that."

"Perfect." He means every bit of that. His 21-year-old self's fantasies are finally coming true. Imagining life as it truly should have been. He thinks how much he has changed since then. How much he has stayed the same. She's stayed the same in his mind. A ghostly presence in his mind. An angel that came and visited for a day. She looks much of the same, especially compared to his differing appearance. Longer hair, less scrawny, light stubble regrowing post-goatie. He's grown into himself more, no longer an awkward boy under a hoodie. He's getting hot under his suit jacket. "So, what have you been up to the past 11 years?"

George points a finger at him. "Aren't I supposed to be asking you questions?"

He smirks and leans back in his chair. "No, see that's part of the deal. You tell me what you've been doing for the past decade and answer all my questions and I might tell you exclusive material. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain."

She raises an eyebrow but smiles and nods. "Let's see the last 11 years. I mean, I lived in Boston for 5 years. About 5 years too many."

"Why? Did you hate it?"

She tilts her head back and forth in an indifferent gesture. "It's a nice city but I don't think I belong in America. I fell into a fantasy there. By the time I had been there 5 years, I felt I had been living a lie the whole time. You know, I didn't like my apartment or my friends or even my job and I was 26 and it was either change my shit now or live like this for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, yeah. I feel that now. I've been out in LA for about 5 years now but had never really settled until this past year. I loved it my first year. It was so different than anywhere I've ever lived but last year was the first time I had been there a full year and I think I hate it."

"America's a mess now anyway. I couldn't imagine living in LA. It doesn't seem fun."

Alex shrugs. "I like it but I think I've fallen away from it. And everywhere is a mess now anyway. Brexit's happened and England's a mess and I haven't even lived there fully since 2008 but part of me thinks I'd like it."

"When I moved back to Paris after Boston, I felt my whole body realigned and I'm not one for that energy crap but I think there has to be something to these places because I immediately felt a relief I had never felt in Boston." His head is filled with thoughts of telling her, I know exactly what you mean, I feel it right now looking at you.

"Maybe after this next tour but I don't know if me girlfriend would do it. She already moved out to LA for me. I'd feel shitty making her move to a whole other country."

"Is she American?"

He nods, even though he has a feeling she already knew that but she's trying not to seem like she already has all the answers to him already from her research. "You seeing anyone?"

Her face crosses. "Kind of." Her resolve breaks with a laugh. "God, how embarrassing is it that I'm 32 and kind of in a relationship?"

"I think you're fine. 32 is still young. You don't have to worry about that for another decade."

She leans forward with intensity, the same level she had at 21. "Except, I'm getting down to the wire here as far as having children." He throws his head back in laughter. It's nice to know that she hasn't changed a bit in 11 years. "I'm serious. And, I know, I know, science is so advanced these days and there are millions of children to adopt and blah blah blah but I don't want to be a 50-year-old pregnant woman or a single mother. I mean, I'm not opposed to it but I don't think there's anything wrong with having the fantasy of the nuclear family. Except I don't know if I really want that or that's just societal pressure I'm feeling."

It's deja vu for him of the romantic nostalgia variety that if he could package it into a pill and take it as a prescription forever, he would. "You said the same thing in Brussels."

She groans in frustration. "Great, so I'm a broken loop. I'm a woman moaning about men and babies. I put shame on all the feminist icons."

He waves his hand at her. "I think you're fine and it's nice to know how you feel about these things, even if it's the same. I feel that way right now."

"With children?"

"Yeah, I mean, most of me friends have settled. Everyone in the band has kids and I don't know if I want that. Me girlfriend wants that, I think, but I can't imagine touring and having kids at home. I still feel too young to have kids or to get married."

She groans, "Yuck. Don't even get me started on marriage."

"Don't believe in it?"

"I don't want to. I think if I was with someone who really wanted it then maybe but when I was engaged it felt like such a doomful thing."

She nonchalantly says it but he needs to know. "You were in engaged?"

Lottie gives a small head nod and sips her cappuccino. The subject is still an odd one for her. "For about 6 months in 2012. It was a disaster, to say the least, mostly on my part. He was a good guy but I was too immature to settle and he was the last thing keeping me in Boston. Once that ended, I came back to Paris."

"You were engaged to an American?" He leans forward with intrigue. It shocks him for some reason.

She furrows her brows. "Aren't you dating an American?"

"Yeah, but it's different," Alex excuses.

"How?"

There isn't actually a difference other than bubbling jealousy but he can't admit that. So, he shrugs. "I'm a lowly Brit and you're a sophisticated French girl dating an American, let alone one from Boston."

She tilts her head in slight agreement. "He was awfully rowdy."

"Was he a big Red Sox fan?" Alex jokingly asks.

She sticks her tongue out and shakes her head. "Yuck, don't talk to me about baseball. Sports is the primary reason I left. His family had season passes and it was like the Salem Witch Trails if you didn't go to every game."

"See this is why I can't picture you engaged to an American."

"Fair point," she says. "What about your girlfriend?"

"Oh." He doesn't know why he's taken aback by the question. It makes him stir with guilt. It's not that he doesn't love his girlfriend, he has a fucking tattoo with her name, but suddenly Lottie sits down in a cafe in Paris across from him and he is thrown.

"She's great." He stops there but then Lottie stares at him and he realizes he's being short. He stares down at his cup. "She's—she's funny, beautiful, and very lovely." The description doesn't exactly help his case.

She doesn't push him any further. In fact, she smiles, and says, "She sounds nice. I'm sure you don't deserve her."

Alex chuckles initially at the comment but it grows painful inside of him. He struggles to digest it and the words weigh heavy as it turns from a joke into the truth. He shakes it off as best he can. "Who is this 'kind of' relationship?"

She sighs loudly. "We met at this weird work function. He works as a freelance photojournalist and travels to these warzones for months at a time and then he'll be here for a month or 2 before heading off again."

"Wow," Alex utters. How can I compete with a warzone photojournalist who is kind of her boyfriend? He shakes it. You don't need to compete because you have a fucking girlfriend, you idiot. "That's cool." Idiot.

"Yeah." She displays a similar demeanor as him: outmatched with no chance of catching up. "It's—he's a good guy. He does this incredible work but I can't help but constantly feel undercut by him. It's not his intention but—no offense to you—I'm telling him about some avant-garde art show I just reviewed and he's like 'That's great, I'm photographing Syrian refugee camps.' You feel like a complete loser next to him."

"You're helping keep art alive and maybe I'm stroking me ego too much but isn't that what we need during all these shitstorms? It feels like the only thing keeping me sane at times."

She leans forward onto her hand and smiles and, fuck, he feels his heart skip a beat. He can't shake her off of his skin, off his mind, off his heart. If he was a smart guy—a good guy—he'd do the interview, and leave. Play the show and leave France. Go home to his girlfriend and leave Lottie as a fantasy in his mind for the rest of his life. But then he thinks about his 21-year-old self who swore he wouldn't let her become that to him. Someone he would lie awake at night and imagine what life would be like if he got her. She's danced in and out of his mind through the years, but he'd be lying if he didn't think about what would have happened if she showed up in Paris. She got on that London-bound train. If they exchanged fucking phone numbers. He can't lie awake and think what would have happened if he didn't shun her. "Do you want to walk around now maybe?"

"Sure." She eagerly stands up.

She opens her bag and takes out her wallet. He holds his hand out. "You have to let me pay for your coffee, at least. I never paid you back for the hotel." The thought of the hotel room sends shivers down his spine.

Alex tosses a few bills to cover the check and then some. She giggles, "You finally have Euros."

He shrugs with a hidden smirk too shy to show him how pleased he is that she remembers. Even if it's his dorky mistake. "A little more prepared this time."

They exit the cafe into the Latin Quarter with Lottie leading the way to their next location. Their pace is the same as it was in Brussels. In step with one another through talks of one another's lives.

"What has the last 11 years been like for you?" She returns his question to him. "I mean," she admits, "I know some of it."

Alex narrows his eyes at her. "You've been keeping tabs on me, Lottie?"

She breaks eye contact away from him and shrugs but the smile that breaks through tells him everything he needs to know. He gets too much of a kick of that. "Well, you're not the easiest to avoid. I also did get really into your music after, you know, Brussels and all."

It pleases him until a realization drops his heart into his gut. He looks for a display of any reaction on her face but she keeps steady and walks ahead. He won't say it if she doesn't. Maybe she doesn't even know. Maybe only he paid attention to that kind of thing. Maybe only he paid attention to their hotel room number.

"I mean," he exhales loudly. "Everything you know is probably the extent."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, in the last 11 years all you've done is music. That's not true."

And, sure, it's not, but it kind of is. He doesn't want to tell her about his ex-girlfriends and he doesn't need to indulge her in whatever stupid stories he has of LA. "I think it is. It sounds pretty depressing, doesn't it?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think so. You're living a pretty cool life. Unless you don't see it that way."

"No, it's just..."

"What?"

"I feel like I've been in the same place since I was 21. I'm stuck in some cycle that I can't stop. I know I've changed and I've had experiences. I mean, I lived in New York for a little and I've been in LA for a while but when you're touring for more than a year at a time for pretty much a decade, it's hard to feel significant changes."

"I feel the same way since moving back to Paris."

"Really?" It's hard to feel like anyone knows how he feels. Everyone around him has had big life changes and he feels...the same.

"Boston was a whirlwind but it was my 20s. Now, I get up and go to work every day and I go home and repeat it. I have friends and we go out for dinners but I'm not getting married, I'm not having children, and I'm not visiting Antarctica. I'm still. For years, I liked that feeling but now..."

He finishes, "You feel stuck."

"Yeah. I swear I'm not depressed. I'm not going to throw myself in the Seine or anything."

He chuckles. "No, no. I know what you mean. It's just growing pains."

"Pft," she says, "at 32 I thought that would be over with."

"I don't think it ever goes away."

"At least I'm not getting zits anymore."

"Small victories."

She points her finger out. "There's this park, the Luxembourg Gardens, down the road. It's beautiful if you'd like to go."

And just like before, where she leads, he will follow.

"My father died last year," she tells him.

He isn't sure what to say. For the first time, he touches her, places his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head and shrugs. "No need. I never really knew him."

"Oh," he says, "I didn't know that." He suddenly realizes that the perception he had of Lottie for the last decade has been shaped by one day, not even a full 24 hours. A time they spent together where he didn't even know that she never knew her father.

"Yeah, I never—I don't talk about it very much. I feel like I've finally started to work through some of the childhood trauma shit that I swept under the rug for so many years. My parents' relationship was complicated."

"In what way? I don't mean to be nosy—"

She interrupts to reassure, "Never. You never are." She smiles over at him like a sunray. "I like telling you these things. It feels like a vessel I can put it in and send out to sea. I know you'll never tell another soul, right?"

He motions locking his lips and tossing the key. It makes her giggle and he forgot the thrill he got from doing that.

"My father was married when my maman had my brother and me. Never divorced his wife. I have a half-sister I've never met. She's like 20 years older than me."

Alex doesn't mean to have a visible reaction but he can't help but utter, "Wow."

"Yeah." She slips her hands into her jeans' pockets. "I don't know. I've been trying to work my way through all of it. I think I feel grief over it but I'm not sure if I'm mourning his death or the potential relationship we could have had."

"I don't know. I've never been in that type of situation with death. You know, the finality of everything. But with people that I've drifted away from, I imagine all these what-ifs." It's hard to ignore the person he's talking about is right next to him. "What I could have done differently to make them stay or like me or whatever but I've realized that no matter what you do it doesn't change the way the other person is. With your dad, I can't imagine not wanting to know you. Something must have been wrong with him."

"Probably," she agrees before laughing. The thickness of the conversation is split in two as they both laugh lightness into the air.

"So, you just grew up with your brother and mother?" Alex asks.

Lottie pulls a face, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips. "I wish. My mom had her series of boyfriends. Some better, some worse. Nothing bad and she never married any of them but it was a weird revolving door. The longest one was the British diplomat. That's why my English is so good. Well, if I do say so myself."

"I still can't speak a lick of French so you're 1000 times better than me."

"I can't help it if I'm so fabulous," she jokes as she skips into the gardens. He's left watching her cheer from six paces behind. Mirth floods him and he feels a snap inside him like a glowstick coming to life. She's lit him up all over again. Prescribed him exactly what he needs. If he was smart, he'd leave now. He got his fix and he should go to the concert venue and leave it at that. He walks into the Luxembourg Gardens.

Alex follows her as she walks through the green parterre of gravel and lawn. The area is decently populated but the wide expansion of the park prevents any crowding. He can't stop staring at the back of her. It's not in some sexual desire way. He's not staring at her ass. He's not really focused on one area. He watches the way her trainers plant their way into the ground. The way her bandana flutters from the wind. The way her hair moves slightly side-to-side with each movement. He wonders if she takes him in this way. Noticed the way his loafers tap into one another every once in a while when he's walking. The way his hands are in his jacket to prevent the wind from blowing it around. The way he has had to keep pushing his hair behind his ears.

Then, she stops and sits in one of the metal chairs they have, Alex sits across from her, and she says, "Your hair is longer."

Witch! She must be psychic. He pushes his hair behind his ear again as if on instinct. "Yeah, that's different. It's changed a lot through the years."

"Yeah, I know. The quiff was a funny one."

"Are you mocking me?" He leans closer and teases.

She giggles. "No, never."

"You don't look too different to me."

She scrunches her face up and scoffs, "Yeah, how plain am I."

Alex shakes his head slowly. "Not plain. You don't need to change anything about you. You were beautiful then and you're beautiful now." He's trending in territory he shouldn't but it makes her smile, like really smile. She turns her head away from him and covers her mouth with her hand.

"Whereas you still look ugly," she mocks with a smug smile.

His jaw opens dramatically. "You are mean, Lottie."

"I'm kidding," she reassures. "You've always been a charming-looking man."

"You make it sound like I'm some dandy."

Her face twists up again. "What's that?"

"A dandy?" She nods. "For once, I know something you don't."

"You know many things I don't."

"Yeah, right."

"I can't carry a tune to save my life. In fact, I should win an award for not attempting to ever play music."

"I don't know. I think if you applied yourself to it you could be good."

"Are you trying to recruit me to your music school, Mr. Turner?" It's the first time she's said his last name ever and he realizes he doesn't know hers.

"You could be a good triangle player." She punches his arm when he says that. He asks, "What's your last name?"

She smirks. "Guess."

"I don't know. Something really French."

"No. Guess."

"I don't know," he says again. "Something like Bonaparte or whatever."

"No. Guess."

"We're going to be here all day if you don't at least help me narrow it down."

She grabs hold of his face, hands on his cheeks, which are growing embarrassingly rosy. "My last name is Guess."

His face drops. "Wait. Your last name is Guess. Charlotte Guess."

"Yes and ew. Don't call me Charlotte."

He sighs loudly, "I don't know, Charlotte. You put me through a lot of trouble there."

She relinquishes her hold on his face and leans back in her chair. He's unnerved by how the cold rushes to his body as soon as she isn't close. "You'll manage."

She oozes cool, always has. She props a leg up on the chair and leans back with such freeness that wasn't there 11 years ago. She's not twisted up inside, she looks relaxed. He wants to ask her how to get there. Lately, he's felt like knots of stress. Any effort to dissipate has been met unsuccessfully because he can't put a finger on what's causing all of it.

"You know," she says, "I do have to interview you at some point."

He waves her off. "I know, I know, but I'm still adjusting to the fact that I'm seeing you right now. I want to know more about you."

That hint of a smile comes back to her cheeks. "Like what?" The tip of her shoe knocks on his shoe and he isn't sure what to make of it. Looks down and wishes he could take a photo of it.

"Do you still paint?"

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head in disbelief. "You remember that I paint?"

Alex doesn't see it as a big deal. Why wouldn't he remember all those little things? "Yeah, and you're a decent cook, right?"

"Jesus," she lets out under her breath. A quickened heart rate and a brush of pink to her cheeks. "I don't even think my mother remembers I paint. I still do it from time to time. I was never very good at it."

He shakes his head. "I doubt that."

"You never seen anything I've painted."

"I don't need to see it to believe it. If you think it's bad it's probably better than what most people, including myself—especially myself—can do."

"Well, maybe if you're lucky I show you something."

"I'd like that." He hates how much he'd like that. "What do you paint?"

She shrugs. "This. That. Abstract kind of things. I like painting faces but I'm not very good at that. I get the proportions all mixed up."

"Like Magritte or something?" He chuckles.

She shakes her head. "Not quite. More like that botched restoration of that Jesus painting."

Alex can't help but think of the two of them standing before A Stroke of Luck and the cigar, but not a cigar painting (so, screw him, he can't remember the name of it). His mind can't help but reminisce on them in the park sitting in the grass afterward. Lottie, delicate and cherubic, picking flowers to place behind his ear, and then, kissing her. If he reaches out into the memory, he can practically still feel his hands on her skin.

"Do you want to go to another art museum?"

"What like the Louvre?"

"Sure."

She laughs. "I am not going to the Louvre."

But Alex is already standing and reaching his hand out to her. "Come on, I've never been."

She sighs and places her hand in his. It's soft like a baby's freshly washed skin. His hand feels rough against the smooth surface, callouses old and new can be felt. Alex pulls her up out of her chair and they begin to walk to the park's exit. "How have you never been to the Louvre?"

"I've never had time," he explains. "Generally when I've visited Paris it's been for a limited number of days."

"But didn't you record the album in La Frette? Couldn't come in on a day off for the Louvre?" She's still holding his hand. He's not being responsible, he knows.

In fact, he's passed irresponsible when he leans in close to her ear and says, "I missed when you didn't know anything about me."

She giggles and shrugs her shoulders. "I'm the one taking you to the Louvre at 1 in the afternoon with no tickets. I think you can manage the sacrifice."

"You must go all the time considering your job," Alex says.

Lottie says, "Oh, I haven't been to the Louvre in over a decade," before bursting out into laughter.

"And you're shaming me for having never gone?"

She lets go of his hand and wags her finger at him. "Hey, I have at least gone. Multiple times! And the Louvre isn't exactly a place getting new and upcoming art all the time." She drops her hand back down to her side. Their hands never re-intertwined. "The last time I went I was 17 and I made out in the staircase with Alain Millardet the whole time."

"So, you really saw all the sights." He follows her directions as they cross the street.

Lottie gags from the memory alone. "He was a horrible kisser and we ended up getting caught by an employee. They told our school—our Catholic school, by the way—and it was the only time I ever got in trouble. The only thing that lessened the blow was that my maman was away with her boyfriend and never found out."

"You were a goody-two-shoes in school," Alex teases.

Lottie squishes up her face. "What does that mean?"

He grins at the way her little button nose is scrunched up, her eyes slightly squinted, the wrinkle formed between her brows. "Just means you're a rule follower."

"Oh." She giggles. "I just didn't get caught." Every inch of her intrigues him. The secrets she has buried deep within that he has an eagerness to uncover. The flip of her hair as she walks her way down the streets. Her hands clutch the brown leather strap of her bag. Those blue eyes glancing over at him as ripples of laughter echo through her.

They begin to cross over the Seine when she tells him, "This is the Pont des Arts. It used to be covered in locks, you know, the thing where couples put a lock on the bridge and throw away the key, but they had to remove it after the bridge nearly collapsed, which thank god because I had one with my ex-boyfriend on it and I couldn't bear the thought that we would be locked here together eternally."

Alex chuckles and puts his hands in his pockets. "Me first girlfriend did that with the lock she used for her locker. At the end of the school year, she wrote our names on the back and locked it to a fence. About a month after we broke up, I walked by the fence she'd put it on and it was gone. She had gone back and removed it."

"Aw," she coos, "poor girl. You probably broke her heart."

"Thanks for your lack of pity for me, Lot." She grins at the nickname. "How do you know she didn't break my heart?"

"Because only a heartbroken girl would go back and remove the lock."

"Yeah."

Alex gazes up and spots the glass pyramid, realizing they've already made their way to the Louvre. The courtyard is populated with people taking pictures of and with the structure. Someone is playing violin, likely busking, in the distance.

As they approach the building, Lottie gasps and then begins to laugh. "What?" Alex asks with a hint of his own reactive laughter.

She gives him a funny frown. "It's Tuesday, isn't it?"

Alex confusedly responds with a dragged-out "Yeah."

She snickers. "The Louvre is closed on Tuesdays."

They both just take to laughing in the middle of all the tourists. Lottie clutches his forearm, which he reciprocates, making their arms plank over each other. Then, Lottie suddenly stops, stands up straight, and looks him in the eye, saying, "Time for me to interview you."

Alex chuckles, "Nice try." He takes to guiding them out of the courtyard, walking ahead of her. "Where to next?"

She's right behind him. Alex can feel the edge of her bag touch his butt. "Are you trying to get me fired?"

The pleasure he gets out of taunting her should probably be illegal. "You'll get your interview," he promises. "I've already given you so much unknown information. I've never been to the Louvre, still to this day, my French is horrible, and I'm desperate to see some art so why don't you show me some of yours."

They pause at a crossing. "Are you trying to invite yourself to my apartment?" She has a habit of making him flustered easily. Her fluttering lashes flapped away at him. He swears they blow an ocean breeze his way.

He plays a tricky game. "Well, if we go to your apartment, maybe you'll finally get your interview." The light flashes green and he walks ahead.

She trails behind fighting a crooked grin. "I highly doubt that."

Alex hums.

Either way, they headed off in the direction of her place. Down the stairs to the metro where they wait for the 4 train. The platform is sparsely crowded, predictable for a Tuesday afternoon just before rush hour.

"I have to say something." Her demeanor is coy. She's holding her hand in a fist up against her mouth. Her eyes peer up at him demurely. "I've been debating whether to say it or not but I figure out with it. No secrets, you know."

Alex nods curiously. "Okay."

"The song."

The two words make a chill go through him. Spins around his spine and hits each vertebrae. She does know. He can't help but physically react, muttering, "Oh, god," and placing his hand on his forehead in exasperation.

She giggles at his reaction. He is only calmed by the fact that she doesn't sound pissed. Still, he feels embarrassed. "It's one of your most popular songs."

Alex doesn't care. He lived up off the hope that she had somehow missed that one. Or she only ever listened to the most recent album for her work assignment. When he wrote it, it was felt under the impression he would see her again. Not under the impression that in 11 years he would be standing on a metro platform with her about to be interviewed by her.

He re-establishes himself. He gets his footing, drops his hand from his face, and looks over at her. She's still looking amused by his reaction. The train pulls up to the station. "Which one?"

He is able to get a chuckle in when her jaw drops slightly. Feeling he has the upper hand, he hops on the train, having her dash behind him. Alex finds two empty seats and takes a seat next to the window. Lottie sits down next to him.

She seems to have composed herself. Tight jaw and curious lips. "Now, I meant 505, what are you on about?"

Alex shrugs. "Pft, who said 505 was about you?" He is staring straight ahead, calm, cool, and collected.

Her eyes are glued to him, watching his every move. "I'm not an idiot, Alex, I can read. Our hotel room was 505."

"Oh, what a weird coincidence." He is almost chuckling with pride in his humorous fibbing abilities.

"Come on. I doubt many girls were lying on their side with their hands between their thighs for you, Alex." That memory strikes him hard. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can still trace the outline of her body in his mind, memorizing every crevice.

He chuckles with a wide grin. "It was a nice memory."

She crosses her arms in a pleased manner. "I knew it was about me."

"Yeah, well, I had a lovely time with you." His eyes are intently on hers. A knowing smile is splashed across his face.

She returns the favour. They are in a duel with their eyes, fighting grins in their smiles. "Me too."

"Good."

She leans in closer. "Now, what's this other song about me?"

Alex looks away from her, gazing at the station they are approaching. "I think this is our stop."

He tries to stand up and she grabs his arm and yanks him back down. "Shush. You have no clue where we are even getting off."

Her hand stays gripping his forearm, keeping them steady. His gaze is resistant if ever pleasurable. His eyes trained on the doors and unsure of what to say, tossing between giving it up or burying it away. He plays with his hands, bringing them together, and then apart, and then back together. "I wrote this song, you know, in the, uh, hypothetical sense."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, whatever that means. Out with it. You know, people are usually flattered by the thought someone would think of them enough to write a song about them. Let alone two."

"Alright," he calms. "The song isn't really all about you. I guess, you sparked the original idea."

She gestures for him to continue. "And?"

"Cornerstone."

She leans back against the train's wall. A small smirk plays on her face. "Really? You were seeing me all around town?"

He can't help but smile, although, forced to shield it behind his hands covering the surface area of his face. "Don't make me sound like a creep."

"No, no. It all feels like flattery." She looks like she wants to say something else but keeps it to herself. He's tempted to ask but she's pointing slowly to the train station and softly saying, "This is our stop."

They get up as the train stops. The doors stay closed though. "Flip the handle up," Lottie says.

He grabs hold of the door handle and follows her instructions. The door opens at a quick speed. So quick that Alex, still with his hand on the handle, nearly gets his arm yanked off. Lottie erupts in laughter behind him. He sucks in a breath and steps off the train. She places her hands on his shoulder as she follows behind him, too blind with laughter to properly guide herself.

"You're really making a fool out of me today." Alex turns around as they ride the escalator up.

She's still emitting giggles when she says, "I'm sorry. It was too tempting though."

Her apartment is just outside the metro station. The building, Haussmann in style, is cold and dark in the stairwell. Lottie tells him to watch his step as they head to the second floor before she flips on a switch outside her door. Before she unlocks it, she turns and tells him, "I'm a messy person and you have rudely barged in on me so you can not judge."

Alex agrees and she unlocks the door. She has, of course, exaggerated the mess of the place. It's a loft of a decent size. Her bed is in the far corner, unmade with a plum-coloured mandala-printed blanket thrown over it. Clothes from this morning are strewn about the floor. Her kitchen is small and her plate from breakfast is still in the sink. In the back corner, across from her bed is a collection of canvases. They are all turned inward making him unable to look at any of them.

Lottie stands awkwardly in the kitchen, hands behind her back, bobbing on her feet. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water? Alcohol?"

He chuckles at her delivery, struck by her grace. "I'll take a tea."

"Okay." She busies herself with that as he examines the room closely. A shelf of books piled to the brim. There's a vase of flowers on a lower shelf. On the bottom: a record collection. He smiles to himself. "Can I put on a record?"

"Sure," she absentmindedly says. She's showing Alex her tea packets: black, green, mint, ginger. Black, he picks.

She stills at the opening strings. Her heart patters at the clacking of the castanets. I found my love in Portofino...

She dips the tea bags into the hot water and turns around. She leans against the counter, staring at him at the place he has taken on her small loveseat. "You know, I got a record player because of this album."

His arms are crossed and he looks pleased with himself. "Inspiring a new generation to buy records. You know, AM is one of the best-selling vinyls of the 2010s."

She squints playfully. "Are you usually this boastful about yourself?"

"Stop, you're making me feel like a self-absorbed asshole."

Lottie crosses her arms, playing his game back to him. "What's the saying? If the shoe fits."

"Hush now. Sit." He pats the seat beside him. The air is thick and she cuts through it by walking over to him with two cups of tea.

She prompts hopefully, "Interview time?"

Alex ignores her. "You know, I went and bought my own copy of this."

"The record?"

He nods. "God, I'm such a dweeb."

She shakes her head. "No. It's a good record."

He gazes over at her knowingly. His chin is tilted down and his eyes are blazing at her. "I didn't buy it because it was a good record."

Suddenly, she breaks. "You can't do that."

Alex gets the message, turns away, and focuses on the warm mug in his hand. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No," she reassures, calm and clear, "it's fine. I just can't sit next to you in my apartment with you saying things like that and not..."

"Not?" He tries to get more out of her.

She gazes over at him knowingly. Her chin is tilted down and her eyes are blazing at him. "You know."

He nods.

"I still have that photo of you. The one I took on that hill. It's buried deep in a drawer somewhere." She's tempting him and she knows it. She's not abandoning the topic of their romantic evening. She's not insisting on conducting an interview. She's flirting.

Alex smiles back pleased. "I probably look like a dork."

"Yeah," she dryly agrees making him laugh. "But a cute dork."

"Whenever I came to Paris, I would walk around, duck into all these cafes, and I had these visions of seeing you there. That's where Cornerstone came from," Alex confesses.

"I changed therapists because of you," Lottie confesses.

"What?"

She leans on her arm against the back of the couch. "It wasn't because I moved away. I came back from Brussels and told her about you and she said that you were a fantasy but not a realistic man. I shouldn't get my hopes up on delusions and should invest myself in some reliable man. That I was falling for a rockstar who probably did that thing all the time. The whole time she's saying this to me, I'm thinking, 'She has no fucking clue what she's talking about. Reliablity? Who has reliability at 21? My porn-addict boyfriend.'"

Alex laughs. "I still really love this porn-addict boyfriend of yours."

"Well, you and my therapist." The room goes quiet. She sinks into a corner of the couch and sighs. "So, you were the final straw."

"I've done that cafe shit every time I've been to Paris."

"What?" She sits up straighter.

"I just—I've always wanted to talk to you again. It felt weird when you didn't show up in July. I figured, or maybe hoped, something big happened for you not to be there."

She's stiff and awkward and looks down at her legs, awkwardly stiff. "I tried to be there. I wanted to. You have to know, if it weren't for the program, I would've. I mean, I still go to your shows, and listen to your records, and, for crying out loud, I harrassed my boss into letting me interview you. He probably thinks I'm some obsessive fan."

"Harrassed?" He raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Lottie looks up sheepishly with a shy smile. "Yeah, well, at this rate, I'm not even gonna have an interview."

"You'll have an interview. I'll give you the best fucking interview." There's something in the way he looks at her. The tone of his voice makes her believe he is a lion and she's the gazelle he's waiting to maul. But those eyes, soft and dreamy. Eyes she could fall asleep next to every night.

"And then you look at me like that and you think you're the soppy one. I'm falling to bits over here. I've felt crazy for 11 years but then you look at me like that."

"Why'd you feel crazy?"

"I thought I made the whole thing up in my head. Like I was some psycho who imagined a whole night with you just because I liked your song. I mean, I ruined every relationship because I was hung up on you."

"What?"

"And now I'm ruining any possible relationship with you by blabbing on about this. I can't help it, you've infected me, you've ruined me, and I sound crazy." She's messing with her hair to really emphasize this fact. "But I'm stuck on the Boston T, riding the slowest train ever, sitting next to this guy I'm about to marry, and we have nothing to talk about, and all I'm thinking is 4 years ago I got on the wrong train."

Her breathing is heavy. Rattling and refusing to calm her heart down. She can't distinguish what his eyes mean.

Alex is quiet when he speaks. "Fucking hell, Lot."

Any move he thinks about making is interrupted when she quickly stands from the couch and separates herself from him by pacing in the kitchen. She clutches her hands around her face, cheeks trying red. She takes a deep breath and says, "I think you should leave. I'm sorry for that whole display. I'm so lost in myself and I'm crazy and I'm sorry."

Alex stands and takes a step toward her. She takes one back like they are the same side of a magnet repelling one another. "Lottie."

"I'm sorry."

He takes a moment for himself too. Runs his hands through his hair, heart pounding he puts his hand over to still it and takes a deep breath. "No," he insists. "First, you're not crazy. Second, I haven't seen you in 11 years and I have thought about you for too long to let you go—go on that other train again." Something chokes him inside. Maybe it's the guilt, the thought of his girlfriend back home. Maybe it's Lottie, who looks two steps away from crying, and all he can think about is being left on that train platform again. "Third, we have to do the interview."

"Oh, god, that stupid interview." And then he laughs. So, she laughs.

Alex attempts to step toward her again, cautiously like she's a cat he is afraid he is going to scare off. She stays in her place. He leans down and hugs her. She's hesitant but then she hugs back. Tight like they are each a moment away from slipping out of one another's grasp.

Alex pulls away, but keeps an arm around her back, pushing them toward her front door. "So, let's go eat some lunch and do an interview."

She sniffles and then smiles over at him in a remorseful manner. "Okay."

They head to the cafe on the street corner. The conversation grew lighter and Alex joked that he still didn't get to see her paintings. She countered that she still hadn't interviewed him.

On opposite sides of the table, each holds a cigarette and chats over an ashtray. Lottie asks him questions regarding the album and Alex answers formally, which is almost too proper and comes off more jokey than serious. Nonetheless, she quotes him on it.

He grows hot and takes his jacket off, halfway through, around the time their dishes arrive. The interview, more-or-less, ends there as they each inhale their meals and split the stack of bread. "I'll be here tomorrow too, you know."

She nods. Of course, she knows.

"We could do the Louvre then."

She smiles with amusement at him. "You're really obsessed with the Louvre."

"I'm determined to go and now to get you to go. Maybe we'll makeout in the stairway and get caught by one of the nuns." The comment is cheeky and they both laugh at it, even if it should hold more guilty weight than it does.

A woman then approaches them. She's old, enough to be someone's great-grandmother. She speaks in French to Lottie, who has grown a furrowed brow, as she repeatably says no to the woman, who holds up a necklace at her.

"What's she saying?" Alex inquires.

Lottie sighs and says warningly, "Alex."

The woman smiles big and looks over at Alex. She speaks very broken English, but tells him, "Her neck, nothing." She gestures over to Lottie's bare neck, the way her top pulls down (notes of cleavage, but he's got to get his mind out of the gutter), accentuating the bareness of it. Alex has shameful thoughts in remembrance of kissing it. Fuck, he's screwed, if the pull of his pants says anything. The woman holds the necklace high in her hand. "For beauty. Beautiful woman needs beauty."

Lottie begins to speak in French to the woman as Alex wordlessly reaches into his wallet and pulls out a bill. The woman lights up in delight and accepts the €20 as Lottie shakes her head. "Her ears, nothing," the woman tries to push more.

Alex cheerfully says, "No, no, just the necklace. Merci beaucoup." The woman attempts again but Alex ignores her and her English is too poor to keep trying for another sale.

Lottie is staring at him. He can't decipher if it's a look of pleasure or unease. "You shouldn't have done that."

"The necklace is nice and I gave the poor woman some money. Now put it on."

She stays still for a moment but gives in and sits up to accept the necklace. It's simple. A chain with a small blue pendant on the bottom. It matches her eyes. She mutters a thank you, if for the gesture alone. After a few careful tries, she clasps the necklace. "I'll probably get some sort of infection from it."

He chuckles. "Probably."

They sit in silence with one another. They are stuck in the middle of a staring contest where fireworks spark between them. Alex breaks it and looks down at his empty plate, a flush of shyness overcoming him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Are you interviewing me now?" She giggles, pleased with her joke.

"Hey! I let you get all your questions in. It's my turn," he insists.

She relaxes back in her chair and crosses her legs. "Okay."

"What do you think would have happened if you got on the train with me? Or if you showed up to the concert?"

It draws a rough breath out of her. "We wouldn't have worked out."

His heart stills. It's not the answer he expected. All that wishful thinking that had swirled in his mind for the last 11 years. The feeling that if he had been able to convince her or was able to find her, they'd be living happily ever after. "Really?

She shakes her head. "Are you kidding? I was a mess. I had no idea of a future for myself. I would have been in Paris or Boston and you would have been on the road all the time. I would've definitely been one of those girls who thought you were cheating on her the whole time. I probably would have convinced myself of it and not believed you when you told me the truth. I was born the product of an affair. It is my blueprint to assume every guy I'm with is getting it somewhere else."

Alex feels hungover with guilt at the thought that what he is doing right now might as well be an affair, if only emotionally. He sighs, "Yeah, I mean, I was a mess for like...forever." They both laugh. "Every time I feel like I've gotten my shit together. Something comes along to pull the rug out from under me."

"What's it this time?" She's staring at him, doe-eyed and smiling.

He can't think of an excuse. So, he's honest. "You."

She's not offended by it. She smiles, though she does try and suppress it. "We should probably go to the venue. Right?"

Alex nods like hiding himself from the Parisian streets will get him out of this mess. Lottie insists on paying the bill, mainly because she isn't paying the bill, her work is. They could take a car over to the venue but Alex is overly enthusiastic about riding the metro over. "I have to redeem my shame. You know, in London we just have the button, so I can't be blamed for not knowing how to open the train door."

Lottie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

At the venue, Alex gives Lottie a quick introduction to his bandmates. He says nothing more than, "This is Lottie, the journalist," but they all respond with knowing looks. Alex gives her a tour, mostly through her insistence that it would be cool for the article if she could set the scene for the reader. Alex says, "You're a painter with your words." She rolls her eyes and he gives her the tour.

"And a soundcheck, what's that like?" She asks before, you guessed it, soundcheck.

Alex shrugs. He tends to be short with answers for most interviews, but with Lottie it's different. Not once has it felt like he is being interviewed. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing. "It's...good. You know, making sure everything works. Good, fun."

She's cheery with her questions like the kid who constantly raises their hand in class but she's endearingly earnest and the way she scribbles notes in her little notepad makes it feel so much more authentic than when someone sits a tape recorder in on their conversation.

She watches soundcheck in the same way. She'll write a little note at the end of each song but then she'll rest in her chair and observe the full play out.

Backstage, Alex separates himself and Lottie from the rest of the group, which is notable. He wishes they were walking around still, escaping all their responsibilities just like they were doing in Brussels. He supposes that's growing up.

Lottie says, "It's good. Last time I was a bumbling clueless girl with no idea of her future. Now, I'm a bumbling clueless woman with no idea of her future."

"Oh, come on, you have a great job. You're interviewing me and that might be one of the hardest tasks ever and you're doing amazing," Alex reassures.

She nods. "I know. I love my job but that's all I have. It's crazy when we were in Brussels, all I wanted was to figure out what I wanted to be. I finally did that and I feel just as lost."

"In what way?"

She thinks for a moment, deciding how she wants to form her words. "I wish I was like my old self more. You know, I used to be so hopeful, so romantic about the world. About myself. About the future. Now, I just think I'm going to be alone forever." She is quick to correct herself. "And—and I don't mean I have nobody. I have a great set of friends. I love my life but when I look toward the future, I see nothing. For so long, I didn't know what I wanted but there were always possibilities. Now, I don't know."

"I feel the same way," Alex confesses.

Lottie lifts her head in surprise. "Really?"

He nods. "It's what used to be so exciting about my life. Being in a new city every day and being able to set your own path. I still like most of that stuff but I feel behind everyone else in a way. You know, like how all the guys have kids and I don't think I'm ready for kids but should I be ready for kids? Do I want that? To be married? To have a family?"

"I don't think you're ever ready for that kind of thing. You are just ready for the feeling. You'll never be prepared enough for children that's what everyone says but I had a thought a while ago when, well, I had this pregnancy scare, which really was terrifying because the guy I was with is not a guy you want to have children with. My first thought for so long would have been 'I don't want children. I will not be birthing anything in my lifetime.' But when I had this scare, I think I liked the idea. Then, the test was negative and I breathed a huge sigh of relief." Alex chuckles at her dramatics as she talks with her hands. "But for those couple of minutes, I thought that being a mother wouldn't be so bad."

Alex smiles at her. "You'd be a great mother."

She looks up at him, all hopeful and disbelieving. "Do you really think so?"

Alex nods. "A few anti-depressants and you'll be fine."

Lottie rolls her eyes and raises her hands and starts moving her fingers. "Say stop."

"Stop."

She stops, extending her middle fingers only, flipping him off.

"That's good. Can I steal that?"

Lottie shrugs. "I don't have copyright on it."

A stagehand comes over and they realize how much time has escaped from them. Alex shuffles fixing his jacket as he stands, going into rockstar mode. "How'd I look?" He imitates a deep voice, gruffly and surly.

She giggles. "Like an asshole."

"You're so kind to me, Lottie."

"Maybe lose the jacket," she advises. Total professional opinion and not because he has three buttons loose on that white button-up that make her crave his skin. She's going too far, she knows, but she's a single woman. It's fine for her to observe.

Alex shakes his head and tightens his hands around the lapels. "I'm going to keep it on just to spite you." (He takes it off 4 songs in).

She walks him up the stairs to the stage but then says teasingly, "I'm going to watch from my assigned seat if that's alright with you."

He chuckles. "I'll look for you in the crowd."

She turns to leave and it's almost like she's fading from him all over again. Sure, they could get drinks after this and there's that rough plan for the Louvre tomorrow, but the image of her back to him walking away strikes something in him. "Hey, Lottie!" He calls out.

Alex catches her before she walks down the stairs. She turns around, curious eyes, curious smile. He's 21 and he's on a train to Brussels. He's 32 and he's in a cafe in Paris. No more what could have been. He knows.

"I think it would have worked out."

Lottie looks at him from across the wing. He toys with his fingers, hopeful eyes, hopeful smile. She's 21 and she's on a train platform in Brussels. She's 32 and she's backstage at a concert in Paris. No more doubts. She knows.

"I think so too."

a/n: part 3? i don't know. maybe...

#alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner fluff #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #junedenim #alex turner smut

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meidui · 4 months ago

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the way tony is so ruthless when he's fighting steve in siberia but then steve actually goes down and tony tells him to stay down but when has steve ever stayed down and this time tony just stands there watching him get back up and we don't get to see tony's face because the iron man helmet is on.... he was probably feeling the most convoluted compound of hurt and hatred and anger and admiration and oh my god i'm going to chew through his titanium gold alloy

i give this movie so much shit but the choice of showing robert's face versus only showing the exterior of the iron man armour in the sibera fight scene is so good because when we see his face either exposed or with the hud (did you know) (do you even remember them) (i don't care, he killed my mom) (so was i) (that shield doesn't belong to you, you don't deserve it, my father made that shield), he's being very human and sympathetic, and to me it kind of shows how steve is also seeing *tony* and we're reminded that tony is steve's friend and a protagonist as well, but when his face is hidden (for example when he blows off bucky's arm and during the whole sequence between "so was i" and steve finally disabling the suit) it's like he's being poised as the villain in the scene but then the helmet comes off in the end and tony's all battered and broken under there too just like steve is and aahhhhhh

what would it actually take for them to break up forever?? i think NOTHING because tony tried to kill james bucky fucking barnes and steve not only never faulted him for it, he sat down and wrote him a letter where his first words were "i'm glad you're back at the compound, i don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself" and the last words were "if you need me, i'll be there"???? and tony's bruise hasn't even healed yet when ross calls about the raft prison break and he doesn't think twice about covering steve's ass????? WHAT THE FUC K IS WRONG WITH THEM

#😭😭#THIS IS WHY STEVETONY BREAKING UP & MAKING UP FICS WILL ALWAYS GET US WHERE IT HURTS #and a reason i love endgame/post-endgame so much 🥺#they're just sick of the resentment and they're ready to move on because they can't live without each other either way #and they've been apart for long enough and been through enough to know that it's not worth it anymore #for some time they were both so bitter it almost stopped looking like love #but after so many years all the rancor has worn off and the love is still there #*#text*

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monstrouscrew · 9 months ago

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...

"but i want MEAT."

"it looks and feels almost like meat to Me. enough C, enough roughness for your itching teeth. also, iii went to buy some fresh reindeer, I made a portal for that specifically."

"i could go get some myself!"

"says a fragile haunted corpse with seventeen doorframe impacts today. sit down, Or Else."

"i hate you."

tearing the grapefruit apart with his new, itching indeed, teeth, vessel one had to admit that the fruit had that exact amount of bitterness which made it quite delicious.

(ID in the alt text)

#k's wave #k's art #sleep token #the way we draw them... 'our OCs' a user said once #whatever #if vessel one caught exactly that virus back in december well it really feels like shit #the witch caught it in december when everyone seemed to #BLEEEEEGH #also if you eat meat and never ate either reindeer or mutton well we're sorry #back to regenerating and three more grapefruits to devour #who knitted these socks though #also Sleep was counting. one hundred percent sure.)))))#k's word sequences

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hellsite-proteins · 5 months ago

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the jurgen leitner rant from TMA, mayhaps?

sure thing! this is a ridiculously long one (it would be about 162 KDa) but i was able to get it to load. i also find it very funny that the word 'book' had to become just 'k' and that 'jurgen' was reduced to 'rgen'

letter sequence in this copypasta matching protein-coding amino acids:

RGENLEITNERSTPIDIDITMTHERFCKINGRGENLEITENERGDDAMNFLKCLLECTINGDSTEATINGRATLDASTARDSHITHEADIDITAVATARFTHEWHREIGGESTCLWNINTHECIRCSLAGHEDTFTWNCWYMTHERFCKINGRGEINLEITNERSTPPINNINGMEWHENITALKATRGEINLEITENERIHATEHIMSMCHWHYDESHEHAVESMANYFCKEDPKSWHYDIDHEDECIDETFCKARNDANDFINDTSTSETTHEMLSEISHEDEADISHEAASTARDMANHASSCHAVISCERALAFFECTNMENTEVENINTHERMNEVERSEENTHISMANSFACEANDIKNWHEHASTHEWRLDSSHITTIESTEARDGETAWAYFRMMEifiwantedtgetintheavenandgdsaidrgeinleitnerswaitinginsideiwldpissngdsfeetfrthesleprpsefgettingsentackdwnifihavetdealwithrgeinleitnerspeakingnewrdinpersnnviceinpdcastntnlywilliclsethetaiwilldeletemykmarktfspiteandhavetrewatchtheentireseriesagainfrtheeperiencefeingletskipallthetimeswhenheismentinedraliveidntevenknwwhyihatehimsmchhecllectskstiamstmadecaseiamangyheetterhavesmefckedpackstryteplainthisifhesstsmerichshitheadwhsafanfcreepypastaandwantedtheirlversinillghamETTERhavehadakmakehimkillamancifhedidntImgingtmakehimpaypalcmIFckingHatergeinLeitnerepisdesntevenathimvagelymentinedwhatissppsedtmayeehisliraryandIlstitwherethefckisrgeinleitnerifhesstillaliveimgingtsdeeplywishhewasntcrstyldmanillpnchleitnerandhissadfrailldmantwigneswillsimplyflakeapartndermyepichgemeatfistandhewilldisintegratentilallthatsleftisnefinalkhekeptnhimatalltimessimplytitledNwYFckedpinancientyiddishimntreathingimhyperventilatingatthispintihpetheresadategivenfrwhenrgendiedrwilldiesicanmakeitaremindernmyphneeverydaynceayeariwillseeitanddanythingtpayrespectstthemanwhhadsmanyfckedpiftreks

protein guy analysis:

i can't decide whether this protein represents the Corruption (obviously destroyed, an affront to life and health, and likely able to corrupt everything near it) or the Spiral (looking at and thinking about this makes me feel slightly insane). the ratio of total protein length to amino acids folded into a recognizable secondary structure is distressingly low and there are some holes in the middle that will surely bind something weird. i guess the real horror is the proteins we made along the way!

predicted protein structure:

#science #biochemistry #biology #chemistry #stem #proteins #protein structure #science side of tumblr #tma #the magnus archives #jurgen leitner #leitner rant #protein memes

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deedah · 2 months ago

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“Redemption..?”

[J]=True

[Idk if I’ll make more ‘chapters’, I think I’ll do it if y’all like this one, k? Thx!]=True]

⚠️⚠️!!WARNING!!⚠️⚠️

This fanfic includes

-depression

-spoilers for Murder Drones finale

-talk about death

Word count- 1349

J threw the drill down on the snow as she used her left claws to end down a piece of metal as she finally got it screwed in. She then spread her metal wings as she did a flip in the air and landed in front of the newly built landing pod that Cyn had destroyed during her final moments.

J almost felt proud of herself as she kept inspecting the space pod, but it was short lived when she remembered everything that had happened in the last few months. Cyn being destroyed, the planet somehow getting itself back together.. and.. her exile.

J slowly walked into the pod as she used her hand to activate the door. She even decorated it a little. There was now a mattress hanging from the ceiling and a body mirror on one side of the wall. And there were also coat and hat hangers up on another side of the wall. But there was only one ‘hat’ on the hangers.

‘Tessa’s’ spacesuit helmet and some bows from her hair that she used to wear.

J slowly picked up ‘Tessa’s’ helmet as she slowly walked backwards to sit down in the chair in front of the control panel.

Even though Cyn had used the helmet to trick V and the others, it still felt special to J. J had freaked out when Cyn had revealed that she was the one to kill Tessa at the gala by being controlled by Cyn.. and she even fought Cyn when she realized that Cyn was wearing Tessa’s skin like a fricken cosplay.

J looked at her reflection in the helmet, then in the mirror.

She then stood up slowly as she put the helmet back on the hanger. Then she went to stand in front of the mirror as she looked at her hair. During the fight with V and the other two drones, Uzi shot her stupid railgun towards J. Thankfully she missed, but she did cut half of her left pigtail off.

J then looked at her hand as she involuntarily switched her hand for a sword. She looked at her yellow, tired, and dreary eyes before she quickly grabbed her right pigtail and chopped half of it off.

She shut her eyes tight until she felt all her hair get cut off. She then looked at her hand to see the remains of her hair as she threw it in a trash can.

The lonely Disassembly drone then took out her pigtails and flipped her hair upside down before shooting her head back up to see her hair down.

The last time her hair was down was when Tessa first found her and they were trying to find a hairstyle for her.

J then took one of Tessa’s black bows and she pulled her hair into a half-up-half-down gig as she put the bow where the two parts of her hair met in the back.

[Flashback sequence]=True]

[Tessa]=True]

Tessa started to comb out the saved workers new hair that she gave them as the worker looked in the mirror.

“You haven’t told me your name yet buddy..” Tessa said sweetly as the worker stopped making eye contact with her through the mirror.

“I..” they started, “I’m sorry, master.. I don’t remember..” they said as they hugged themselves.

Poor thing.. Tessa thought as she continued to brush the silver hair she gave the worker.

“Well..” Tessa started with a soft smile, “Father said I can’t name you drones human names.. but when I found you, I thought you looked like the name Jade!” She explained as she grabbed one of her favorite black blows and pulled the workers hair into a half-up-half-down. “So why not just.. J?” She said as she crouched beside the worker. “You like it..? It’s one of my favorite hairstyles to do” She asked as she meant the name and the hair style.

“I-“ they started as they touched their hair. “I like the name J, but can we..maybe.. do pigtails..?” J asked as she lowered her shoulders like she was afraid of saying her opinion.

“Of course! I don’t mind at all!” Tessa said as she took the bow out and brushed out her hair again and used a small comb to part it in the middle.

Tessa started to hum softly as J slowly listened to her.

“What are you singing master..?” J asked once Tessa had finished putting J’s pigtails in.

“Oh my! J please don’t call me ‘master’, I’m not that type of person!” She exclaimed as J slowly nodded. “And I was humming one of my favorite songs named “Eternal Dream”. I hear it on the radio a lot of the time” Tessa said as she thought. Though I’m shocked we still have radio with all this ai going around.

“Can you sing it for me, boss..?” J slowly asked as Tessa rolled her eyes playfully.

“Of course, J” Tessa said as she started to sing, “I and tired of this dream~~”

[End of flashback]=True]

[J]=True]

“I can’t end this dream~~” J sang quietly as she finished up her new hair style. She liked it on her. It made her look like she changed in some way.

J looked back at the helmet to see a sticky note above it that she wrote for herself after she got the interior of the pod shapened up. It read-

‘Poor J, alone is a cold, dark, world. And keep holding the helmet J, it’s the trophy of the “winning” team’

J wrote that for herself to remind of of what deal she had made with Cyn.

I just wanted to be protected from death.. Part of her mind begged.

“And look where it’s got you…” she looked back in the mirror as she countered her own mind, “idiot.” Her fists clenched as she looked at her eyes before she went and sat down in the chair again.

She turned the radio on as she scourged through the channels until she finally found one that wasn’t just static.

There was a song playing.

J recognized it..

Eternal dream..

J listened to the song until it got to the chorus when it got interrupted by static.

J sat up and started to hit it with her fist as she mumbled “Oh come on, stupid thing”

She did get it to go back to not being static anymore, but this time.. it was different.

Instead of the soft soothing song, J heard screams of terror and cries for help by strangers through the radio.

“Hello..?!” A voice came through the radio, “Please! If anyone is there! Please speak up!”

J could help but to press the button for the microphone as fast as she could and start to talk.

“H-hello?!” J said through the radio as she awaited for an answer.

“Ohoho thank Robo-God!! Someone!!” The stranger yelled happily through the radio, “JC!! Someone came through! We will be ok!!” They told one of their friends as she seemed like they came back face to face with the radio.

“Hello! If you can hear us please say ‘Roger’!” They commanded, and J did as they said.

“R-roger!”

“Please! Do you have a spaceship or a landing pod of some kind!?” They asked, “Me and my friends are stranded in space! I don’t know if you know who this is but a robot named Cyn destroyed our home planet named Broze-7!” They explained as J’s eyes hollowed.

“We are near what used to be earth! Please! Come find us before we die out here!” They begged.

T-this is it.. J thought as she simmered on the words of the stranger, “This is my redemption!” J accidentally said out loud. When she noticed she had her mic on, she immediately started to apologize. “Oh, I’m sorry.. And yes! I have a pod! I am coming as quickly as I can! Stay put!” J said as she started to fire up the space pod. The last thing she heard from the radio before she blasted off was,

“Redemption..?”

#murder drones #absolute solver #disassembly drones #murder drones cyn #murder drones ep 8 #murder drones fanfiction #Md j #j md #serial designation j #j murder drones #murder drones j #murder drones oc #md j fanfic

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giuliettagaltieri · 10 months ago

Text

Masterlist

K. Bakugō • E. Jaeger • M. O’Hara • S. Gojō • N. Zen’in • C. Snow

R. Cameron

Rafe Cameron

♡ Lovesick Little Thing

Synopsis: You follow Rafe around like a lovesick puppy until you start messing up over and over leading to a sequence of stupidly unfortunate events that you have nobody else to blame but yourself.

Chapter Count: 4

♡ Capitol Darling

Chapter Synopsis: Aspiring President Coriolanus Snow and Business Tycoon Rafe Cameron fights for your hand.

Word Count: 584

♡ Not Your Girl

Synopsis: You opened your eyes (Part ii)

Word Count: 2209

♡ Not Her Man

Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow (Part ii)

Word Count: 3193

♡ His Girl

Synopsis: Featherless birds fall with a splat (Part iii)

Word Count: 4532

Coriolanus Snow

♡ Hunt for Glory

Synopsis: After living under the shadow of legacy of your fathers, you and Coriolanus Snow decide it is time to climb to the top, to reclaim what was yours. You are a convenient ally, a dangerous and sly woman, and to his luck, it seems your heart was tender for him, until it no longer was

Chapter Count: 6

♡ Quest for Happiness

Synopsis: You got what you wanted. Power over Panem is on your hands. But after fighting in a battle of schemes and ruse, Coriolanus and you face a much more complex adversity. Together, you are a force to reckon with but when the odds seem to not be so much in your favor, will you manage to remain together?

Chapter Count: 7

♡ Smile for Me

Synopsis: With your family involved with the politics of Panem, it was expected of Coriolanus to make you the First Lady. Only, he cannot return your affections as he long gave up on such pursuits and only wanted a loveless marriage, until he had to listen to you make a stand for your beloved fabric.

Word Count: 1653

♡ Capitol Darling

Chapter Synopsis: Aspiring President Coriolanus Snow and Business Tycoon Rafe Cameron fights for your hand.

Word Count: 584

♡ Black, White, and Blood Red

Chapter Synopsis: Neither of you are safe in the arms of the other.

Word Count: 793

Gojō Satoru

♡ A River of Honey

Synopsis: Navigating through life with your husband and son who both seemed to have developed an appetite for something only you can provide.

Word Count: 1142

♡ Where the Blue Roses Grow

Series Synopsis: Snippets from the life of Gojō Satoru and yours. Where the two of you journey on a path that was predetermined for you, with hearts bruised and unforeseen emotions blossoming.

Chapter Count: 9

Miguel O’Hara

♡ Project: Galatea

Synopsis: Allowing you sentience made things more complicated between you and Miguel. But Peter Parker from Earth-199999 decides to take on an unfinished impossible project of his late mentor, and possibly bring you and Miguel back together.

Word Count: 6218

♡ Project: Pandora

Synopsis: You are experiencing things for the first time and you can’t wait to explore what the multiverse has to offer, but for now, you’ll start with a messy college dorm room.

Word Count: 2174

♡ Project: Eros

Synopsis: It does not feel the same without your wings and halo and you turn to science to help you gain them back. But despite your angelic appearance, you find yourself allured by the weakness and carnality of the flesh.

Word Count: 5435

Eren Jaeger

♡ Sparkly Pink Skirt

Synopsis: When you are head over heels for Eren since high school, he finds it difficult to take in when you start to avoid him.

Word Count: 2586

♡ Be Careful Not to Spill

Synopsis: Eren does not agree with the euthanasia plan and he will show them, with a little help from you.

Word Count: 2149

♡ Home is Where You Are

Synopsis: As Eren’s past comes to pay him a visit, you come to realize that love can come in all shapes.

Word Count: 1526

♡ Just Kiss Her Already

Synopsis: Craving for academic validation, you find an unexpected challenger who might have hurt your feelings, just a bit.

Word Count: 1724

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Synopsis: Having a love-hate relationship is fun until Eren messes it up, driving you away.

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♡ Cherry Flavored Kisses

Synopsis: The life as Eren Jaeger’s girl fascinated you, but it was nothing compared to the fascination you feel for the man, himself. He could be nice if he wanted. But nothing is as bittersweet as a love unrequited.

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♡ Doctor’s Order

Synopsis: You could not make your crush on Dr. Eren Jaeger any more obvious. And even though you can tolerate his usual cold demeanor, you also know when to draw the line. 1 of 3.

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Synopsis: You are having fun, trying new things and meeting other people while Eren disproves the saying, “Out of sight, out of mind.” 2 of 3.

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Synopsis: You’re back from your trip and a certain surgeon finds it difficult to not be in the receiving end of your undivided attention. 3 of 3.

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♡ Road Rage & Malibu Barbie

Synopsis: You may look like a barbie doll who got lost on her way back to her dreamhouse but Eren never fails to break your front quite often than you'd like

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Bakugou Katsuki

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Synopsis: Yesterday's rejection made an awkward morning more awkward. Mix in a ghost and a cookie jar, this morning is bound to be interesting. Who knew that the Bakugou Katsuki knows how to tease girls?

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Synopsis: Being a hero means so much more than just the career that Bakugou chose and you wanted to prove that to him and a series of unfortunate events might just let that happen, because dammit! You’re a hero too!

Word Count: 3,553

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Synopsis: Bakugou tries his best to be a good boyfriend when you get hit with a jealousy quirk. And when cuddles don't work, leave it to Bakugou to come up with other ways to help.

Words: 712

♡ You call Bakugou “pretty”

♡ Manga omake

Naoya Zen’in

Coming Soon

#giuliagaltieri masterlist #masterlist #miguel o'hara x reader #gojo satoru x reader #eren jaeger x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #naoya zen'in x reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #capitol library

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ficsbyuzi · 4 months ago

Text

Wait

Part 3

Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers (Modern Westeros)

Word count - 2.8 k

Masterlist

Warning(s) - +18, mention of nightmares and pregnancy.

Note - internal monologues and dream sequence are in italics.

[I wrote this is in a jiffy on my phone. Please ignore the errors in grammar or punctuation. I just wanted to write something in the little free time I got this weekend].

Summary :

Seems I know you from a distant time,

You sway my heart like no other,

Unraveling feelings I can't define.

I do not fully grasp your ways,

Or understand the ties that bind,

All I know is in your gaze,

A part of me longs to find.

“You found me.”

Aemond simply stared at her, blankly. The words still floated in his mind, unsettled and uncomprehended.

Alys stepped closer, holding his gaze and rendering him unable to look away. Close enough that when a rustle of wind teased their hair, a hint of her lavender-tinged scent reached his nose.

"You found me?" She repeated her words, this time phrasing it as a question. Her smile stretched her lips a bit more, as she tilted her head slightly.

He took in a deep breath in that lavender scented air around him, a bit of spiced pumpkin peeking through now. The voice, he had been dismissing as an unwanted ringing in him, nudged him once more at her question.

Meeting you here feels as if I was looking for you.

Her smile now blossomed into a full grin, as if in a response to his involuntary thought.

As if she could hear the unspoken words from within him.

"I...uh.." he fumbled, looking around, slightly relieved that he hadn't let those thoughts out aloud, "I was not expecting to find you..here.”

"Well," her low laugh tinkled like a soft clink of glasses, "in truth, this beautiful girl here has found me."

Alys gently stroked Vhagar's muzzle, earning gentle whines of acceptance from her. Aemond’s features yielded into softness as he watched her nuzzling his friend.

“A morning walk in the woods.”

“Good,” she cooed, cupping Vhagar’s flew.

He watched her turn and walk to her canvas and art supplies, wondering what to say to her next. Though he had met her a couple of times now at the resort, she still was a stranger to him.

“I didn't know you paint,” he said, awkwardly torn between prolonging the unexpected meeting and turning on his heel to leave.

Another misty, soft chuckle danced on her lips as she picked up her basket. With a languid glance over her shoulder she mused, offering him a coy smile, “You know nothing about me.”

And yet you don't seem to leave my mind.

He jerked his eye away from her and scanned the lush surroundings and the cabin, shunning that voice once again. Tendrils of smoke emanated from the stone chimney on the log cabin. A faint, warm glow flickered in the window.

“Do you reside here? What about your staff residence?”

“I often come here to find my muses,” she replied, pausing to admire the weirwood heart tree before gesturing towards the castle with her tattooed hand, “and there.”

Aemond traced it to the top of the Tower of Kingspyre, peeking through the dense foliage.

“The top of the tower?”

His query was met with only a smile from her. A smile that he wished to both ignore and keep looking at. She resumed gathering her belongings.

“I am not sure if you are allowed to do that.”

“Allowed?” Her chortle echoed through the damp air, mingling with the rustling of the weirwood leaves as she sealed a bottle of paint. “You must try it too, sometimes, it's as relaxing as a walk in the woods.” Her eyes narrowed in a veiled amusement.

“I don't think you can have a cabin here in the woods,” he brushed off her suggestions in a voice now edged with brusqueness.

Alys continued capping the paint bottles with an air of nonchalance and disregard for how seriously Aemond was speaking to her.

"The highest point in the Riverlands, where there's nothing between you and the ether, and here, where you are close to the Earth," she mused in an airy voice, arranging the paint bottles neatly in a wooden tray. "Nothing fuels inspiration more than nature."

“Ms Rivers, this land is a Targaryen estate, are you occupying it without a legal permit?”

A nonchalant silence answered his query, one that only fueled his impatient curtness. First that woman occupied his thoughts, now she was occupying his land without permission.

“Ms. Rivers, I want to know..”

“Come,” she turned and began walking towards her cottage, her basket in one hand, the tray in the other.

The sheer audacity of this woman.

He demanded an answer and instead she was ordering him.

“I am not squatting over your lands illegally,” she announced, without facing him. She paused for a moment, looked over her shoulder to meet his gaze, “Aemond”

Aemond

As if the mere sound of his name in her voice, becoming an invisible hand, clasped his own and pulled him forward. His feet moved of their own accord, trailing after her towards the cabin.

He settled Vhagar on the porch, observing as Alys struggled to unlatch the doors with her hands full. Swiftly, he relieved her of the trays, his hand grazing her fingers in the exchange. The gesture made her turn toward him. A smile lightened up her face, briefly quickening his heartbeat.

Bending low to enter through the tiny door after petite Alys, he stepped into a warmly lit room suffused with a sweet, herbal aroma.

The cabin's interior belied its rustic exterior: a wooden shelf adorned with rows of potted plants greeted him, beneath which sat a meticulously organized desk. Her laptop, few papers, and small picture frames were neatly arranged atop it.

A couch against one of the walls, almost hidden beneath numerous paintings, was adding to the room's cozy charm.

"Please, have a seat," Alys invited, pouring water in a glass kettle on a makeshift wooden counter that served as a kitchenette.

"Ms. Rivers... I must ask you again..."

"Sit."

How dare she order me again? I am...

"Aemond, I will show you the documents," she said, her tone firm yet inviting, quelling his rising anger, “Please. Sit.”

Seeing his hesitation to comply, Alys grinned and shook her head. She began grinding herbs from her basket, mixing them with dried ones from the glass jars on the table.

"So stubborn,” she murmured in a low and playful voice, yet clear enough for him to hear.

He felt the invisible touch of her voice, which had held his hand moments ago, now caressing his face. A sense of peaceful familiarity washed over him, prompting a smile. The tension of finding himself in a remote cottage began to dissipate.

Instead of sitting, he chose to observe the paintings on the wall, unaware of Alys, who now stood still, studying him with a soft, longing gaze. A contented relief flickered across her features as her eyes traveled over his tall form, mapping the contours of his face. Her lips parted momentarily as if to speak, but her words were interrupted by the kettle shutting off automatically and Aemond's question.

"Have you painted all of these?"

"Not all of them," a thickness in her voice made her clear her throat before continuing, "not the ones near the ceiling." She sprinkled some of the churned herbs from the pestle into the boiling water.

"And this?" Aemond pointed to a miniature oil painting of a mother holding her newborn child to her chest. The painting seemed to be made with fingers, with a minimal use of brushes.

(Original artwork here)

The thickness filled her throat again as she realized which painting he meant.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she answered, "That one, yes.” A melancholy smile surfaced on her lips, "I painted it."

She placed two cups on the counter and stepped towards him.

“This is the only memory I have of my son,” she revealed, gently detaching the frame from the wall. “I painted what I could remember of him. The Gods snatched him from my arms too early.”

Aemond, taken aback by this sudden revelation, was at a loss for words as she stepped back towards the counter, holding the painting tenderly in her hands. A thick, poignant silence enveloped the small cabin, breaking only when she placed the painting on the table and poured the honey-colored liquid from the kettle into the cups.

She offered one to Aemond, who remained motionless, his eyes fixed on her.

“Drink, it's good for the pain.”

“Pain?”

“You’ve touched your scar a dozen times in the last five minutes.” Her gaze, sharp and knowing, pierced through him.

He took the cup, still hesitant. His reluctance made Alys chuckle softly.

“Do you think that massive girl of yours sitting outside wouldn’t rip me apart if I poisoned you?” She took a sip from her own cup, her eyes never leaving his.

“Drink.”

Another command, and this time, he obeyed. She perceived what troubled him, recognised his pain, and sensed his vulnerability, without him having to say a word.

A rare experience for him.

Alys walked to her desk and opened a drawer, as Aemond sipped his tea. She was right; the herbal infusion soothed his pain and calmed his restless mind within a few seconds. He fleetingly entertained the idea of replacing the dreadful Riverlands coffee with this magical brew.

“Here,” she said, handing him a folder. Inside, he found the legal permit for her cabin and her personal details. He learned that she was thirty-seven years old and had moved from Essos three years ago. Impressed as he discovered that she had a Ph.D. in Botany with a specialization in medicinal plants of Westeros, he couldn't help but wonder what made her choose art curation as a career. Closing the document, he felt a newfound admiration for her.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said, as she remained engrossed in the painting, her back facing him.

“They say pain becomes art, but they don't tell you it never stops hurting,” she replied in a voice tinged with a sorrowful longing. A chuckle filled with bittersweet irony, followed.

A few minutes ago, he hardly knew her. He surely did not expect to uncover such a grieving part of her life. And now, he was sure he wanted to know her more.

“If you need anything, any help for yourself or your husband, I would gladly…”

“My husband?” She interjected, turning sharply to face him. “I don’t have a husband,” she asserted coldly, avoiding meeting his eye.

“Sorry, I… uh… I didn’t know that he…”

“Oh no, he is alive,” she moved closer. So close that he took a step back, fearing their bodies might touch if she came any nearer. “We..we are just not together..anymore.”

His breath quickened momentarily upon finding her so close as their eyes met. He saw a question swirling in her moist, verdant gaze - a silent plea that seemed to speak directly to his heart. He wanted to understand that question. He longed to provide her the answer she sought. An urge to give her what she needed washed over his senses, instead he only said,

“Ms. Rivers, I should get going.”

Alys stepped away, as if waking from a trance. She only nodded in response, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer.

“I will meet you at the museum tomorrow, Mr. Targaryen,” she informed him as he stepped out of her cabin’s door.

Feeling a twinge of disappointment at not hearing his first name, he responded with a noncommittal hum.

As he began the walk back to his mansion, he paused near the ancient weirwood tree. The grotesque face carved into its bark seemed to stare back at him, its eyes hollow and haunting. He made a mental note to learn more about those trees and their ominous history.

Moving closer, he noticed the marks on its bone-white trunk, the dried red sap giving them the eerie appearance of slashes on human flesh.

And just then, for a reason he couldn't quite grasp, he turned to look back at the cabin, only to find Alys already standing at her door, watching him. Vhagar barked, signaling her restlessness and desire to return home, contrasting with Aemond’s own longing to stay a bit longer.

It was not the Harrenhal resort he owned.

It was the dilapidated Harrenhal castle from his books, the towers mirroring the ruins in the old paintings he had seen.

He was soaring above it. He had always loved the skies.

He must be in his private chopper, inspecting the resort from above.

But this place was different—blackened and covered in soot. It did not look like his resort.

He realized he was hovering in the air, in gentle and rhythmic movements.

Up and down.

The castle was deserted.

“Where is my staff,” he thought and spotted a figure on the top of a tower, tiny as an ant from that height.

Curious, he wished to get closer to see who the figure was. And closer, he glided towards the tower.

The wind whipped through his hair; he wasn’t wearing any headgear. What kind of chopper was this?

He could see the figure clearly now. Alys Rivers stood on the tower, wearing the same clothes he had seen her in that morning.

Up and down.

Confused as to why she wasn’t looking up, he studied her form closely. Her loose sweater clung to her, revealing the maternal swell of her abdomen.

“Is she with a child?” And as if sensing him wonder, she looked above and smiled at him.

Just when he brought himself to smile back, a burst of fire engulfed her. He couldn’t shout her name. He couldn’t save her as the fire came from him.

He burned her. He didn’t want to.

The fire vanished as quickly as it had come. The stone beneath her feet and around her melted, yet Alys still stood there smiling, now with a child in her arms.

The sound of the alarm clanged through the air. Aemond lay in his bedroom, panting and staring at the ceiling. It had been weeks since he last had a dreamless, sound sleep. He decided to meet a doctor as soon as possible.

A sea of nervousness, curiosity, and attraction roiled beneath his calm and stoic exterior, when he spotted her waiting for him in the museum.

Instinctively, he noticed her curvaceous form, clad in a deep green pantsuit. Realizing that she was following his gaze, he quickly averted it. A few museum caretakers passed by, greeting him, and to their surprise, he responded.

“Shall we begin?” She asked in a thorough professional tone. No sign of their encounter in the forest reflected off her.

Aemond had not been one to make friends easily, never quite fitting in. Aside from Criston, conversation rarely came naturally to him. Yet, speaking with this stranger - a woman he had met only days ago - felt like facing his own reflection in a mirror.

Admiration for her blossomed within him, sparked not only by her knowledge and expertise, but also by the way her eyes brightened with every new revelation and anecdote she shared.

She led him through a corridor lined with paintings commissioned by King Brandon Stark, known as Bran I the Broken, from the year 305 AC. She gestured toward a series depicting pivotal historical events.

"These paintings, ordered by King Brandon Stark, are said to be the most accurate accounts of our history,"

Aemond, intrigued yet skeptical, asked, "And why do you claim so?"

"Because King Bran Stark was a greenseer," she replied matter-of-factly. "He could see the past, present, and future all at once."

Aemond chuckled lightly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Greenseer? That's just myth and legend. There's no such thing."

“You believe in dragons, and not greenseers?”

“ We have skulls to prove the existence of dragons.”

"And do you never feel curious about your future?" Alys countered, her eyes twinkling as her lips curled up in a playful smile.

"We make our own future," Aemond responded, his gaze lingering on a particularly vivid painting of a ship with three dragons flying above it. "Our choices in the present determine where we end up."

“What about the past?”

“Past doesn't exist, it has no meaning in the present or the future,” he stated, firmly.

"Time is a loop, not straight as a line,” The words resonated in the quiet of the gallery, her tone taking on an uncanny quality. A shiver slithered down Aemond's spine.

He turned to face her fully now, astonished by the sudden shift in her demeanor and her voice.

"One always reaches their future, traversing through that loop," she continued, her gaze steadily impaling him. "The question is when."

Before Aemond could say anything in response she turned abruptly and continued down the corridor with a purposeful gait. He followed closely, sensing her search for something deeper among the ancient paintings. She stopped near the oil painting of Aegon's conquest of Harrenhal.

"If you press close to the wall at the right place," she spoke softly, swiping her tattooed hand across the wall beside the painting, "You can hear the steps of people walking by, their voices."

She placed her ear on the wall, her glistening eyes widening in intense focus. Her face turned into a haunting abyss as she whispered, “You may even..you may hear yourself walking past there on the other side."

Gooseflesh erupted across Aemond's skin. He could swear he heard the clanking of swords mingled with screams in that moment. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet aisle and faded abruptly.

As if the past or the future were somehow reaching out to touch the present.

-------

[A/N - The last few dialogues of Alys Rivers are inspired by the poem ‘Answers to letters’ by Tomas Tranströmer].

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