#one of my managers has a full ‘closing time’ playlist that always works to get people tf out of the straunt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwaslayer · 1 month ago

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the space between us three (jyh) | two.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 4.3k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, the cliché coffee incident pls forgive me lol, parents pushing expectations, honestly not much but an intro to y/n and her family - bit of a filler chap!

"Can you visit mom and dad this weekend with me?" You nibble on the rest of your ramen while you wait for your brother to respond. You're currently sitting on a table outside near the trees, taking your lunch under the shade.

"Can't. I have plans with the boys."

"Wonwoo." You sigh.

"What? I promise, I'll head up there the weekend after. You can come with if you want. Sorry. I just planned this ahead of time and can't go back on my word now."

"Fine." You sip your water and toss your trash onto your tray before standing and throwing it into the appropriate bins.

"What, has mom and dad been on you again about us not visiting?"

"Kinda, yeah? You know how they always make passive aggressive comments because we don't come to see them often." You grab another cup of coffee, taking your time mixing it with half and half and some sugar. "It's always 'you two are always too busy for your parents!' or a 'it doesn't even take long to visit your parents!'" Your younger brother sighs as you quietly hand over some cash to the mobile coffee shop attendant.

"I know, but they also don't understand we've got our own things going on, too."

"I guess, yeah." You lick your lips and take a small sip, being careful enough to not burn your tongue from the scorching temp. "We really should do better, though."

It's not that your parents were bad. In fact, your parents were amazing. They had brought up both you and your younger brother comfortably and happily, sending you both to the best schools and supporting you until you two were able to fully walk on your own two feet, soar high with your own two wings.

It truly was just life.

You had gotten busy; always working at the hospital, growing from the bottom up, barely taking any of your vacation or sick days. If you did, it was because you had to or else you'd reach your max, or because you truly were rotting away in your death bed from a bad flu or food poisoning.

Otherwise, you were always at work. You were always with your girls. You were always going to lagree or bootcamp style studio classes. You were always doing something to occupy your time— mainly work. And the same thing goes for your brother, younger than you by 2 years.

He's just a boy.

But, he's your brother and you're incredibly close to him. He was always listening, was always good growing up. Would always protect you, especially from dumb boys and fake friends. He got good grades and went to college overseas before moving back home and settling down. Since then, he's always learned how to be on his feet— barely ever staying stationary. He, too, was always out with his boys. Working as a full-time software engineer, working out. Traveling when he gets the chance. Dating every now and then. But, you do love that he's living life and spending time with good people. He seems to have a good balance between his work and personal lives, which makes you happy.

It's just unfortunate that you two can't seem to manage slipping in more time with your parents. You both had agreed to do better about it, especially with your parents getting older.

"Are you still gonna see them this weekend, or are you gonna wait for me?"

"Yeah, I'll pop in for a second. I already told them I'd swing by."

"Hm." He hums. "Tell them we'll stop by for longer next weekend."

"Yeah, after I get the earful first."

"They won't." He clears his throat. "So, how's work been? Ate lunch well?"

"Yeah, I did. Work's been kinda crazy. They're opening this new department at the main hospital and it's expanding into the pediatrics side, too. We've been gearing up for it."

"Oh, really?" You nod as if your brother can see you.

"Yeah. They've been working with adult patients for their two studies, but they're going to start their pediatrics study soon. Pending on the IRB approval. But, once that's all good, they're hoping to secure their first patient, and we need to have everything ready to go."

"That's pretty cool."

"It is, but kinda hectic. Too many moving parts and people involved. It's a lot to keep up with."

"I'm sure you'll handle it well. You always do." You let out a small sigh before checking your watch and slowly walking back towards the peds hospital.

"Hope so. Work's been okay for you?" He chuckles.

"Same old! Nothing much has changed. Not like that, anyway."

"I see. So, what happened to that one girl you were seeing recently?"

"Uh, we're just better off as friends."

"Better keep that to yourself before mom starts setting you up on blind dates."

"Same goes for you. She'd probably go for you first. Been tryna marry you off." You roll your eyes.

"It's not my priority and she doesn't get that."

"She wants a grand baby and lowkey, I kinda want a nephew or niece to spoil, too."

"You're no help." He snorts. "Anyway, I gotta head back to my office and get some work done, I got a big meeting for that new department later today."

"Alright. Well, text me when you get home and try to take it easy."

"I will, you too, punk." Wonwoo chuckles. "Love you."

"Love you too!" And with that, the call ends. Your eyes are glued to your phone as you continue to walk back towards the hospital. The weather isn't too bad today, a slight breeze hitting your skin to balance out the warmth from the sun. You continue to switch between keeping your eyes in front, back down to your phone as you scroll through social media to catch up to things you've missed over the past few hours. When you finally get into view of the familiar building and the side lobby entrance, you slip in and head straight to the elevator without paying much attention— especially when it dings and slides the doors open for the individual behind to step out. You feel a soft thud; your body slightly coming into contact with theirs, causing some of your coffee to spill out of the opening on the lid.

"Oh— oh shit, I'm so sorry!" You look at the tall figure, wide-eyed as you survey his outfit to make sure your coffee didn't spill everywhere on his jacket.

"You're good." He says, eyes coming down to his jacket. There's a few drops of coffee dripping down near the zipper, but nothing that can't be fixed.

"I'm soooo sorry." You repeat as you dab a napkin at his jacket.

"No, seriously. It's fine. You're good." He laughs, brushing you off in a friendly manner. "Nothing laundry can't fix."

"Still another piece to add to your load." You look up at him and slightly pout. "Sorry."

"Maybe just be careful next time?" He gives you a small smile before he brushes past and out of the elevators. You realize he's got his large hand still propped up to prevent the elevator doors from closing on you, and you can't help but feel extra embarrassed. You do a tiny nod before he lets out a small chuckle and walks away, allowing you to be in your peace as you slip into the elevator and watch the doors close in front of you.

It just had to be him.

you: i almost spilled my coffee on a really cute guy ☹️

wonwoo: he'll def never come near you again. way to go sis 💗

you: you're a piece of shit

wonwoo: 🥰

You click your teeth and sigh as you step out of the elevator and onto your floor. You had been working as project manager supporting the pediatrics unit for about a year and a half now, starting at the hospital a few years ago as an admin associate and slowly working your way up.

"What? What's wrong, hun?" Your coworker and also one of your childhood bestfriends, Noeul, chimes in. She works as an HR manager, but her team sits nearby— giving you two the numerous opportunities to chit-chat and catch up in between meetings and tasks.

"I almost spilled my coffee on some really cute guy." She purses her lips together before giving you a toothless smile.

"I mean, you didn't, right?"

"No. Maybe a few drops. Now he'll have another piece of laundry to add to his load. All because of me."

"That's a good way to be memorable." You sigh. "I'm sure he wished he got your number."

"Wow, you're the complete opposite of my brother and I love that." She laughs.

"Of course, I'll always support you."

"How'd your meeting go?" She shakes her head.

"I don't know. So many sensitive issues. I think they only keep escalating and getting worse."

"Are you still dealing with that one manager and her staff member that weren't getting along?"

"Yup. That's exactly the thing that's getting worse."

"Sheesh. I hope they find middle ground soon, or at least find new avenues so they don't have to work with each other."

"Hope so too!" She looks at you. "When's your big meeting with the hospital people?"

"Hm." You hum and check your watch. "In the next hour." You settle at your desk and she follows along, sitting on the edge of the corner. "My inbox blew up over lunch so I gotta take care of a few things before I head over." You sip on your coffee.

"My busy bee." You give her a look. "Goodluck! Let me know how the meeting goes. I've gotta file a few reports and hop into a few other meetings myself. I'll see you later for a quick break?" You give her a small smile.

"Goodluck to you, too." She blows you a little kiss before she's prancing away to her desk, greeting people on the way over. You busy yourself before you need to start packing up and heading over to the main hospital, drowning in a few urgent emails that came in over your lunch break. Time sure flies when your brain is scattered everywhere, your to-do list seemingly never-ending and tossing you in a million different places at once.

You gather your things about 10 minutes before the meeting, which, doesn't give you much wiggle room in case you get lost. You don't go to the main hospital often, and you're not even sure if you have access to the room or how all of this would work. You are familiar with a few people also attending the meeting, but they're equally just as busy and are probably coming from other commitments.

You let out a small breath as you power walk over to the main hospital, happy you're at least getting your steps in for the day. You trickle into the huge lobby along with others, turning towards the left where the elevators are located. You press the button, waiting alongside a visitor as the elevator makes its way down from the 6th floor. You step in and patiently wait off to the side, checking your work calendar on your phone to make sure the meeting was indeed today.

Why does it feel like you're the only one heading over?

Were you the only one late at this point?

You step out of the elevator once you make it up to the 7th floor, pausing in your steps because— where the fuck do you go now? It was such a maze in this hospital, you didn't know whether to go left or right; the numbers on the doors skipping from one number to another. You turn to you right just because you go with your gut, hearing a trail of soft voices as you finally see a group of people heading towards a huge conference room further down [and definitely closer to your left had you just turned that way]. You pick up your pace, nodding and sending soft smiles to the familiar faces that catch you through the window of the room as they settle into their seats. Rushing over, someone is stationed at the door— probably waiting for you to make it inside.

"Thank you— oh, hi." You look up at the same, tall figure you damn near spilled your entire cup of coffee on.

"Hi." He gives you a toothless smile as he holds the door open for you. "Well, at least you aren't ramming into me with your cup of coffee this time." He jokes and you can't help but feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Yeah, mm'sorry about that still." You wince and slightly pout.

"I'm just joking. No worries. It happens." He smiles down at you, waiting for you to walk into the conference room. You give him another subtle, short bow before slipping into a chair on the opposite side of the table. You watch as he greets people coming into the room, a bit confused as to why he's still standing by the door until he finally sees the face he's been looking for.

He's got some kind of wit, some charm. Can't deny it's pretty attractive.

And to your surprise, he plops down in the seat next to you, followed by one of his team members [the said face he'd been looking for] you assume.

"Hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all." He gives you another toothless smile before eyeing your badge.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He puts out a hand for you to shake. "Yunho."

"Nice to meet you as well, Yunho." You shyly respond. "At least I don't have to call you the guy I almost spilled all my coffee on anymore."

"Yeah, no." He laughs. "This is Taehyun, my team lead. Taehyun, Y/N." You and Taehyun give each other small, curt bows just as the higher ups step in and settle at the front of the room.

"Hey everyone! Thanks for meeting. I know everyone is super busy so it's much appreciated." Yoori says as she flips her laptop open and pulls up the agenda slide on the powerpoint presentation. The meeting kicks off with small introductions around the table since a lot of people hadn't worked together like this, especially you and a select others mainly supporting pediatrics. When Yunho introduces himself, you find yourself enjoying the way he speaks. He's got a deep tone, but nothing off-putting. He speaks lightly and positively, chuckling in between statements.

Yeah, he's def got a witty charm to him.

When it's your turn to speak, you can feel Yunho's eyes from the side. He's paying attention and listening closely even if these are quick introductions to the team. He notices the way you shyly smile at those around you, still managing to speak clearly and concisely despite your nervousness that's physically manifesting in the way that your hands tug on the material of your jeans, fiddling with your fingers underneath the table in between the conversation.

Cute.

Then, after the light, airy introduction portion, the presentation gets a lot more technical, and you find that you're actually more involved in this than you expected. You're being asked to oversee the development of the clinical trial room in the pediatric wing, along with scheduling biweekly meetings to discuss updates. Making sure all required attendees are at the meetings and driving things forward. Coordinating across calendars, providing updates every step of the way.

And things seem to be picking up, moving real fast. Things were stalled and slow just a few months ago; now, it's all gas, no brakes.

When it comes to dealing with the ordering structure and IT developments, Yunho takes the lead and discusses the current updates and how they're still figuring out a few tweaks. Yoori is diligently taking notes on her own laptop, along with everyone else who is clarifying through questions of their own.

"Y/N, can you please work with Yunho and his team and the clinical informatics team to make sure the patient ordering enhancements will be taken care of and pushed through? Along with securing the data storage and network? I'll send you the list of required attendees that need to be at each meeting to help push these efforts forward. Let's prioritize this and try to get that done within the next week." You nod, glancing over to Yunho afterwards. He's got his chin resting on the palm of his hand and his eyes dart down to you. His brows perk up before he gives you a tiny, toothless smile. You feel your hands get sweaty from the look alone, so you divert your attention back to your laptop— typing up the rest of your notes on the side. Yunho can't help but glance over at your incredibly organized notes and the way your emails are categorized; all the folders within folders.

Never-ending folders.

Definitely Type A.

He does like that, though. Can't help but feel a little endeared by it.

As the hour long meeting progresses, you feel yourself getting slightly overwhelmed by your growing task list. You can't help but feel an itch to get to your desk to scribble in your planner and get your thoughts organized.

And as soon as the meeting ends, you cut out with quick goodbyes before rushing over to your office. Yunho was hoping to catch you afterwards to talk a little more, but he watches as you leave, the opportunity now a long gone thought.

"Where'd you go?" Sian, your other good friend, asks. She's in the finance department, and typically comes over to check in with you and Noeul, especially when she has to drop off some mail for the peds hospital. "You and Noeul were both gone."

"I had that meeting, remember?"

"Oh shit, yeah. How'd it go?"

"I don't know." You plop onto your desk and let out a huff, pulling your planner from your bag before pulling up your notes in the cloud on your desktop computer. "So many things to do and everything feels so urgent." You've already got a few people to meet, along with pushing the operational aspect of this huge project. You've got your hands tied.

"Wow, they're moving fast with this."

"Yeah, very." You shake your head as you write out your thoughts, suddenly pausing to look back up at her as she fiddles with the figurines on your desk. "Hey, do you know the IT managers well?"

"Most of them, yeah."

"Do you know Yunho?"

"Jeong Yunho?" You shrug since you didn't really catch his badge on him. "He's the only Yunho I know of. How could you not know him?"

"Girl, I'm mostly on the peds side, I rarely come to that end." You giggle.

"He's handsome as hell. Tall. Super nice and helpful. Him and his team are so good about coming to the rescue ASAP." Sian nudges you and wiggles her eyebrow. "He's a single dad. I believe his daughter is 10? 11? Probably 11."

"Mm, dad of a pre-teen girl."

"Hey. He's making it." Sian shrugs. "Heard he's a really good father despite losing his wife years ago. I'm sure it must have been incredibly hard." You nod.

"Yeah, I can only imagine."

"He's good friends with Park Seonghwa from marketing. I think they're besties or something." You nod.

"I only know Seonghwa from the one interview I did with him when we did the remodeling project at the peds oncology unit. After that, barely have spoken a word to him."

"He's a little hottie, too. But, I heard he's got a thing going on with Yoori."

"Yoori? Like.. Director Yoori?" Sian nods.

"They're so weird about it, though. Definitely not known publicly, but people have seen them out together a select few times. Or, seeing Seonghwa go to her house."

"Nosey." You laugh.

"Well, it's definitely a small world around here."

"Hm." You hum. "So interesting, especially after I just saw her. I would have never suspected."

"What about Yunho, though?"

"First, I almost spilled my coffee on him this morning." Sian nods.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"I'm not that clumsy."

"Mmkay." Sian laughs. "How much coffee?"

"A few drops." You make a face. "And then he ended up being in the meeting and sitting right next to me."

"See, big hospital but small world." You chuckle.

"Feels like college."

"Yeah."

"Speaking of Yunho." You furrow your brows when you see a little notification pop up in your Slack app.

yunho: hey!

you: hi there! you found me!

yunho: 😀 sorry, i tried to catch you after the meeting but you rushed out.

you: oops, yeah. i just had a few things to catch up on.

yunho: all good! do you wanna schedule some time to meet before scheduling the wider meeting with everyone else? i can walk you through everything so we're on the same page.

you: sure, yeah! that'd be helpful. i'm pretty free next week. i just prefer not to schedule anything over lunch if it can be helped. 😅

yunho: i'm the same, don't trip. lol. i'll send you an invite for early next week. what time do you get in usually?

you: mm, around 7:30-8am.

yunho: hm, wanna do 10am on monday then?

you: good with me. ☺️ thank you, yunho!

yunho: sure thing!

"Aw, he even went out of his way to message you." Sian watches you exchange messages from behind.

"Girl, please? We need to talk about getting the patient ordering system together and fixing all the infrastructure for the peds unit."

"Sounds like you'll be working with him closely? I'm actually kinda surprised his team is on this. Not saying they aren't great, but they're a bit smaller and support other departments." Sian ponders for a bit. "The other IT teams are pretty swamped though, now that I think about it. They probably have the best bandwidth right now."

"Who knows. But, yeah. I guess so. His team lead was also there."

"Maybe you'll get close to Yunho."

"Maybe I won't and just get my job done while minding my own business."

"Y/N. You're single and he's single, don't be so quick to cut him off just because he has a kid. You should put yourself out there again." She teases and you roll your eyes.

"Get out." She snorts. You hate that she's a little right about it; it had been awhile since you were in a serious relationship. You might've messed around with an old college classmate a few times, but it was so casual it ended up fizzling out all by itself and that was that. It's not like you had any bad relationships, either. They just weren't a fit, but you didn't hold any bad blood towards each other. Your mom was tired of it, though. She was hoping you'd finally stay in a serious, committed relationship— one where you'd end up walking down the aisle, settling down in a nice family home, one or two little ones running around [or more, she wouldn't be mad about it]. Maybe that's why you also dread visiting home, because she never fails to remind you that she's waiting, and that time doesn't wait for anyone. She gives Wonwoo a piece of it, too.

Just not as much as you.

It's always this game of comparison, trying to one-up her friends in some fashion. It's frustrating to deal with. She didn't understand that you were good with where you were at. And even if you did long for a partner and affection in that sense, it's not like you could wish for it to happen and change your life overnight. These things take time. These things need to develop naturally, wholeheartedly, genuinely;

It wasn't your time yet, you guess.

"Anyway, are we still having our little girls night at your place tomorrow?"

"Mhm. Just gotta visit my parents first then I'm all yours."

"Ah." She nods. "Is your brother coming along?"

"Nope. Next weekend, though."

"Goodluck, sweets. Tell us all about it when we come over." Sian looks at her watch. "I was gonna try to wait for Noeul, but I guess she got caught up in some things. I should head back." You nod. "See you tomorrow, my love."

"See you." She smiles before giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze and turning on her heel to take her walk back over to the main hospital.

As the afternoon rushes by, you're able to dock off a few more things on your list before feeling satisfied enough to call it a day. You decide you're a little too tired and worn out to be driving elsewhere for food, so you'll pop into the main hospital cafeteria.

wonwoo: did you spill your coffee on anyone else today?

you: no 🫥

wonwoo: [sends money]

wonwoo: go get a massage or something dude, relax

you: are you serious?!

wonwoo: yeah. 🙄 got a lil bonus from work, so if i'm eatin, you eatin too i guess.....

you: best brother award 😭

wonwoo: u don't mean it

you: i do!!! ily!!! 💕 i'll never call you bighead again!

wonwoo: yeah u def don't mean it

You giggle to yourself, feeling comforted by your brother even at a distance. The thing about your relationship with Wonwoo is that you two were always sharing in each other's ups and downs— good days, bad days. There was never any competition or need to feel like one had to do better than the other, thankfully; and this was a prime example of how close you and your brother were. You truly can't wait to hang out with him next week. You adore him to bits.

As you head back to the main hospital to grab food for dinner before leaving for the day [you definitely prefer the food there], you catch Yunho speaking to one of the nurses on her way out. She's blushing, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while she laughs. Yunho looks nervous, but he's keeping himself pretty composed by the way he's smiling and laughing along with her. You brush past them quickly, and you aren't sure if Yunho noticed you or not— not like it matters, anyway.

He was definitely asking her out. And by the looks of it, she said yes. She had been wanting to say yes for awhile.

Welp, there goes the really cute guy you spilled coffee on.

It wasn't your time yet, you guess.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf

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ellethespaceunicorn · 9 months ago

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Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.”

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale.

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him.

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil!

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time.

1. Clark is single.

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy.

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor.

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands.

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black.

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it.

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear.

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips.

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time.

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway.

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

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honeyhoshi · 11 months ago

Text

you do it naturally

summary: the hiding, the secrets, and staying back to watch him shine has never been an issue. until today.

it’s the night before the biggest show of his life, but it’s soonyoung's turn to show her that he’s her biggest fan.

this is a part of the playlist universe

genre: social media au/trad fic hybrid, solo idol au, celebrity x non-celebrity

wordcount: 4,606

pairing: solo idol!hoshi x afab!reader

warnings: discussions about self-esteem issues, body image/weight, feelings of jealousy, plenty of frustrated tears, afab reader, female anatomy, fingering, squirting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, crying during sex (good!!), dirty talk (lovingly), pussy drunk hoshi (canon), implied chubby/bigger reader

author's notes: unfortunately i am horribly in love with hoshi so this is my humble contribution to his smut tag

As someone whose life revolved around sugar, butter, and flour, this was a new world. The tension in the air is palpable and the flurry of activity is so different from the kind of rush you’re used to. You’re nearly tripping over your feet trying to catch up to the member of the staff who's been sent to assist you. This must be so out of their scope of work, it's almost embarrassing how clueless you are to all of this.

It’s been three years since you started dating Soonyoung, and while you’ve never missed one of his shows in Seoul, this is your first time attending one of his rehearsals. He’s notorious for being laser focused and demanding of his team, making sure everyone remembered their collective goal of an amazing show. You never wanted to get in the way of that or to be considered a distraction.

In fact, that’s always how you’ve operated as his girlfriend. You understand where you stand, what your role is, and when it’s time to work, you will stand back and let him shine.

But when you make it to the front of the stage, taking a seat close to Soonyoung’s managers after giving them a friendly smile, you can’t help the wave of pride that comes over you as you take everything in. The stage is massive, the largest Soonyoung’s ever had, and over thirty dancers are on stage with him as he adjusts the blocking and tweaks steps.

Then he catches your eye.

His eyes disappear as he smiles and you can’t help but do the same. You fight off the urge to wave, wanting him to get back to what he’s doing knowing full well they have limited time to go over everything before resting for the evening. You can’t take your eyes off him though. Preparations for concerts usually take him away from you for weeks at a time, and with the scale of this one, you hadn’t seen each other in the flesh for a month.

Just seeing him in front of you now already makes you feel sated.

“Can we do another run of the new song with the pair choreo. We just want to see which works better,” the director calls from the tech booth.

“Nari-ssi, please come up. Everyone else, take 5,” the choreographer on stage with them calls into her mic.

Soonyoung had mentioned he was debuting a new song at the concert. It was something he and Jihoon had worked on last minute that he couldn’t stop talking about, wanting to drop hints but also saying he wanted it to be a surprise for when you would see it at the show. He had dropped the topic dead a few weeks ago.

Nari bounds up the stage with a glorious spring in her step, bare faced but glowing. Her practice clothes fit her like a glove and her overall vibe gives off the energy that she herself was an idol.

That ugly feeling starts to simmer in your stomach as what you suppose is the song starts to play. The intro is slow and sultry and the sweat in your palms starts to grow uncomfortable. Only an idiot wouldn’t understand the sensuality of this song from the get go.

The love of your life is standing right there but you can’t take your eyes off of Nari as she finds her blocking before the verse starts. Nari smiles at Soonyoung and makes a comment you can’t hear from your seat. You feel sick.

Soonyoung and Nari are facing each other with one of his hands on her chin, lifting her gaze to him. His other hand is resting on her slender hip and in a three count from their choreographer, they move in unison.

“Three, four, five, ‘oh baby, cause I’ da, da da!”

The MR only covers the backing vocals but still you know that’s Soonyoung’s crooning and matched with the way his and Nari’s hands and bodies move, you’re transfixed. Horribly.

You avert your eyes, unable to focus and try to play it off as replying to an urgent message, but you’re startled when you hear a loud “SOONYOUNG FOCUS!”

Your head flies up to find Soonyoung staring you down from the stage, eyebrows furrowed and looking, dare you say, nervous.

“We need to see how this is actually going to look like tomorrow, so please let’s put more effort into this. Poor Nari’s giving it her all, Nyoung-ah.”

Soonyoung tries to communicate with you wordlessly but your unwillingness to keep eye contact makes it difficult for Soonyoung to get whatever it is across.

The music plays back again and they return to their starting positions and you know he’s turned it On.

The look on his face, the focus in his eyes. This is what he looks like when he’s locked in, and when his body starts to move, everything falls away.

But Nari.

They move seamlessly, sensually, and just Right. She matches every beat, wave, and touch he gives her. And gives back that same sultry energy with a flick of her wrist, dip of her hip, and when she leans her head back on his shoulder, allowing him to move her body to the music.

You could never move like that. You could never fit in his arms like that.

The song ends and the dancers around them hoot and jeer and Nari blushes as she and Soonyoung finally break their grazes, breathless.

They would never cheer for you like that.

This has never gotten to you this badly. Usually, the distance between the two of you allows you to compose yourself when things get muddled in your head, able to piece yourself together when the fear and insecurity claw up your throat. But your usual proximity is nonexistent and the gap has been closed.

Being with an internationally acclaimed artist meant busy schedules and only being able to squeeze in the littlest dates every now and then. You had time to prepare for those, give yourself the pep talk of It’s been three years. If he wanted you gone, he’d have said something by now.

In preparation for the show you two had made prior plans you would stay with him, an impromptu long weekend “getaway” you had put in at work almost 3 months ago. But now it feels like you’re trapped. You’ve been short with him since his rehearsals wrapped and you’d met up with him in his private dressing room. You could only stomach to say surface level good jobs and you’re always so amazing!

There’s no way he hasn’t picked up on it yet because the air in the car was nonexistent. It was stifling and you could feel the waves of anger simmering underneath Soonyoung’s skin, just waiting to burst forth the moment the two of you were alone.

He knew something was wrong. He always knew.

The ride up the elevator to his unit felt like the longest and shortest elevator ride of both of your lives and the second Soonyoung had let you into his place and locked the door behind him, you wanted to cry.

“Can we finally talk about this?” He starts.

“What?”

“Babe.”

“Soonyoung.”

“Are we really doing this?” He sighs, exasperated.

You feel bad. But the sadness is gnawing at your head and heart and neither are working correctly.

“We’re not ‘doing’ anything, Soonyoung.” You say as you toe off your shoes and put down your bag before facing him.

And what a glorious face it is. He’s always been the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He looks best like this, you think. Soft and free of makeup and tired and home.

“I’m sorry,” you start, face beginning to crumple and the sting of hot fresh tears threaten to spill.

“No, no, no, baby. Come on, come here,” Soonyoung’s scrambling to pull you into his arms, “Hey, hey, shhh. Look at me, talk to me.”

He pulls her face into his hands and tries to lift her gaze towards him. But she fights and tries to keep her head down.

“Baby, you have to talk to me, okay? You have to talk to me and tell me what I did wrong, hmm?” He respects your refusal to look at him and instead hugs your head to his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of your head.

Soonyoung wraps his other hand around your shoulders and maneuvers the two of you to lay on the couch, You’re still sobbing, large tears falling from your eyes and dampening the shirt he’s wearing.

When he moves to lay down on one of your favorite spots to cuddle in his home, you freeze in his arms, sobs stopping and shoulders going rigid. You push yourself off of him, hands going up to brush the tears off the face.

“No, no, I’m too heavy, I'll crush you.” It is almost business-like how you snap back into this cold tone.

Soonyoung stops, sits up straight, “What are you talking about?”

You groan, “Soonyoung, I don’t want to get into it. Please, you’ve had a long day, tomorrow is going to be—“

“No,” he cuts you off, “We don’t get to talk about tomorrow until we talk about today. Until we talk about what’s going on right now.”

“Soonyoung—I just. I don’t know how to talk about this. I’m just blowing things out of proportion. It’s nothing, I swea—“

“It isn’t nothing, though, is it?” He says, softer now. He reaches up for your hand, “You’re upset. You’ve been upset since I saw you after rehearsals. We have to talk about this, baby. We promised each other we’d talk things through.”

Your eyes sting again, a fresh batch of tears ready and threatening to make their appearance. That sharp feeling in your nose is there, any second now.

“Tell me how I can make it better, baby.”

The dam breaks and you fall boneless into Soonyoung’s embrace. You straddle his lap and wraps your arms around him, pressing the two of you chest to chest.

You bury you face in Soonyoung’s neck and let out a shuddering sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m being so, so immature and so unreasonable. You didn’t do anything,” you say, still slightly unintelligible from the tears.

“You’ve never done anything that’s made me sad or angry, Soonyoung. It’s me, it’s me and my stupid brain.”

“Hey, hey, no. Please please don’t say that, hmm? Let’s work this out together,” Soonyoung coos.

“I-i-i just felt so horrible, Soonyoung!” You finally cry, “She looked so beautiful and perfect and just so RIGHT in your arms and God, the way you two moved and how everyone watched the two of you.”

Soonyoung pulls away, grasping you face in his hands and finally locking eyes with you.

“I know I said I’m okay keeping this a secret and keeping everything simple and under wraps, and it’s fine! I promise, it really isn’t that.”

“Then what is it, baby?”

You’re quiet for a bit as Soonyoung traces the path of your tears with his thumbs, wiping them away.

“I’ll never be able to do what she can. Nari. I’ll never look like her or act like her or move like her. I can’t even dance with you without looking like a fool.”

Soonyoung feels his heart sink. His own eyes start to grow bleary and when he blinks a tear falls to his cheek. He drops his head to your chest and breathes you in.

“I’m sorry—“

“Oh no, Soonyoung it isn’t yo—“

“I’m sorry that things have gotten this far that you’ve grown to feel that way. I’m sorry because I know in some way or form all of this has become that and I didn’t catch it.”

When he lifts his head, tear tracks mark his pretty face and his nose is red.

“But you have to know,” he starts, eyes very serious, and not daring to look away from you, “You have to know that you are everything. You are everything to me. You’re even more than that.”

“And we are going to dance. Oh we are going to dance all the time. I am going to dance with you in the kitchen when we’re waiting for focaccia to bake, we are going to dance in the bedroom when we change the sheets, and we are going to dance when I marry you. And everyone will have their eyes on you and they will clap and cheer because just look at the woman I love.”

“Soonyoung—“

He stands with a start and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, elbows hooking over his shoulders. His hands are under your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. He’s carrying you into his room.

The lights automatically flicker on as he enters and kicks the door closed behind you, “In fact, baby, why don’t we start now hmm?”

“What, start what?”

He grins and any semblance of sadness has vanished from his face. He smiles and something in your heart is elated.

“Dancing, of course.”

Soonyoung is known in the industry as an ace — able to sing, rap, compose, choreograph, and above all things, dance. And dance with you he does.

The way he can make your body move is unexplainable because once he placed you at the center of his bed, he’d strummed at your body, mouthed at your pulse and had gotten you out of your top and jeans before you could even fully comprehend.

His mouth is hot on yours and he breathes in your air as soon as you exhale and you’re growing lightheaded as his hands continue to undress you. In an attempt to get some air in both your lungs, he pulls away to frantically tear his shirt over his head, not daring to take his eyes off you. He flings it over his shoulder unceremoniously, not a care in the world where it lands and makes quick work of his sweatpants.

“What, you thought you’d get lucky tonight?” You quip at him, “Even when you knew I was feeling tilted?

He’d gone commando.

“Good mood, bad mood, whatever the fuck mood, I want you,” he laughs as dives back in to kiss you.

His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t know what and where to touch, wanting to feel you everywhere before settling on the thickness of your thighs. He spreads your legs slightly so he could slot himself in between them, cock pressed perfectly to your center.

And then he grinds. The head of his cock nudges perfectly at your clothed clit and you let out a mewl.

“There you go, let me hear you,” he groans into your ear, “Y’sound so good for me, sweetheart.”

“Soonyoooouung,” you can’t control the drawn out moan of his name. After everything you’re pent up and everything feels too much already.

He lets his mouth trail wet, open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your neck as his hands busy themselves undoing the hook of your bra. He scrambles to get it off of you and immediately pulls one nipple in his mouth, nipping and soothing it with a slow lave of his tongue.

He grips your other breast in his palm and squeezes, biting his lip at how your flesh molds to his touch.

“Fuck your tits are fucking perfect.”

This man was groping and grinding against you, and you blush as he compliments your breasts.

He continues kissing down the valley between your breasts and you hold your breath as he starts pressing his lips onto your stomach. It dips and springs back as he moves and your eyes zero in on the deeper colored lines of your stretch marks. There are more on your thighs to match.

But he makes no comment.

He instead groans whenever he stops to suck a bruise and to run his tongue over the mark he’s made.

“You’re so,” he starts, almost breathless, “You’re everything.” He laughs at his own inarticulate thoughts before hooking his thumbs into the elastic of your underwear.

He pulls them off and moves back up to press a deep kiss to your mouth, “I want to make you come three times, love.”

“What?” You’re dazed.

His right hand moves down to trace your ass and hook under your knee so he can spread you open.

“First, I’m going to fuck you open on my fingers,” he breathes, “then when you’re nice and wet and open for me, I want you to sit on my face, alright?”

With all his talk distracting you, you’re suddenly startled when you feel his thumb on your lower lips, starting to spread you apart.

“Then when you’ve come all over my face, I’m going to fuck my come into you, just how you like it. Right, baby?”

He slips in two fingers into you with no warning and you keen, high and wanton and uncontrollable.

Soonyoung is rough and quick when he fingers you and no matter how slow and sensual the lovemaking is, this will always be fast, hard, and messy.

While one hand is busy pumping two fingers into you, the other pinches your clit and quickly rubs, wanting your first orgasm to come as quickly as possible.

Your lower lip is close to bleeding as you try to keep your voice down but Soonyoung only chuckles when he sees your attempts at restraint.

“Baby we’re soundproofed in here. Make all the noise you want.”

You want to slap at his chest playfully at least, get him to feel some semblance of shame, but just as you try to make some quick remark, his fingers brush that spot inside of you and he presses down hard.

You’re unable to hold in the scream that rips through your throat as his arm flexes and he roughly thrusts his fingers in and out of you.

You clench your eyes shut as you finally let him have your first release. It’s almost explosive and you spill messily all over his fingers and arm, his other hand making a bigger mess, spraying drops of your release letting them fly further.

Breathing comes hard but he’s already pulling out of you and moving your body around until you’re on your knees.

Soonyoung lays on his back and tugs at your hands to grip at his headboard, “Fuck I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Soonyoung, what if—“

“If you want to stop, we’ll stop. Just say the word,” he says, propping himself up with his elbow.

“You have to do the same,” you say shakily, still trying to get your bearings after the mind blowing first orgasm.

“Unlikely, but you know I’ll tell you everything, love.”

And just like that he lays back again, looking more eager than you could have ever imagined. You kneel over his chest and slowly inch upwards before lowering yourself over his mouth.

Soonyoung’s always loved eating you out. He loves when sex is wet and messy and loud. He loves the taste of you and making so much noise while he’s pressed up against your pussy it almost seems like he’s the one getting release.

Every flex and curl of his tongue has you whimpering and you can’t help the way you throw your head back as his nose nudges at your clit, still sensitive from your first orgasm.

He coaxes this second one slower but it hits you just as strongly as he continues to mouth at your core even when you’re crying and shaking from the sensitivity. You almost topple off the bed as you climb off Soonyoung to lay back next to him on the bed.

You turn your head to Soonyoung and the entirety of his lower face is wet with your release and your face burns. But Soonyoung is aglow with arousal and just so much love.

He coaxes your mouth to meet his own and it is a reprieve from how quickly he moved for you to reach your high twice in such a short period of time.

You can taste yourself on his mouth but it makes you groan as his tongue pushes its way to mingle with your own.

Despite the desperation at which you both moved, this is slow and quiet. Just you lips moving against each other and the sheets rustling fills the space.

Soonyoung pushes himself off the bed cautiously, desperate to keep his lips on you as he positions himself between your thighs.

Just like that a switch flips and the urgency to have him starts once more. He pressed his cock against your entrance and let the underside slide against your wet cunt. It offers you little relief, the friction hardly enough to get you there.

He pulls away and brings one hand to your face as the other holds him over your body.

Soonyoung’s hooded lids and glazed eyes are a sight to behold. His hair is damp and the shorter strands that frame his face are plastered onto his forehead. There’s a bead of sweat that’s clinging to the cut of his jaw and you ache to press your mouth to it.

His thumb traces the curve of your cheek, the plumpness of your lower lip, and slowly he’s pressing the finger between your teeth. You press your tongue against the pad of his thumb and wrap your lips around the finger, and suck.

God, I love this man. I will always only love this man.

“I love you,” he gasps as he finally presses in and sinks into you.

Any other day and it would be embarrassing how close you both are to the edge, but you both know that his evening was far from normal. Your heart is hammering in your chest so hard you feel like it’ll rip itself out of its confines. Everything feels too good and too much and you want it. You want this every single day if you could.

Soonyoung sits up and uses both hands to grip onto your hips and to brace himself. What he does next makes your head spin.

“I’m so close, baby. You gotta say it.” He stands on his knees, changing the angle slightly. Then he lifts your hips just right and the noise you let out as his cock sinks into you perfectly is completely pitiful.

“Say it.”

“Soonyoung!” you cry out. It’s a sob, really. Depraved, almost, in the desperation and the raw fucking feeling thats burning through your nerves.

“Just say it baby, you know the words. Say it and I’ll make good on the very last fucking promise I made tonight,” he says, the edge in his voice making itself known. He wanted to make this evening soft, slow, and for every movement to have meaning. But he has always been hungry.

Hungry for the stage, bigger venues, brighter lights, more challenging steps, and of course for you.

He breathes in through his nose sharply and tries to exhale slowly and paced, “Just say it baby, I know you can.”

“You’re mine.”

“That’s it. I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

The years of precise practice and this industry expertise has made the man you love into the most exquisite lover.

He thrusts quick and deep and the undulations of his hips have you seeing stars and tearing up once more. He’s everywhere, in your eyes, head, lungs, heart and you’ll be damned if you ever let him go.

The insecurities and the problems and the people will always be there, they will always cause uncertainties but this is one thing you will always be sure of. You will always be sure of him.

Soonyoung comes with a cry of your name and the most beautiful gasp against your mouth as he pumps you full of his cum, pushing you over the edge and he swallows the cry you let out.

He pulls away to press breathless kisses against your face and any other part of you he can get his lips on mumbling, “I’m yours, I’m yours. I’ll always only be yours.”

It starts slowly, warm, and comfortable. The rustling of the sheets and the hot wet press of his mouth slowly coaxing you into that soft space of barely awake, but able to slip back to sleep if you stayed quiet enough.

“I gotta go, baby,” is Soonyoung’s whisper, cheek resting atop your head.

You hum in response, not fully coherent to put together words after he’d pulled endless strings of moans and cries from your lips the night prior.

He presses a kiss to your hair, “Didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. I’ll see you tonight, gorgeous.”

You feel the way the bed dips and the blankets move as he goes to stand. He slips on his shoes and, unable to leave so easily, moves back towards the bed and kneels by where your head rests on a pillow.

“I love you, think about what I said last night, okay?”

You tried to keep yourself collected, keep the frantic energy sizzling in your veins at bay. Soonyoung had put on the show of his life, something that happens just a few times in a performer’s life, you’re sure. Pride had swelled so grandly in your heart. You had been so lovestruck watching him that it felt like he could see you whenever he had turned his head in your general direction.

Backstage is still abuzz from the end of the show. You’re sure people are still running around making sure the egress goes smoothly, that all the fans are able to exit the stadium safely. But everything comes second the moment you hear his voice.

“Has she been escorted from her se—“

You can’t help it. You’re so happy, so excited, and so in love with him. You’re running toward him. He’s changed out of his encore outfit and into a sweater—oversized the way he likes them— and sweatpants. He could slip into bed any second now it looks like.

“Soonyoung!” You call out, stealing his attention.

He turns to you and the most breathtaking smile spreads on his face and you throw yourself into his arms. He catches you and you wrap your legs around his slender waist.

“It was amazing, you’re so amazing. Congratulations, oh my god!” You’re blabbing, you can feel your mouth going a million miles an hour but you can’t stop.

You pull him into a crushing hug as he gently puts your feet back on the ground, keeping your arms around his neck.

“And that new song, Jesus you weren’t kidding, it’s so good and the choreo! The way you moved! You changed the choreo last minu—“ In a split second, his lips are on yours and you can’t help but smile against him.

You break away, breathless when you remember, “Soonyoung, everyone can see.”

He gives you a silly quizzical look, “Only thinking about that now and not when you jumped into my arms?”

You’re speechless. He’s right.

“I’d be happy if everyone knew,” Soonyoung says simply and pulls you in again for another kiss.

When you pull away, you suck in a large breath and say, “Okay.”

There’s a small smile that he can’t hide as he asks, “Okay…? To what, exactly?”

You blush and bury your head in his chest. You want to while, he’s so annoying.

“To everything. To everything you said last night,” you mumble into his chest, trying to muster enough confidence to keep going.

“Okay, I’ll move in with you. Okay, I’ll tell all my friends about you. Okay, let’s make us public.”

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you. if you’d like to drop a like or reblog this, it would mean the world to this new author!

#frizzy fiction #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #hoshi smau #hoshi imagines #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung smut #soonyoung imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios

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elioslover · 1 year ago

Text

Ray of Sunshine - Grumpy!Harry x Reader.

Premise: Harry has a tendency to be moody, but what happens when he meets his match? this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

Other Writing

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: She/her pronouns. 3rd person.

⛅️

Harry’s car skids recklessly into the almost-full parking lot, dismissing the concept of carefulness in favour of confronting the driver behind the wheel of a sunshine-yellow ‘60s VW beetle, who had pulled into the lot moments before- which should have never happened because it had been behind him, to begin with.

As if his mood hadn’t been less than pleasant for the past month, what really set him over the edge was the lack of apology from the said sunshine yellow driver, who only honked his way and proceeded to turn into the parking lot as they seemed to have always intended.

With agitation, Harry neatly swerves into the nearest parking space, barely managing to stay in the lines as he reaches over and snatches his work satchel from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder as he slides from the seat and exits his vehicle.

In hot pursuit, his long legs help him catch up to the sunshine car just in time for the driver to exit, her back turned to him, leaning in through the open door to collect her items.

By the time she turns around and lazily swings the door shut Harry is peering over her, wearing a black hoodie, brows furrowed, his body tense.

She recognises him in an instant- it’s hard not to remember the face of a man who is scowling so sinfully as he hit the hooter for an unnecessary amount of time- all because he couldn't be bothered to indicate.

“Did you not see my blinker?” He grumbles.

“Clearly not.” She torts, her face still and expressionless.

“You’re a moron. It was on.” Each word is more annunciated than the last.

“It wasn’t.” She shrugs, slinging the straps of her bag over her shoulder.

“You clearly need glasses.” Harry huffs in disbelief.

“Maybe if you weren’t blasting your music so loud you would have heard that it wasn’t on.”

Harry feels a wave of shame wash over him at the idea of her seeing him getting a little too into his playlist, in turn, his chest simmers with defensiveness and deflection,

“Your driving fucking sucks…” He says, getting no response only encourages him to rant further, “And your car looks like it’s hanging on by its last thread, no wonder you’re a bad driver.” He gestures to her car with a look of distaste, “It’s a piece of junk.”

She adores her car, it is not only special but holds the heart of many fond times, adventures, people, and sometimes just conversation. The car sure has been through the wringer- in age alone- but she can hardly afford another, and she certainly doesn't want one.

So, she tries not to find offence in this grumpy strangers declaration of her ‘piece of junk’ and does her best to take a deep breath before responding in concession- though her agitation has morphed into sarcasm and it seeps through your sentences,

“Okay, sorry Mister Mercedes. Guess I’ll be more careful next time.”

Harry didn't know what he wanted her to say, but it certainly wasn’t anything along those lines. So with an eye roll and the reminder that he’s close to being late for work, Harry starts to walk away and points out matter-of-factly,

“Yeah fuckin right, you’re an accident waiting to happen.”

“Asshole.”

“I heard that.”

He turns on his heels to see her as calm as ever, an amused sparkle in her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips,

“What ya gonna do? Chew me out some more?”

Harry stared seethingly at the rude and reckless driver who couldn't care less about his mood, her focus was on gathering all the necessary items for whatever task she so desperately had to complete that she was willing to almost kill him.

He meanly mutters, “Have a fantastic day," before walking off for good, dreading work and in a worse mood than ever.

⛅️

Harry has an hour for lunch, grateful for the assortment of cafes and restaurants scattered within the city square, along with plenty of boutiques, art deco, and antiques to name a few.

Most days, he is likely to grab a sandwich or coffee- or both- from the restaurant directly across from his office block, but that would be the third time this week and Harry can’t fathom facing any of the staff in fear of becoming a ‘regular.’

He meanders around the centre and stakes out the array of food options displayed in each glass window.

Just when he thinks he may settle on some early afternoon sushi, Harry spots a bright object from the corner of his vision, his head snapping with such haste he must have strained a muscle.

Parked directly in front of a shoe boutique is his notorious enemy; the sunshine car. And leaning back against a pillar just outside of the store is the bad driver from behind the wheel. She is halfway through smoking a cigarette, her other hand occupied by scrolling through her phone.

As if his scowl was so strong that it was sent straight to her, causing her to sense his presence, she looked up from her phone and smiled mischievously at the realization of her new enemy's arrival.

She tucks her phone into the pocket of her black slacks, taking a puff of her ciggie, a cloud of smoke mixing in with her greeting,

“Ah, Mister Mercedes.”

Harry nears but notices his frustration thicken with each step into her space. He crosses his arms across his chest,

“I recognised your car.”

“Oh, that old piece of junk?” She asks with nonchalance.

“Yes.”

“Bothered you so much that you decided to come over here?” Her pout is melting with pure mischief.

“I’m sorry, okay.” Harry concedes, but it doesn't come off as anything but frustrated so his tone softens in volume and intention, “It was a rough day.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His brows furrow.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Fucking insufferable.” He mutters.

His frustration slips over like that of water on a duck, her mood has been calm all day, and his attitude wasn’t likely to spoil it- right? With another puff, she ponders aloud,

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

There is a moment where Harry almost ponders the purity of his intentions, but dismisses it and chooses to interrogate her- he is far too invested in finding out more about his enemy,

“Do you work here?”

“Obviously.” She shrugs with the softest of scoffs.

“Hope you’re a better employee than a driver.”

Now he’s starting to get under her skin. this is her hour for lunch, why can’t it be spent in peace? She does her damndest to maintain a cool demeanour as she asks again,

“Why are you still here?”

“To apologize, Jesus.” Harry doesn't mean to snap, but neither of them is surprised when he does. His juxtaposition of words and tone render his sorry useless- they both know it.

He tries to reason with her, explaining his frustration, “And all you said was okay.”

She peers over at him incredulously, repeatedly intrigued by the attitude of this man who has gone out of his way to make an enemy out of her,

“What do you want me to say,” her tone facetious and fiery, “I forgive you, we all have bad days, sometimes we take it out on strangers to avoid hurting those close to us, you’re probably actually a great guy?”

“I- yes.”

“Well now that I’ve said it, you can go on your way.”

Harry feels stunned like she just let him walk out into the snow knowing that there was soon to be a blizzard, he can’t reason with her- nor does he care to at this point,

“Jesus. I take back my apology.” He grumbles, hands raised in defeat, his head shaking as he scoffs sourly, “Such a mature little thing, huh?”

She ignores everything but the last sentence, slowly enjoying the opportunities he’s giving her to indulge in going out of her way to increase his already extreme grumpiness.

Once more, Harry curses out under his breath and with zero intent to say another word, begins to walk away from her.

Pulling the phone from her pocket, ready to continue her prior activities, she chuckles and calls over his shoulder,

“Bye, Mister Mercedes.”

⛅️

It has likely been less than a week since their last interaction and Harry’s enemy has decided to treat herself to a proper lunch- sitting down at an actual table in an actual restaurant for a change.

However, she underestimated her fitness levels and loosely accounted for a good portion of the time her lunch break consisted of. By the time she arrived and got back to her own store, there would be less than twenty minutes left to sit at a table.

Takeout would have to do, and once she has placed her order, she waits off to the side of the main counter, waiting to both pay and be gifted with grub.

The food comes quicker than predicted and with excitement she thinks can't be topped, she reaches for her wallet, but the hostess stops her in her tracks and gestures to one of the tables scattered throughout the eatery and informs her,

“The man at table four already paid for your order.”

It’s her sworn enemy, packing up the contents of his belongings before taking a final sip of his nearly-empty Americano. Harry doesn’t acknowledge her.

“What’s with this guy?” She ponders aloud before making the swift and frustrated decision to go over to his table.

He is already standing up to leave, still not looking her way, and with a bough of confusion, she finally speaks up,

“What’s this about?”

“Strange way of saying thank you, Sunshine.”

Harry frowns and she doesn't enjoy the way it makes her feel, giddy and begging for more opportunities to bother him,

“Thank you.”

“Whatever. You’re still a pest.” He grumbles, almost bumping his shoulder into her own as he slips past and hastily exits the restaurant.

⛅️

Harry walks into her store with a better attitude than he has in a long time. Things were starting to look up, but one little thing was still bothering him, and she was staring right at him with a scowl that gave him a run for his money.

Anyhow, he’s here for a reason; an attempt to smooth over the rocky start that was more than likely his fault. And he hopes she’ll take his apology this time.

Harry approaches, and with each step, he gets a better view of her distinct frown, lips turned down, eyes quickly turning to loathsome slits. She is no longer leaning across the front counter with laxation, her body stiffening to attention, her hand pressed firmly to her hip.

She couldn’t fathom anything could have worsened her week, and here he was, presumably planning on sucking away whatever remained of her soul for his own sick gain. With a chest simmering with chaos, she asks with incredulity,

“Seriously?”

Harry blinks back, a little awestruck, ignoring the pang of disappointment that greets his heart when she seems to confirm her distaste for his presence, he embraces his mildly peppy mood and remarks playfully,

“Well hello there, Sunshine.”

“This is not the time.” She snaps.

“Aw, is Miss Ray-of-Sunlight in a mood today?” He coos.

“Mmph.”

She huffs, hardly meeting his eyes, and Harry quite likes how well she emulates his usually grumpy demeanour, he wonders how similar they might be, decides to find out,

“What happened?” He meets her at the counter, lazily resting his body against the counter courtesy of the elbow he balances on. He leans a tad nearer, a tantalizing smile playing at his lips as he teases,

“Did you almost crash into someone with your junkyard on wheels?”

“I’d rather drive this than parade about like an absolute dick in an overpriced German car.” Her tone drips with what Harry feels is both disappointment and disgust.

He feels frozen under her words like his Sunshine had just revealed herself to be Medusa, a sly Succubus.

Now what does he do? His confidence sits on the floor with his converse, his sentences have turned to slosh in his skull and she is staring at him with such distaste that Harry certainly won’t be saying a word.

Stunned to silence, he leans away from her, settling a safe space between their bodies as his features morph from friendly to confused. This only seems to increase her frustration and she fiery snaps,

“Why won't you stop fucking pestering me?”

Harry subconsciously steps back, straightening up and stacking his defensiveness around his skin like a shield. He has no power to prevent a petty eye roll,

“Oh, please. This is no treat for me either, Sunshine.”

“Are you kidding?” She gets ready to leave him standing alone in the middle of her own store.

Harry panics and blurts, “Hear me out!” It comes off more desperate than he would have liked. But she has stopped and addresses him with crossed arms, waiting for his next words. Harry is in autopilot mode, more nonsense spilling from his lips, “I- want to make it up to you?”

“Why, so you can clear your conscience?” She scoffs with sass.

“Sure, whatever you say, smart mouth.” Harry has regressed and reflects her unpleasant temperament.

“Go away.”

Their gazes are glued by the calamity of their conversation, tied together with frustration that feels impossible to unwind.

Harry just wants to tell her why he’s here in the first place, but what’s the point? His presence is evidently worsening her day.

And though the soft curiosity in him wants to know why she seems so down, Harry’s focus is returning to the ruin of his afternoon. So, in true fashion, he flails his arms in disappointed defeat and turns his back on her with a wonderful version of goodbye,

“Fine. Fuck it. Have a miserable one, Sunshine.”

“Likewise, dickhead.” She dismisses, grateful his mood is now as miserable as her own.

⛅️

When Harry finally exits the glass entrance to the bottom floor, relief rushing over him now that work is over, he’s hardly paying any attention to anything or anyone, already scanning his phone for notifications. But then he sees his cloudy sunshine leaning against a wall, arms crossed, no car in sight.

He ponders pretending to not have noticed- walked away and gone about his eve. That would never happen though, he wants- needs to see her again- his stomach stays unsettled the deeper their discourse divulged.

He heads over to her with unnecessary haste, scolding himself as he comes to a halt in front of her. She has been aware of him from the minute he exited the building, already prepared for his arrival.

His body waits expectantly as she eyes him up and down, a cheeky glint in her eyes and when Harry understands that she is in no rush to speak up, his undying impatience rears its head,

“What do you want?”

“For you to stop being so grumpy.” She shrugs.

“Rich coming from you.” He mutters, but when she attempts to turn her back on him as they had done so many times before, more words rush out, “Okay, okay. What’s up?”

“I’ve decided to hear you out.”

“Gee, how kind of you.”

“I cannot imagine how anyone deals with you on a daily basis.”

Harry doesn’t take it as an insult, he is fueled forward by the fact that she might be willing to listen,

“I’m actually very likeable.”

“Do you want me to hear you out or not?”

He thinks for a moment, leaving her to ponder what in her right mind caused her to take a walk to see him in the first place.

But, he wants to do this as… right as their attitudes might approve of, so he bravely wraps his palm atop her own, gently gesturing for her to follow and she allows him to drag her along. He encourages,

“C’mon.”

“What?” She asks but proceeds to let him guide her.

“It’s almost six, let’s go eat.” He informs, one step ahead of her as they take the short trip to his regular restaurant

“That is the last thing I want to do with you.” She grumbles.

“I’ll pay.” He soothes.

“Fine.”

Harry keeps her hand cradled in his own, even as they enter the restaurant and he asks the waiter for a table for two. In fact, he only lets go to pull out a chair for her.

He asks what drink she prefers and if she’d be open to splitting a plate of fries with him.

But she has been eyeing him with suspicion, and once it’s clear that this won’t waver until she confronts it, the waiter leaves and allows her to question,

“Why are you being nicer than usual?”

“Can you stop being snarky for even a second?” He nearly snaps.

“Ah, Mister Mercedes is back.” She nods as if it were what she had expected all along.

“No,- Jesus fuck.” Harry feels desperate again, scooching his chair forward, his arms folded across the table, leaning in to ensure her unwavering attention,

“I- almost got into another accident the day we met.” He sighs out with shame, ready to be met with warranted ridicule. Her expression has already turned to one of bemusement. But he’s not done yet,

“Turns out my left blinker bulb burned out... so...”

She tilts back and finally relaxes into her chair, a gleeful grin spreading to her sparkling eyes,

“Sweet vindication.”

“Brat.”

“Dick.”

Harry has little confidence to spare, now that his confession is out in the open, he is in the dark.

Her demeanour has slightly diverted swells of amusement and satisfaction dancing along the tabletop.

“Just wanted to try and make it up to you.” He shrugs earnestly, unfortunately having to rely on her newfound information to dictate her next reaction.

“Make it up to me?”

He can’t convince himself to meet her eyes, his lowering to study the rings donning his fingers, fearful of humiliation, but not enough to waste the opportunity sitting across from him, looking overjoyed with sweet satisfaction, and far too endearing for him to resist,

“Mm. I didn’t want you to think I was just a grump but…” Her face seems to soften and he feels it safe to continue, “Been tryna ask you out on a date. since.”

“A date?”

“Yeah, a date.”

“Are you crazy?” Her features return to one of confusion, bewildered at his seemingly sudden turnaround, “I don’t like you.”

“Well, I like you.”

“Forgive me for finding that hard to believe.”

It’s true- that he likes you, and that it’s hard to believe. He likes the surprise shifting his statement.

“I do.” He nods as if it’s been obvious from the start, “And your attitude, and your silly yellow car.” He admits with bashful fondness, “Guess I hoped we could start over?”

“Sunshine.” She says.

“Hm?”

He ponders aloud and it’s her turn to lean forward, stretching her arms across the table. Her gaze has returned to one of sternness,

“My car. Her name is Sunshine.” She allows Harry a moment to soak up the coincidental information. “She is a piece of junk, but I love her, so shut up about my baby.”

Harry’s head tilts back when a bough of laughter suddenly leaves his lips- amused and even more attracted than he thought possible, he nods along in agreement and chuckles, “Fair enough.”

There is an elongated pause- at least Harry perceives it to be- as she thinks over the oddly pleasurable past few weeks of finding herself in the presence of a grumpy but playful man.

So, she gives him one last good look over before deciding to openly give in,

“You have been a consistent pain in my ass.” He pouts cutely, and she goes on, “Guess we’ll have to find out if there’s more to you.”

He smiles at that, his head and heart finally settling at the promise of better nights of sleep to follow. Moreso, he’d like to find out more about this so-called Sunshine who seems to simultaneously rile him up and calm him down with ease,

“‘M name’s Harry, by the way.” He extends a hand.

“Y/n.” Her palm meets his eagerly.

Here we go children, this one was really fun to write, I hope it meets your expectations! - Em. xo 💞 this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #elioslover #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles grumpy #harry styles concept #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles au

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perseephoneee · 2 months ago

Text

caroling [ficmas 2024] [elijah mikaelson x f!reader]

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

@wholoveseggs : Hiii darling!! I have a request for ficmas!! Elijah Mikaelson (duh!) with either caroling (hilarious) or hot cocoa ☕💕

warnings: caroling

author's note: lissa my beloved i hope i did elijah justice <3 this fic took me like four buffy episodes and die hard to write :p

playlist:

christmas (baby please come home) -- darlene love

that's christmas to me -- pentatonix

snow song -- adrianne lanker

The holidays were one of your favorite times of the year, full of community and lightness in times of darkness. Even with Mystic Falls becoming a frozen wasteland, you enjoyed going downtown and seeing all the decorations and bright lights adorning the streets.

Your job as a librarian was also enriched by the season. Although Mystic Falls library was small and not often used, you did your best with the other staff to create a welcoming environment. This included hosting a book drive, lots of community craft events, and caroling.

You loved to sing since you were tiny but hated caroling season in Mystic Falls. It was a community-wide thing, and it was also a competition to raise money for the Mystic Falls Foodbank. Except that Nancy Springborg won every single year. And loved to rub it in your face.

The caroling groups involved many of the students in the various elementary and middle schools, especially the foster kids, who usually didn't receive much during the holiday season. All the kids were assigned to the different caroling hosts, and somehow, even with the random assignments, Nancy managed to have the best-sounding group with the best choreography to win the stupid competition.

Not that you were bitter.

"If you hate caroling so much, why do you continue to sign up?" Arielle, your co-worker, asked you as she cut more snowflake decorations. You both were assistant librarians hoping to work your way up the ladder. Currently, that meant doing the menial work of holiday decorations. The backroom was too small to work in, so you were both at the front desk.

"I don't hate caroling; I hate the caroling competition. It's stupid and doesn't achieve anything," you scoffed, aggressively snipping the paper.

"Except money for the food bank."

"Don't argue semantics with me."

"It's supposed to be fun, and the kids look forward to it," Arielle grinned, pushing her glasses up her nose. You ripped your snowflake out of anger and let out a noise of frustration.

"It'd be fun if Nancy lost. She's such a bitch."

"Who's a bitch?"

You looked up to see Elijah Mikaelson, fingers tapping the counter as he looked at you with a half smile. You had never heard him say a swear word before, and it took your brain a few seconds to compute.

"Nancy Springborg. Y/N's arch nemesis," Arielle responded for you, finishing her snowflake. She sent you a knowing glance as you opened and closed your mouth like a fish.

"Archnemesis? My, I didn't take you for the vengeful sort," Elijah tutted.

"That would require you to know more about me," you replied, rolling your chair over to the counter. "Can I get something for you today, Mr. Mikaelson?"

"Elijah. And yes, I have a few archival books on loan that I'd like to pick up."

Elijah had been dutifully working on recording the town's history. He had managed to add a lot more information than was previously recorded. It was almost like he had lived through it.

"I can grab them. Be right back," Arielle nodded, leaving you alone with Elijah. In addition to recording Mystic Fall's history, he had also been coming in at least once a week and had become a subject of infatuation. Arielle wished you would just ask him out, but that would require bravery, which you were sorely lacking. So, instead, you pined from afar and whined when you had one too many to drink.

"What makes this Nancy Springborg your archnemesis?" Elijah asked.

"She always wins the godsdamn caroling competition and has to be an asshole about it. I always get second," you frowned, twiddling your fingers. "I know it's for the kids…but I really just hate her smug expression."

Elijah chuckled. "I know people like that."

"How do you handle it?" you questioned.

"You, my dear, are too kind for how I deal with it."

You furrowed your brows in curiosity, but Arielle came back right at that second with two heavy tomes that left a satisfying smack on the counter. You scanned the books out to his library card, watching him not even stress a muscle as he put both under his arm.

"Have a lovely day, Y/N. Arielle," Elijah nodded, heading out the door as your gaze followed him wistfully. You could almost hear Arielle shaking her head from behind you. You swiveled in your chair.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball," you chimed, returning to your snowflakes as Arielle laughed.

The assignments for the caroling groups came out after your shift. You were already at home, the sky dark at five p.m. It was a frozen dinner night, and you were nursing a cup of green tea while you looked at who you got this year and went through your emails. You had a few new kids and a couple you've had before. One of them, Olive, was a girl you got every year. Her Mom was a widow who worked night shifts and often couldn't do much for Christmas. Still, her Mom gave you cookies every Christmas as a thank you.

You were debating putting on a holiday movie when your doorbell rang. You weren't expecting any guests but went to check anyway. Surprise crossed your face as you saw Elijah outside. You opened your door.

"How do you know where I live?" you inquired, leaning against the door frame.

"Arielle told me," Elijah smiled. "May I come in?"

"Uh, yeah. Come in," you said, moving out of the way. He entered, taking a glance

around your apartment. It wasn't very organized; you had books spilling everywhere. But it was clean; you weren't unhygienic. You shrugged.

"I have a librarian's salary, can't afford much."

"I think it's lovely," Elijah nodded, looking appreciatively at all the titles on your shelf. You shifted awkwardly.

"What can I do for you, Mr. M– Elijah," you caught yourself, crossing your arms.

"I used to sing when I was a young boy," he spoke, turning towards you. "My Mother would bring me to all the different houses with my siblings. As I got older, I stopped singing and got into playing piano. I still enjoy a choral piece or two." You maneuvered your way to the kitchen, pouring Elijah a cup of tea. He nodded appreciatively. "I was hoping I could help you with the caroling competition."

"I'm sure you have better things to do than participate in a caroling contest," you rolled your eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Anything one desires is worth doing," Elijah sipped his tea, nodding appreciatively. "Rose?"

"Cherry blossom. Got it for springtime, but I am still working through it."

"It's good," Elijah put his cup down. "So, caroling?"

"I hope you're not expecting some fancy choir. It's me and a bunch of children."

"Then I'll be in good company."

Was Elijah flirting with you? Maybe not by traditional standards, but he sounded interested. You weren't used to anything like this and didn't want to look too hard into it.

"It's a week of rehearsals for one night of caroling; we start Monday," you raised your brow, almost in a challenge. Elijah grinned.

"I look forward to it." His gaze caught on the television. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"I was going to put on a movie, that's all." You shifted your weight as you debated your question. "Do you want to stay? I got delicious frozen food."

"It would be my honor," Elijah replied, removing his jacket and hanging it near your front door. He was dressed in the same suit from earlier, and you realized you had never seen him in anything other than the finest. In comparison, you were in loose lounge pants and a T-shirt. "What are we watching?"

"The best Christmas movie ever– Die Hard," you grinned, going to your pantry to find your popcorn.

"Is Die Hard a Christmas movie?" Elijah questioned, causing you to stop in your tracks.

"Don't ask stupid questions," you tutted. "Let me introduce you to the wonder of John McClane saving Christmas."

Elijah ended up enjoying the movie, although he had many questions throughout. You had to pause several times to tell him to trust the process. He also participated in your frozen dinner buffet, which was entertaining since he dressed like he was going to a Michelin-star restaurant. He ended up leaving hours later. When you closed the door, it took you about thirty seconds before you descended into a giggling mess and called Arielle.

Monday couldn't come fast enough. Rehearsals were scheduled for after school at the library, and you had already set out snacks and refreshments when Elijah showed up. He was still dressed to impress. You spun around with a snack tray in your hands.

"Cheese cube, Mr. Mikaelson?"

"You really know how to impress a man," Elijah chuckled, picking up one of the cheeses. Somehow, he made eating cheese seductive. You turned away, swallowing. "Am I too early?"

"Not at all; children are just too late." Even as you said it, though, your usual favorite, Olive, showed up. She bounded through the door, her braided pigtails bouncing behind her.

"Hi, Miss!" she squealed, going to give you a hug, which you returned greedily.

"Hey girlie, how's sixth grade treating you?"

"It's really cool because I get a locker now, and I have more than one teacher, and I like my classes," Olive rambled, dropping her backpack onto the floor. You raised a brow, and she picked it up and put it to the side.

"I'm glad school is going well."

"Yeah, but I'm still excited to go home. Although this time, I'm excited to sing."

"It's not caroling without you, Ollie," you grinned. Olive finally noticed Elijah and peered at him expectedly.

"Who's this?"

"This is Mr. Mikaelson. He's going to help us out this year so we can beat Nancy."

"Oh good! I want her to perish. That's a new word I learned in class. Perish."

You rolled your eyes. Elijah crouched down to her height, narrowing his eyes.

"That's quite a big word for a small girl like yourself."

"I'm a big girl," Olive huffed, crossing her arms. Elijah acted disinterested, hiding his smile. "Miss! Tell Mr. Mikaelson I'm a big girl."

"That's a battle you'll have to fight yourself," you grinned as Olive returned to chastising Elijah. The other kids soon showed up: Graham, Norman, Sarah, Maddy, and James, and you guys got to work practicing your song. You decided to do "That's Christmas To Me" this year, as it was a completely choral piece with many parts for each kid. Nancy always chose a piece she could do a solo in, and somehow, she still won. Completely defeating the spirit of Christmas. Your practice ended well, and Elijah ended up walking you home since it was dark already.

"Thanks for helping out," you shrugged, looking over at him.

"My pleasure," he smiled. "You have a lovely voice."

"Eh, it's fine. I stay on key."

"I would love to hear you sing more without many youngsters overlapping."

"'Youngsters?' What are you, 80?"

You both laughed over that. You arrived at your door before he could respond. You stood there awkwardly, looking at your boots.

"Perhaps you can entertain me one of these evenings with a solo performance?" Elijah postured, stepping closer to you. There was a doormat worth of distance between you and him. You had trouble meeting his eyes.

"Perhaps," you gulped. "Good night, Elijah."

"Good night, Y/N," Elijah nodded, stepping away and leaving you to your home.

The rest of the rehearsals went virtually the same.

Many of the kids liked Elijah, although Olive still found enjoyment in teasing him. You guys sounded a lot tighter than your groups usually did, and by the time the caroling day came along, you felt semi-confident.

No group took the same route; otherwise, citizens would be exhausted from hearing music all night. Instead, every group met at city hall and got an assigned route, and a judge accompanied them. Part of you thought that maybe Nancy was sleeping with the judges, and that's how she won. Except that the judges were all elderly women and a gay man, so unless they were attracted to the Devil, it was likely not the case.

You were waiting inside the foyer of city hall, nursing a cup of hot tea from the refreshment table, when the Devil approached.

"Y/N, don't you look, darling," Nancy crooned, coming to stand in front of you. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled, and she wore a sweater dress with an expensive-looking brooch. You narrowed your eyes.

"Hi, Nancy," you groaned, forcing on a smile.

"I think it's cute how you do this every year," Nancy smiled, touching your arm lightly. She glanced around, finding something more interesting. "Good luck."

"You too," you grimaced, sticking your tongue out as she turned away. Elijah decided at that moment to show up and hid his grin at your behavior.

"She seems pleasant," Elijah chimed, hands in his trouser pockets. You were still scowling.

"If you like people with sticks up their ass, sure," you added, downing your tea in one gulp and throwing the cup out. Elijah bit his lip to hide his laughter. You pretended not to notice. "Are the kids here yet?"

"They're around the corner getting hot chocolate."

"That's good…good," you trailed off, staring after where Nancy walked off. Elijah came to stand in front of you.

"Worry does not serve you, my dear," Elijah murmured. "Tonight will be great, and it is because of you and your resilience." His eyes were molten pools of understanding, and you felt that if you stared into them, it might give you the answers to all of your questions in life. It was the first time you truly looked in his eyes, as most of the time, you were too afraid to.

"Okay," you mumbled. You gave yourself a shake, blowing out your lips. "We got this. Let's rally the troops."

It took you about two houses to get your rhythm and for the kids to remember the pitch. You're pretty sure some of the moms tipped you more because of Elijah charming them, but you weren't going to complain. Still, you were a hundred shy of your goal by the end of your route, and you saw Nancy's group parading down the street, already overflowing with cash.

"This is bullshit," Olive swore, glaring at Nancy's group.

"Language," both you and Elijah said at the same time.

"Why do they have matching outfits?" Graham asked, speaking loudly with his ear muffs.

"Because Ms. Springborg has too much time on her hands," Elijah sighed. Sarah and Maddy both giggled, elbowing each other. You were pretty sure they thought Elijah was cute, and you couldn't disagree. James, a quiet boy with glasses, tugged on Elijah's sleeve.

"A-Are we going to do the thing?" he murmured, voice small. Your brows furrowed.

"What thing?" you inquired as the other kids piped up. Elijah shushed them and turned to you.

"We had an idea if you would consider it," Elijah postured.

"When did you guys come up with an idea?"

"When you weren't around," Elijah smirked. "We practiced another song; what if we tried it at the last house?"

"B-But I don't know the song."

"Yes, you do; I've heard you sing it when you work," Elijah whispered the song to you, and even as nerves gripped your stomach, you agreed to do it. The kids looked excited enough to convince you it was the right thing to do.

You went up to the last house, palms sweaty, as Elijah climbed the steps to knock on the door. It appeared to be a Christmas party, which meant a lot more people than you wanted to perform in front of. A middle-aged woman answered the door.

"Good evening, ma'am. What a lovely home you have," Elijah smiled. "We hope you will give us the pleasure of listening to our song this evening." He tacked on some more compliments for good measure, and you could already see the woman swooning. Elijah came back down a moment later, nodding that it was time to start. You sucked in a breath. Elijah counted down for the kids as they started singing.

"Christmas,"

"The snow's coming down," you sang. Your voice was shaky but loud enough to carry on. Elijah and the kids kept up the backing vocals as you sang the lead. "I'm watching it fall; lots of people around; baby, please come home."

The rest of the party guests came out on the porch, and a couple of other houses also came to see. Your hands were shaking, and all you wanted to do was shove them into your pockets. Olive came up to your left, grabbing your hand in support. Elijah came to your right to take your other hand until all of you were in one happy, hand-holding circle.

"They're singing 'Deck the Halls.'

But it's not like Christmas at all

'Cause I remember when you were here

And all the fun we had last year,"

As you sang, you couldn't keep your eyes off Elijah for more than a few seconds. He couldn't keep his eyes off you, either.

The song finished before you realized, and your group enveloped you in a hug as applause broke out from the houses. You saw Nancy down the street, scowling at you as everyone pitched in their money for your performance. Just as the kids let you go, you also turned around to hug Elijah. Some part of your brain thought it was also totally normal to kiss him. You pulled away almost immediately, cheeks burning.

"Did we win? Did we win?" Olive chirped, grabbing your sleeve and distracting you. You laughed, completely forgetting about the competition the second you started singing.

"Who cares? I'm just happy I got to see Nancy look that unhappy," you shrugged, waving to Nancy as she stormed away in a huff.

"I'm happy I finally got to hear you sing," Elijah whispered to you. You jumped, spinning around to face him. "The kiss was an added bonus."

"I-I didn't mean to, I'm sorry–"

Elijah kissed you, cutting you off. His hands wrapped around your waist, his lips a firm reminder of everything you loved about the holiday season. His arms stayed around you even as he pulled away. "I should've done that sooner."

"Yeah, we were all waiting," Olive said, rolling her eyes. "Norman bet me a Hershey bar on it."

"Did not!" Norman retorted, and he and Olive broke down into semantics. Elijah pulled you back to him, eyes crinkled in amusement from the two kids.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hello," Elijah brushed your hair away from your face. "Can I kiss you again?"

You nodded, letting him pull you back in, feeling like you won the caroling competition already.

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #daniel gilles #tvdu #the vampire diaries #the originals #ficmas 2024 #ficmas #my writing

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gothcsz · 6 months ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XVI.

GIF by javier-pena

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Who doesn't fuck on the first date?

WORD COUNT: ~15.8k (sorry not sorry; I had a lot to say)

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: smut, making out, a lot of hair pulling bc it's my kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, a soft and nervous!javi, but also authoritative!javi, half assed and lightly researched stargazing, gun mention, very brief crime/medical talk, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that i'm probably forgetting.

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

A/N: yeah this one's a long one everyone but idgaf i was twirling my hair and blushing the entire time i wrote this!! we all know what we've gotten ourselves into, okay?!?! mwah love you all hope you enjoy. BON APÉTIT!! <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3 [ song inspooo ]

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma’s nails drum restlessly against the wooden armrest of the chair, each tap echoing her impatience. The stale air is stifling, saturated with the antiseptic scent that clings to this place. She bites her lip, eyes darting to the mirrored wall where she knows her father stands unseen, observing.

It’s not like she’s in trouble or anything— just standard procedure to get her statement from the other night.

Thankfully, nothing else happened after she’d been dropped off at home. She staked out at the window in her bedroom until the deputy assigned to keep watch arrived. Only then did she scrub off all the blood and dirt in the shower, locking herself in her room and clutching the plush snake Javi had won for her at the fair to her chest until she eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

It’s been three days since the incident and she’s barely seen her father or Javier. They’ve had their hands full dealing with the girl at the hospital and managing the newfound attention gained from the attack.

The larger towns in the surrounding areas are getting curious about what’s happening in this remote corner of Texas.

The sheriff had been very adamant about not conducting her questioning himself. “It wouldn’t be right,” he had said, “Conflict of interest.” Instead, he sent in Javier. As if that was any better.

The door opens with a creak and he steps in, his uniformed presence both familiar and attractively official… it has her squirming in her seat. His dark eyes meet hers for a brief, charged moment before he breaks the gaze, closing the door behind him.

They have to act professional, hiding the fact that they were together when she found the girl. But damn, has she missed him and has he missed her. It’s only been three days.

“Miss Leighton,” He greets, his voice monotonous, but she can hear the undercurrent of tenderness, how he naturally reacts to her. He takes a seat at the opposite side of the table, setting a folder between them. “Thanks for comin’ in. Just need to ask you a few questions about what happened on the night of the fourth.”

She nods, fingers twisting together in her lap. “S’no problem. I just wanna help as best as I can.”

He clears his throat, opening the folder and pulling out a sheet of paper, glancing briefly at the mirror before continuing. “Start from the beginning. What were you doing out there?”

“I was out for a walk,” she begins, telling him something he already knows. “Needed a break from all the noise of the party. That’s when I heard somethin’— wheezin’ and groanin’ comin’ from behind a tree.”

He scribbles lazily on the paper, his face impassive. Anything to keep up appearances. “What did you do after that?”

“I walked towards the sound,” her voice trembles slightly at the memory, and this has her father huffing from the other side of the mirror. “That’s when I saw her lyin’ there on the ground. She was... she was hurt real bad.”

“Was anyone else there when you found her?”

Her heart stutters. “No. I didn’t see anyone else,” it’s not a lie, technically.

Her eyes fall down to his fingers as he writes. The slight tension in his knuckles and rhythmic flexing of his tendons, veins that prominently run along the back of his hand, the subtle grip he has on the pen. Paloma knows this isn’t the time to get all worked up, yet she can’t help it. He makes the simplest things look so irresistibly attractive.

“And then you called for help?” he snaps her out of the trancelike state she’d honed in on while watching him write. His lips twitch as he suppresses a smirk at the sight of the faint flush over her cheeks.

She clears her throat before answering, “Yes, I sought out the deputy sheriff for help.” Paloma doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the feeling of warm blood coating her fingers as she desperately tried to put pressure on the girl’s wounds. “I tried to keep her awake, to talk to her, but she was barely conscious. She just... she looked so scared. I ain’t ever seen anythin’ like it.”

Her father’s stare is heavy and so damn palpable. Watching every move, listening to every word. This situation is as difficult for him as it is for her.

Javier nods, remaining professional, making a final note before pulling out another few sheets of lined papers and sliding them over to her, along with his pen. “Thank you, Miss. Leighton. You’ve been very helpful. If you could just write everything in your own words, that’d be great. No detail is too small.”

Every time he addresses her as Miss Leighton in that authoritative tone of his, it makes her feel coy despite her thoughts being anything but bashful. “Okay… Is that all?” She reaches for the materials, clicking the pen and beginning to write down her recollections.

“For now,” he stands, “But we might have more questions later.”

As he walks towards the door, she lets her eyes rake over the expanse of his back, the uniform shirt shifting with each movement and clinging to his figure. It pulls taut at his shoulders and she wants to reach out and touch him, to find solace in his presence, ask for an update on the girl. But the current audience doesn’t allow for that, so she’ll just have to wait until they’re alone again.

He turns and gives her a brief, reassuring smile before exiting the room, leaving her flustered by doing absolutely nothing.

“Followin’ noises out in the middle of the woods, the hell is wrong with her.” Is what Javi is greeted to once he joins the sheriff on the other side of the mirror. The older man looks exasperated by his daughter’s sparse testimony.

“Out there all by herself. Can’t ever just stay put. Had she been there at the wrong time, had somethin’ happened to her...” his hands curl into fists, and Javier decides to interject before he gets too worked up and blows up on her in front of the entire department.

“But nothing did, and now we’ve got a survivor who potentially saw the assailant and can give us something to go off of.”

Romeo exhales heavily, running his hand down his face then rubbing his jaw. “S’just so damn hard for me not to get like this when she’s involved. M’already stressin’ ‘bout this girl not wakin’ up and all the other shit… ‘n now she’s caught up in it. I feel like this damn thing is gonna be the death’a me.”

Javi’s eyes flicker over to her. She sits focused on writing her statement, long hair tucked behind her ear, unaware of how she’s driving her dad up the fucking wall.

“Her statement isn’t of much use, anyway. She didn’t see anything helpful, so there’s no need for her to stay involved.”

“Good.” There’s a brief pause, a contemplative silence, before Romeo excuses himself to get prepared for an important meeting to coordinate their first official press conference to address the murders.

They’ve been holding off on it since each victim came from a different area, which in turn came with an influx of differing information. But after working out details from the occult aspect of the investigation and getting law enforcement from each town on board, they collectively decided to let Sheriff Romeo Leighton and Deputy Sheriff Javier Peña be the ones to take it publicly.

The press conference is a crucial step forward, a chance to rally the communities and potentially even bring more information out of the woodwork. They’re in the process of setting up an anonymous tip line, hoping to encourage any reluctant witnesses to come forward.

Javier understands that this is part of the job, yet he can’t help but feel uneasy about his name circulating the news again. He knows the accolades attached to his career, the reasons people recognize him. It’s why he couldn’t bear staying in Laredo.

She finishes writing everything down, her hand cramping a little towards the end. Minutes drag by, the annoying hum of the fluorescents filling the room, before the door opens again and Javier reappears. Her heart flutters, a small smile on her lips. “I think I got it all written down.” She slides the papers over, and he silently puts the sheets into the folder.

“You workin’ today?” He asks casually. Her eyes flit over to the mirror. “Don’t worry. He’s in his office.”

The tension leaves her shoulders and she slouches slightly. “Yeah. Right after this, actually.” She brings her wrist up to check the time. She’s set to be there in twenty minutes.

“What time do you take your lunch?” Javi leans forward on the table, bracing his large hands on its edge, causing his arms to flex as he towers over her. She swallows back a small moan; he just looks so sexy in his uniform, mustache trimmed, jaw sharp, dark brown hair combed to the side yet clearly mussed from running his fingers through it.

“One,” she breathes out, looking up at him through her lashes, wetting her lips.

“I’ll see you at one. I’ll pull up ‘round back.” He rasps his knuckles along the table’s surface before taking the file into his hands. “Other than that, you’re free to go, Miss Leighton.” Back to being professional, yet she catches his flirty lilt.

“Thank you, officer,” she quips back, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Their repartee is a reminder that even in the midst of all this chaos, there are moments of sweetness. She looks forward to seeing him on her break, definitely attracted to how he just… made the plans without question.

He holds the door open for her, and she purposefully brushes against him while walking past. The contact is electric, brief, but tantalizing. He exhales through his nose, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re such a tease,” Javi mutters, amusement lacing his tone.

She glances back over her shoulder and winks, “Just givin’ you somethin’ to look forward to later.”

His gaze follows her as she walks away, the sway of her hips not lost on him.

They’re nestled in a back alleyway between two abandoned buildings, remnants of an old bank and a long-forgotten pharmacy, not far from the library. She’s perched up on his lap, lips desperately chasing his, the lunch she had packed for the day left in the front seat.

It’s no surprise they find themselves here, their kisses frantic and heated, his hands resting respectfully on her waist, even though he aches to let them roam along her curves.

One too many flirtatious jokes, a few lingering gazes, and Paloma giving him her bedroom eyes were all it took for Javier to usher her into the backseat of his police cruiser, ready to accept whatever she is willing to give him.

After all, she calls the shots— deciding how far they go. She takes what she needs, and he, attuned to her desires, follows her lead.

“The lost art of just kissin’,” she sighs out once she pulls away, placing a sweet kiss to the faint scar on his nose. The tips of her acrylic nails scratch softly along his scalp, and he lets out a shaky breath, fingers digging into her hips.

“Got me feelin’ like I’m seventeen again, nena.”

She giggles softly. “Oh c’mon Javi, we both know you were doin’ a whole lot more than just kissin’ at seventeen.”

“Weren’t you?” He teases, leaning in to brush his lips against her jaw. Her head rolls back onto her shoulder, the scratchiness from his mustache tickling her skin.

“I plead the fifth.”

Their lips connect again, her tongue licking into his mouth. He grunts at the feeling of it intertwined with his own.

She’s so addicting, her kisses more intoxicating than any vice he’s ever known. Purer than the finest cocaine, more potent than the strongest weed strain, a greater buzz than the nicotine. He could lose himself for hours in the feel of her soft, plump lips and the warmth of her body pressed against his.

It’s a slow, sensual dance of tongues and lips, saliva and sweat. Each touch needier than the last, her taste imprinting itself on his memory. His hands roam up and down her sides, feeling the gentle curve of her waist and the softness of her skin through the fabric of her dress.

“You, sweetheart, have the sweetest lip gloss I’ve ever tasted,” he murmurs when they break to catch their breaths, kissing the corner of her mouth.

His expression is absolutely blissed-out, lips swollen from her playful bites, hair tousled where her fingers tugged, and hazelnut eyes darkened with pure lust. She feels a rush of heat flash through her entirely, every inch of her skin tingling with a craving that matches his.

“S’a honey balm from the Miller’s down at the farmers market. Got it in the strawberry flavor,” she smiles, pursing her lips and smacking them together playfully.

Strawberries and honey. He’s definitely in love.

“Gotta get you more of that. Quickly.” He squeezes her hips again, and she moves her fingers from his hair, trailing down to grab his wrists, bringing his hands to rest on her rear over the skirt of her sundress.

“You can touch me, Javi. I ain’t gonna bite.”

“But I might. I’m holdin’ back here, baby.” Despite his words, he takes the supple skin of her ass into his big hands and kneads gently. Oh, it feels so good, she can’t help but rock against his half hard erection, both of them sighing out in unison.

“Oooh, maybe you’re right. Tryin’ to hold out for as long as I can,” her movements slow to a stop, a teasing smirk on her lips when she feels the twitch beneath his uniform pants.

“Take your time. It’s not like you’re drivin’ me crazy over here,” his voice drops to a hoarse whisper, a little raspy from the cigarette he’d just smoked and how breathless her kisses have left him. He frees one hand to bring hers up to his lips, kissing her knuckles and nipping gently at her fingertips.

“That’s like, the whole point,” her breath falters as his lips leave a trail of kisses, ending at the pulse point on her wrist where he softly bites.

She gasps his name out, his tongue soothing the spot he’s bitten.

“Perdóname, querida. You’re just so soft and taste so sweet,” his voice is still low, eyes sparkling with eagerness, it has her thighs twitching around his hips.

“Heard you got a show on Friday...” he begins, lips still brushing against her wrist, utterly captivated by her.

“Mhm, goin’ to rehearse with the band after my shift,” her fingertip traces up the strong line of his jaw, softly pinching at his ear lobe affectionately.

Such an innocent touch, so softhearted on her part and he genuinely feels like he’s on cloud nine. Javi drops her wrist from his lips, now shifting to play with her hair. He revels in its silky softness between his fingers and how right it feels to have her on his lap. “How’s your music going?”

“A lot better than it was. Had a slow start but I’ve been workin’ on things again.” She’s gone back to her hobby after neglecting it. The support from her bandmates, who hadn’t totally bailed after her little impromptu break, has been a tremendous relief.

“And when do I get to hear them?”

She snorts softly, shaking her head. “Whenever they’re ready to be heard.”

“Well, that just doesn’t seem fair,” he protests, lightly tugging on her hair.

“You ain’t entitled to my art. Such a man sometimes,” A spark of arousal flares in her core at the pull to her scalp. If he gets her any more wet, she’s certain it’ll seep through her flimsy underwear, staining the crotch of his khaki work pants.

Have fun explaining that to the sheriff.

He gives her an annoyed look which has a smug smile ghosting over her lips. He can be so sassy sometimes.

“So you’ve got a show Friday...” he begins again, curious hands tracing down the length of her body, eliciting a soft keen from her.

“Uh huh...”

“And the bar’s closed Saturday for a private event...” His touch shifts to the outside of her thighs, gently bunching up the frilly skirt, fingers grazing the newly exposed skin.

“Right...” She’s only half-listening, lost in the distracting sensation of his hands on her, each caress sending sparks of pleasure straight to her clit. He seems to know exactly where to apply pressure, how to grasp her just right.

“Come over,” he mutters, his invitation now sending her heart racing.

“So forward, Javi. At least take a girl out first.”

“It’s not like that... but it can be like that if that’s what you want,” he replies with a lopsided grin, eyes gleaming with affection. “I do want to do something nice for you, baby.”

She tilts her head, studying his handsome features with admiration. Kristy was right, he definitely resembles the Hollywood cowboys.

“So, like a date?” Paloma needs to hear him say it, her thumb now smoothing over his mustache.

It feels oddly adolescent to him, hearing it put that way, but he nods, squeezing her thighs gently. “Yeah, a date.” Javier tilts his head to kiss the pad of her thumb.

Her smile widens and she leans in to press their lips together. “I’m taking that as a yes?” his words are muffled against her eager mouth.

“Si, Javi. Now stop talkin’,” she groans out, their lips fervently meeting again.

Given the green light to touch her, his hands roam freely; from her thighs, to her ass, to her waist— he can’t get enough. She arches her back, encouraging him to keep going.

He hesitates when his hand hovers over her chest, unsure if she wants for him to get handsy there.

Sensing his need for her approval, Paloma guides his large palm to press against her breast. A low moan escapes his lips as he feels the plushness, fingers sinking into her skin and mouth swallowing her gasp.

He fondles the flesh gently, thumb brushing over the stiffened peak of her nipple that pokes through the thin fabric. “No bra, chiquita?” He pants against her lips when she pulls back, her eyes fluttering close as he continues to toy with her.

“S’too hot out to wear a bra,” she whines pathetically when he pinches, biting her lower lip.

“Hmm...” He moves to get a better look at her. A sultry expression of pleasure gracing her features. “Is it too hot for panties?” The hand on her thigh starts to inch inward, testing boundaries, and her eyes snap open, meeting his.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teases, planting another kiss on his nose then gently guiding both of his hands back to their original place on her hips.

His lips form into a playful pout, and she can’t resist pinching his cheeks. “So, Saturday night, your place. What do I need to wear ‘n what time do I need to show up?”

“A pretty dress like this is just fine,” he answers, eyes scanning her figure appreciatively, noting the delicate floral pattern of the little number she’s wearing now. “Eight sound good?”

“Sounds just right to me, cowboy.”

Parting from him takes so much willpower, but she manages, glancing at the time and realizing she barely has ten minutes to fix her slightly disheveled appearance before returning to work. Time had flown by entirely too fast, though it always tends to whenever she’s with him.

Damn, now she’ll have to sneakily eat her lunch through the afternoon.

He pulls up to the back entrance of the library, away from the bustling main street and prying eyes. She leans over the console, her lips seeking his for a goodbye kiss. He doesn’t let her go so easily, bringing the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel up to cup her face.

“M’gonna be late, Javi,” she utters against his lips, and he grunts softly before reluctantly letting her go.

Kissing her is all he’s ever wanted to do. The number of times he’s gotten himself off solely by imagining the feel of her mouth on his... And now that he’s been granted the absolute fucking blessing of actually experiencing it, he can’t help but be a little gluttonous. Her taste, her touch, her softness—it’s all so inebriating.

“Fine, nena. I’ll let you go. I’m gonna try to show up for you Friday, but with everything we got going on, I dunno if I’ll make it.”

She almost asks for an update, which she had meant to do over her break until they got preoccupied, but decides against it. Her finger traces the tip of his bushy eyebrow. “No worries, handsome. I get you all to myself on Saturday.”

They both sport matching smiles before she reaches for the handle and pushes the door open. Paloma pauses for a brief second, a mischievous smile on her face as she hikes her dress up inconspicuously while getting out of the car, giving him a good look at the baby blue lace underwear she’s wearing.

“Guess it ain’t too hot to forgo these. Have a good day, officer.”

His breath catches, desire surging through him. He almost reaches out to pull her back in, to drive back to that alley and spread her out on the backseat with his tongue buried deep inside her, but she slams the door in his face before he can properly react.

He watches her, eyes narrowed behind tinted aviators, as she skips away, teasing him for the second time today.

When she disappears into the building, he leans back in his seat, savoring the lingering taste of her on his lips and the promise of a date. He’s really got to get his shit together.

She very diligently applies her mascara, carefully brushing each lash to avoid any smudges on her face.

Her date with Javier is in less than an hour, and she has no idea what to expect.

Anticipation courses through her veins at finally being able to experience this side of him. Tonight feels like a step towards something promising.

It really seems like he’s putting in genuine effort to prove himself to her. That’s all she wanted, really, was the effort.

Obviously, she never expected him to change overnight, but knowing he’s taking those steps towards redemption is enough to rekindle some of the trust she once had in him.

As she rubs her lips together after applying more of the strawberry honey balm, she thinks of his reaction from earlier in the week. His praise of the sweet flavor makes her skip the lipstick and gloss entirely.

Paloma stands in front of the full-length mirror, contemplating her outfit for the dozenth time in the last hour. Different articles of clothing litter the floor of her room, each one discarded in pursuit of the ‘perfect’ look.

If she could change one thing about herself, it would be the ability to get ready without making such a fucking mess.

She’s nervous. Excited too, but nervous nevertheless. She wants to look effortlessly beautiful, like she hadn’t tried too hard. Javier had told her that a simple sundress would be fine, but she knows that most men are absolutely clueless when it comes to women’s dress codes.

After much deliberation, she settles on a sage green dress that falls just above her knees. It’s modest yet romantic, hugging her curves and accentuating her breasts with its bustier-style top. The color complements her skin tone, and she can’t help but smile at her reflection as she straps on her wedged heels, admiring how they elongate her legs.

As if she hadn’t spent what felt like hours in the bath, shaving, waxing, and plucking until her skin was as smooth as her beloved angel cake. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders and her makeup is light—enhancing her features without being too over the top.

Taking a deep breath, she gives herself a final once-over.

She looks pretty, the illusion of effortless beauty rightfully achieved. Her heart flutters at the thought of him, of the way his brown eyes will light up when he sees her.

Does she have the intention of fucking him tonight? Absolutely, even though part of her feels she should make him suffer just a little longer. But damn, is it difficult— especially if he swoons her any more… and given how much of a casanova he is, that won’t be very hard of him to do.

Then again, anything could happen. They might end up so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even make the first step into falling into bed…

Who is she kidding? They’re both equally insatiable, and if that make out session in his cruiser was any indication of what’s to come, she’ll just let it fucking be.

Realizing that her neck looks a little bare, she rummages through her jewelry box for the perfect accessory. Cursing under her breath when she can’t find it, she spritzes one final dose of her favorite perfume before making her way downstairs in search of her purse. She’s certain her necklace is in there.

She descends the staircase, putting her earrings in, her heels clicking softly on the polished wood.

“Where you goin’ all dressed up?” her father questions from his spot on the couch, a baseball game playing on the television.

“Out for dinner and a movie. You seen my purse?” She paces through the living room with no luck, now disappearing into the kitchen.

Romeo stands with a grunt, muting the TV as he walks over to the hallway between the two open spaces. “S’hanging on the hook by the door… you goin’ alone?”

She passes him as he asks, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of her bag and pulling it off the hook, digging through it until she finds what she’s looking for.

Her delicate cross necklace. She’s had this since she was a little girl, and while she struggles with her faith, the piece of jewelry does hold sentimental value in the same way her mother’s pendant does.

“No. I’m goin’ on a date,” Paloma answers truthfully yet nonchalantly, holding up the necklace to her father. “Mind puttin’ it on?” She turns her back to him, gathering her hair so he’s able to loop it around her neck.

“A date?” The words leave a bitter taste on his tongue, his lips turning downward as he scowls. “With who?” Romeo’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he fastens the clasp, a contrast to his gruff demeanor.

“With a guy. S’usually how these things work.” She has to tread carefully here, not wanting to reveal that she’s actually going out with Javier. That conversation will happen whenever the time is right, as Javi had reassured her, so she considers this as warming him up to it so he isn’t as pissed when he inevitably finds out.

‘Cause he will be upset, but he’ll also get over it. His first reaction to anything has always been anger.

She can feel the weight of his scrutiny, his protective instincts kicking in full force.

“Yeah, but what guy? And how long have you been in cahoots with this prick?” She turns to face him, not hiding the amused look on her face.

“In cahoots,” she repeats, snorting out a laugh. “You are such an old man.”

“Paloma…” he begins, his tone more stern, and she sighs.

“Someone I met at the barbecue after you left. It’s nothin’ serious,” she lies. “S’why I’m goin’ on this date. Seein’ if it’s somethin’ worth pursuin’ or if it’s just a fluke.”

He stares at her for a good, long minute. “Dunno how I feel about lettin’ you go out with some asshole you barely know. And what type of man has his lady drive to him and not come pick her up himself? He scared’a me or somethin’?”

Yes! she wants to shout. Literally any date she’s ever gone out with has been put off by her father. Javier included, which is a little comical to her, but she understands. He can be very intense when he wants to be. Bless his heart.

“Well, he’s not exactly terrified,” she explains, trying to sound casual. “But he respects you, ‘n he knows how much you mean to me. He didn’t want to overstep. I was the one who suggested it.”

Romeo’s eyes narrow, assessing her words. With the revelation of a killer going around romancing the young girls in town and filling their heads with blasphemous ideologies, the last thing he wants to hear is that his daughter is going out with a stranger.

“I don’t like this one bit. Can’t risk somethin’ happenin’ to you ‘cause some asshole ain’t got the guts to face me.”

“Daddy,” she begins, “I understand, I really do. ‘Specially after what happened…” Paloma trails off, insinuating the events of that night. They haven’t talked about it directly, only skirting around the details of when she went in to give her statement.

It’s the signature Leighton pattern— issues left untouched until they boil over in an argument.

It’s not like he had anything new to say, anyways. Just his typical, fatherly spiel that she's heard too many times to count. A dash of sexism thrown in there to drive his point home.

“However,” she straightens her posture, meeting his gaze with determination, “You’ve taught me everythin’ I need to know ‘bout defendin’ myself. I‘ve got the pepper spray ‘n taser you got me right here.” She opens her bag, pulling out the two items for him to see.

Romeo just glares at her, his jaw tight with worry.

“And I’ve got the other set in my car, a baseball bat in the trunk, and the gun in the glovebox. I know how to bust out of zip ties and land a mean uppercut. Break a nose. Go for the family jewels.” She continues, her voice steady. She needs for him to understand that she’s prepared, that she’s taken all his lessons to heart.

Paloma knows she won’t need any of this tonight, considering she’s going to be with Javier. Still, she wants her father to know that he’s taught her well.

“I’ll be home by midnight… if it makes you feel any better, I can call you halfway through to check in.”

She searches his eyes, seeing the conflict there. No matter what he says, she’s going out tonight. That much is certain.

“Fine,” he relents with a firm nod. “But the second anything feels off, sweetheart, you better—”

“I will.” She cuts him off, not needing to hear the rest. She knows. “Now, I don’t wanna run late, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

He watches her leave after she pecks his cheek, his expression apprehensive. He’ll be waiting up for her to get home, porch light on, and probably a drink in hand.

Javier is nervously pacing the weathered porch of his trailer home, fist gripping a bouquet of flowers he picked up at the farmers market. He’d never been there before, but after she mentioned that’s where she got her favorite lip balm, his curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see what else they had, hoping to find something special for their date.

When he spotted the flower stand, he knew he had to pick something out for her. Flowers on a first date is a timeless tradition he must abide by.

Honestly, he’d give her flowers every day just to see the way her eyes light up and the corners of her lips curl into that beautiful smile that gets him every time.

The thing is, though, Javi was so nervous that he started overthinking every little thing. He stood in front of the merchant for what felt like an eternity, not knowing what kind of flowers to get her. Roses were romantic but seemed too predictable. Yet, he knew she’s a hopeless romantic and a sucker for all the cheesy gestures, so those would have been the obvious choice.

But he didn’t want to go for just obvious. He wanted something that would surprise her, something that would show he put thought into this.

He sees the headlights of her car coming down the road and swallows thickly, literally shaking off his nerves. When she’s fully pulled in and parked, he wastes no time walking over to her, opening the door before she even gets to touch the handle.

“There's a valet here? So fancy already. Livin’ like the city folks,” Paloma teases, stepping out of the car, and he swears she’s never looked more beautiful.

The evening light bathes her in a soft, golden glow, highlighting her features in the most enchanting way. His eyes trace every inch of her form with unabashed admiration, lingering on the swell of her tits and the way the dress hugs her figure so perfectly.

Her legs look oh so inviting in the wedges she’s wearing, amplifying his temptation to ravish her before their meal.

“These are for you,” he says before he acts on his carnal impulse, revealing the bouquet from behind his back. Her eyes widen, and a giant grin spreads across her face.

“Javi, oh my god, did you just get every flower?” she laughs, absolutely enamored by the peculiar cluster currently in her arms.

Yeah, he had been so indecisive about what to get her that he just told the merchant to give him a little bit of everything. The florist, already amused by Javier’s indecisiveness, didn’t interject. If anything, he somehow made the clashing colors and patterns look like a beautiful, organized mess.

She loves it. It reflects them so perfectly. Each bloom in the bouquet seemed to tell a story, a perfect reflection of their own blossoming relationship.

Javier watches as she brings the flowers up to her face, inhaling deeply. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, savoring the fragrance, and when she opens them again, there’s a softness in her gaze that makes his heart race.

He takes a mental photo of her like this. So mesmeric. He never wants to forget it.

“Couldn’t decide on which to get, so I thought, why not all of ‘em… you like it?” He’s so adorable when he gets a little shy, a small frown on his face.

She tears her gaze from inspecting the flowers to look at him, and she swears her entire existence is reduced to a puddle on the ground with the look he’s giving her.

“I fuckin’ love it, cowboy. Makes me feel like I’m in my garden.” Her lips spread into a toothy grin. “So sweet. This is perfect.”

This is perfect. Those words alone are enough to put him at ease. He feels a wave of relief wash over him, the anxiety he’d been harboring slowly dissolving into warmth just from three little words.

“Let’s head inside.” He escorts her up the porch, his hand resting on her lower back the entire time, electricity building at the bottom of her spine.

Javier’s place looks different than the last time she was here. Cozier, more lived-in. She notices the additions: some college memorabilia, paintings she recognizes from the thrift store in town, a few family photos.

It’s neat and carries his scent, though she also catches a whiff of what she assumes to be dinner. The flickering candle on the coffee table adds a clean, inviting aroma. Seems like he took her critique of the space lacking personality seriously.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Make yourself at home,” he tells her, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head before walking toward the small kitchen.

“You cooked a meal?” Paloma questions, partially amused since she knows he rarely ever cooks for himself.

She sets her things down on the entryway table, careful not to smush her flowers, then slowly walks around the living room to get a better look at his new decor.

“Somethin’ like that,” Javier responds, a hint of pride in his voice. Earlier in the week, he had called his father, sharing bits about the new relationship he’s pursuing and asking what the fuck to do.

It’s an odd thing, this unaccustomed nervousness about dating. Javier has had his fair share of women, many mere fleeting sexual encounters, but still— flirting and romancing have always come naturally to him. Now, faced with a mundane dinner with Paloma, he finds the usual confidence in his charm faltering ever so slightly.

He feels like he’s doing both too much yet not enough at the same time.

To say Chucho was surprised was an understatement, and he couldn’t help but get in a few jabs about how he knew his son moving up there was going to be good for him.

“See what happens when you actually listen to your old man?”

His father’s teasing and encouragement had pushed him to step out of his comfort zone and actually try to piece together a decent meal. Nothing spectacular, just chicken baked in the oven with some vegetables. He contemplated getting a bottle of wine, but then landed on that damn root beer and cherry drink she likes so much.

As he moves around the small kitchen, he feels those nerves slowly creeping up on him again. He catches a glimpse of her through the doorway, exploring his living room, her presence making the place feel a little bit more like home.

She trails her fingers over the framed photos, pausing at one of him side by side with an older man. Both of them are posed in front of a wooden fence with what looks like horses behind them. They look so similar, no doubt that’s his daddy. If the matching mustaches weren’t an indication, then the large grins they both wear were a dead giveaway.

He looks so charming with a genuine smile on his face. Paloma wants to see it on him all the time, even if she does like her grumpy, pouty Javi.

He’s attempting to share his life with her in these small but significant ways. It’s more than she expected, and it fills her with so much affection.

She takes a peek at his small bookshelf, different novels neatly aligned, but it’s the Italian language learning guide that gets her attention. Her brows furrow in curiosity, plucking it from the shelf and thumbing through it. “You learnin’ Italian?” She asks over her shoulder, reading the note inside.

Sorry these took so long. I translated as much as I could. Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Hopefully this helps.

Clearly a woman’s handwriting, but she knows better than to jump to conclusions.

“Kind of, not really. Needed it for the investigation.” His tone suggests he doesn’t want to elaborate, and she doesn’t press him further, despite her nosiness on wanting to know what aspect of his work required him to know this language specifically.

She thinks of the old man in Louisiana, his cryptic words, outlandish request, then demise. To avoid putting a damper on her mood— she shoves him to the back of her mind and returns the book back to its spot.

Would she ever tell Javier about that night? About how she witnessed a man’s death and then subsequently watched as her ex and his best friend dumped his body into a swamp? Or is it something she’s destined to take to her grave?

She had told August, much like her mother, she would harbor her own secrets now. But with the way things are going with Javier… would she eventually feel comfortable and secure enough to share all that with him?

Paloma wonders if he could handle the weight of it, especially in the context of her mother’s past. A part of her fears that revealing the absurdity of it all might shatter the fragile connection they are re-building.

As she contemplates this, she thinks of the newfound look in Javier’s eyes when he’s with her— tender, understanding, and patient. Could he be the one she finally trusts with everything that weighs heavily on her heart?

The thought is both terrifying and liberating. She imagines his reaction, how his face might contort in shock or, perhaps, how his arms might wrap around her in comfort.

For now, though, she keeps the secrets locked away, buried deep. The path to trust is a slow and winding one.

One step at a time. Just focus on enjoying the night you’ve been looking forward to all summer.

Paloma moves towards the kitchen, watching Javier as he busies himself with pulverizing cherries in a short glass cup. The sight of him so concentrated, fingers stained with the sticky, sweet mess, sends a warm flutter between the apex of her thighs.

“Need any help?” she offers, sidling up to him and eyeing the chaotic counter now faintly stained in red.

He turns to look at her, “No, I got this,” a stubborn reply, from a stubborn man, to a stubborn woman.

She snorts out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Them cherries sure look muddled. Jeez, what’d they do to you?”

“I might have gone a little overboard.”

“Ya think?”

His lips quirk up into a smile, and he brings two of his fingers up to his mouth to suck the sugary syrup off, his gaze not leaving hers.

“Tastes good, wanna try, princesa?” he asks, tone smug and full of himself. It’s so hot.

She nods, speechless, and he dips his fingers into the jar, coating them before bringing them up to her parted lips. His eyes darken, trained on the movement of Paloma’s tongue as she kitten-licks his fingers before taking them into her mouth. Now she doesn’t break eye contact, sucking slowly until she lets go with a wet pop.

“Fuck me.” He mutters, mind completely clouded by her.

“Feed me first,” with a wink she pulls back, and he rolls his tongue over his teeth.

“Tryin’ to.”

And so, Javier goes through all the motions, pulling the chair out for her to sit in as he plates everything and brings it out to her. The table is arranged with an assortment of candles of different shapes and sizes, more flowers strewn about. It looks charmingly cute and a little quirky, which only makes her like it even more.

She sips from her drink, the tiny bubbles sparkling against her tongue, eyes shamelessly tracing over his built figure as he moves around the room.

One thing she’s always loved about Javier is how he isn’t afraid to wear some color. Tonight is no different. A muted purple top hugs his upper half, paired with dark jeans and boots. The first few buttons are undone, because of course. That’s just part of the outfit at this point.

The shirt looks so good against his brown skin, his collarbones defined and his neck thick. She’s starting to understand why he likes biting so much.

He flicks off the light, leaving them only in the warm glow of the candles and the single lamp in the living room. Sitting across from her, his eyes drink in every detail of her angelic face, accentuated by the flickering candlelight.

“You really cozied the place up. All for me?” she jokes, looking over at him with adoration in her eyes.

“I wanted to make it special,” he replies sincerely, even though he knows she’s just teasing. “You deserve that. You deserve a whole lot more.”

Her heart swells at his words. “I’m likin’ what m’gettin’ so far.”

Everything feels right in this moment. They know they still have things to work through, but right now, they’re exactly where they want to be—surrounded by the quiet comfort of their shared affection.

“If dinner is shit, I’ve got a pizza delivery guy on standby.”

Paloma laughs, shaking her head as she picks up her fork. “Hopefully we don’t have to resort to that, even though I do love a good pepperoni pizza.”

She takes a forkful of the meal he’s prepared, bringing it to her mouth and chewing slowly. Javi watches her intently, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Well?”

“It’s really good.”

His eyes narrow slightly, not entirely convinced. “You’re fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m not!” she insists, bringing a hand to cover her mouth as she talks. To prove her point, she eats another forkful. “Delicious. Compliments to the chef.”

He snorts, taking a bite himself. Not half bad, but he feels like he can improve. “Next time, it’ll be better.”

“Next time?” Her brows raise as she reaches for her cup. “Already plannin’ date number two?”

“Dunno if you’re aware of this, preciosa, but I’m not lettin’ you go anytime soon.”

They share a loving look, her eyes filled with nothing but fondness and want, his with a restless need to please and satisfy her. Sexually, romantically, platonically— all of it.

The conversation flows easily after that, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses and scraping against plates. She catches him looking at her with an expression that makes her heart skip a beat.

Javier tells her about his father after she asks about the picture on his mantel. As he speaks, she can see the deep respect and admiration he holds for the older man. His eyes soften, voice filled with warmth, revealing just how much his dad means to him.

She wonders if she’ll ever meet this illustrious Chucho Peña. Would he like her? Would he think she’s a good fit for his son? Would he eagerly share embarrassing stories about the hardened ex-DEA agent? Maybe even show her adorable pictures of Javi from his childhood, painting a different, more tender side of the man she’s come to care for so deeply.

He doesn’t mention his mother, and she doesn’t ask. It seems they both share a reluctance to delve into the matriarchs of their families, a mutual understanding that some things are best left unspoken, at least for now.

“Heard about the press conference…” she sees an opening to ask about it in the brief pause that had taken over as they finished dinner.

Javier lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair with a beer bottle in his hand. “Yeah. Goin’ live on Monday. Your dad’s leading it. I’m just there to discuss the other aspect of it.”

Her brows furrow. “Other aspect?”

“The ‘scary religious’ stuff. Got a lot of information from a professor in California that helped us out. She sent me all that shit in there.” He takes a swig of his drink, nodding towards the boxes stacked up in the living room. That explains the Italian guide and the feminine handwriting.

“How… how is she?” Paloma asks about the girl, her voice quieter but filled with concern.

“Stable,” he licks his lips, “Lots of internal bleeding, real bad concussion. Doctors are saying she might not remember everything clearly for a few weeks after she wakes up. The medicine she’s on is only going to make that worse, so who knows if we’ll have anything concrete enough to go on.”

Javier doesn’t want to burden her with work talk, and he doesn’t want to entertain it either since he’s around it all the time, but he recognizes her genuine concern.

She swallows thickly at the update. This is exactly like something out of those true crime segments the news shows late at night. She’s not that surprised, though, considering the girl was on the brink of death when she found her. “That’s terrible. What’s her name? Who is she?”

“We don’t have one. No I.D. on her and she’s been unconscious since they brought her in. We’ve called around trying to see if she matched any missing persons reports with shit luck.”

Paloma’s heart twists. It’s bad enough to be beaten within an inch of your life, but to be unidentified afterward? To not have the comforting presence of a family member or friend by your side while your body recovers and your brain struggles to keep you alive?

She considers the idea of visiting, maybe bringing some flowers so when she wakes up, she isn’t greeted by the sterile, stuffy smell of the hospital.

“Well, hopefully she recovers soon.” Paloma takes another sip of her drink, chewing on some of the cherries at the bottom.

“Gotta take it in strides,” he grumbles, pushing his chair back to stand and beginning to collect their dirtied dishes.

“Oh, I can—” She starts to rise, but he stops her with a wave of his hand.

“Nu uh, quédate quieta (stay still), muñeca. I got this. How ‘bout you go freshen up and meet me in the backyard when you’re done?” The way he speaks to her with that affectionate yet stern tone makes it impossible for her to refuse.

“Mm, fine. What’s in the backyard?”

“You’ll see. Bathroom’s down the hall.”

Paloma complies, grabbing her purse from the entryway. She applies more lip balm, quickly brushes through her hair, and adds a touch of blush. Staring at her reflection, there’s a radiant smile on her face, her heart content and stomach fluttering.

She joins him outside, where he’s already puffing on a cigarette, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. “Una noche, Javi. Just one without the nicotine,” she slides the door close behind her and steps over to the railing he leans against.

“No can do, cariño. I’m afraid I’m addicted,” Javier replies, blowing the smoke away from her face. His dark eyes check her out, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he taps off some of the ash. “You look real pretty tonight. That color looks good on you.”

She blushes, thanking him softly and biting her lip, looking away to control the loud thudding in her chest. God, why is it that the simplest compliments are the ones that leave her the most hot and bothered?

“Am I supposed to watch ya smoke all night, or is there a reason we’re out here?” she questions, tilting her head up to look at him as he finishes off the cigarette, flicking it over the railing.

“There’s a reason we’re out here.” He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a stick of gum, unwrapping it then popping it into his mouth, “C’mon.”

Javier takes her hand in his, the warmth and size difference so comforting that she can’t help but squeeze gently as he pulls her off the small porch. Grabbing a flashlight on the way down, he flicks it on to illuminate their path.

The moon is out tonight, but not in her full glory, a crescent shape accompanied by twinkling stars scattered across the night sky.

Paloma notices his truck parked right in the middle of the grassy yard, another object standing beside it but she can’t make out what it is.

“Had I known we were gonna be outside, I woulda skipped out on the heels.” Wobbling as she steps on a rock and almost injures herself, he steadies her with his strong hold, bringing her closer into his side. She gets a good smell of him—smoke, mint, cologne, and just pure, delicious Javier.

“I got you, bebita. Would’ve been a real shame for you not to wear those. Make your legs look so sexy.” That last part is muttered into her ear and her pussy clenches around nothing because of it.

They reach his truck, where two small lanterns are already glowing softly, casting a cool light over the small area. The bed is transformed into a cozy nest, filled with blankets and pillows.

“Wow,” she breathes out, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight. It’s then that she notices the unidentified object standing beside the vehicle. “Is that a telescope?” she asks, moving closer to inspect it.

“Sure is. Called in a favor to the high school,” Javier replies, walking over to retrieve the book he checked out from the library and a map he’d drawn up during his time between the station and working from home.

“What’s it for?” she asks, curiosity piqued.

“Stargazing,” he replies, spreading everything out against the lowered tailgate so he can get a better read of it.

Her brows shoot up in surprise, and she turns on her heel to face him. “Stargazing?” She sees the materials in his possession and can’t help but smile.

“Yeah. Said I’d learn a thing or two for you.”

“And what thing or two did you learn?” Paloma is beyond intrigued, inching closer to him. She sees the various colored tabs poking out from the book, different pages he’s marked as significant. She recognizes his handwriting on the map and, after a little more observation, figures out what it is.

“Did you make a constellation map?” She gasps, bringing her fingers to trace over the precisely drawn lines.

Her reaction is enough to calm his apprehension and he nods, confirming it for her. “Didn’t ever think I’d turn to astronomy for a hobby, but here we are. Esta mierda realmente es interesante.” (This shit is actually interesting)

He works the gum in his mouth, and she’s absolutely smitten. Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist. “We’re right on time, too.” He opens the book to the page he’s memorized by now, passing it over to her and pointing at a cluster of stars. “That’s the first one we’re lookin’ for.”

Her big, brown eyes stare at the photo, and she nods gently. “Okay… what is it?”

“I’ll tell you once we find it.”

They migrate over to the telescope, and he bends slightly to get level with the eyepiece, closing one eye as his fingers adjust the knob to put the glass into focus. She watches him intently, falling more in love with him the longer they’re together.

Because that’s what this is. Love. She knows it, has known it for a long time, even if she didn’t want to admit it. It’s not just a crush or infatuation. She harbors real, fervent emotions for the man before her.

Javier’s lips pull into a large smile once he’s got the constellation in perfect view. “Alright, princesa, come take a look.” He pulls away and motions her to him, she eagerly sidles up to him again.

“Tilt it a little bit north and you’ll see it.” She does as instructed, even though he distracts her with how he’s pressed up behind her, his hands resting on her waist and stroking gently.

The cluster of stars looks so cool, matching the photo he’d shown her to a T.

“¿Qué es, Javi?” she whispers, wishing she could capture the moment on a camera for herself.

Just as she had been watching him before, he watches her now. Her hair falls perfectly over her shoulders, her mouth slightly parted in astonishment. He’d pluck every star from the sky and gift them to her if it meant staying in this picturesque moment forever.

“Columba,” the technical name rolls off his tongue easily, “better known as the dove constellation.”

She pulls back quickly, whipping her head around to face him.

“Thought it was fitting. Just for my little palomita.”

The world stops, it really does, as the gesture fully sinks in, embedding itself in her heart.

She can’t help but think of how this moment parallels that of August’s. How on their first date he had revealed her bloodline connections to something so divine. How he convinced her that she was magic. A savior.

Here, with Javier drawing up maps of the stars and pinpointing ones that remind him of her, she feels much more cherished and special than she ever did with the reality of her mother’s past and the lineage she comes from.

She turns in his embrace, standing on the tips of her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. He hums as he tastes her lip balm, savoring the sweet flavor. “This is so romantic, Javi. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“Me either, if we’re being honest,” he replies earnestly, his smile unwavering.

They continue their stargazing, with him pointing out other constellations they’re able to see. He even indulges in the little research he’d done about the stories attached to each arrangement. Paloma is absolutely charmed, hanging on to everything he says, excitedly stepping up to the telescope and hunting down the constellations under his guidance.

Now in the bed of his truck, she lays with her head against his chest. The rhythmic pumping of his heart eases her into a serene calmness as they glance up at the sky. Javier gently strokes her hair.

The night embraces the summer sounds of the south: cicadas murmur in the warm air, frogs croak softly in harmony, and fireflies dance with their gentle, glowing lights. Leaves rustle in the subtle breeze while a distant owl’s call adds a haunting touch to the tranquil scene.

He’s never felt this at peace, not with Lorraine, not with Helena. Not with anyone ever. He never thought he’d enjoy the simplicity of a relationship. But here, with her in his arms, he finds himself rethinking that entirely.

She’s perfectly tucked into his side, as gratified as he is. All he wants to do now is take care of her, meet her every need, grant her every wish and more. Gone are the days of pretending this isn’t what he wants, even though part of him still feels like he doesn’t deserve her.

“Guess I can call ya a space cowboy now,” Paloma teases with a gentle laugh, her nose scrunching in that adorable manner he loves to see each time.

“Space cowboy. It’s got a nice ring to it.” His fingers stroke the exposed skin of her arm, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

“Maybe I should get you a sparkly hat and some boots to complete the look,” she jokes.

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “Only if you promise to be my space cowgirl.”

“Deal,” her smile widens as she snuggles closer to him.

After a few more moments, Paloma lifts her head slightly, planting a soft kiss on his jawline. “Y’know, I think we’re writin’ our own story up there with the stars tonight.”

Javier smiles, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reaches his eyes. “Yeah? Shit— It’s one hell of a story.”

She shifts to straddle him and he doesn’t complain, letting her soft thighs rest on either side of his waist. Large hands move to settle on her hips, the skirt of her dress hiking up some and he lets his thumb run along her smooth skin.

“So what happens now, space cowboy?” she purrs, voice dripping with suggestion. Her manicured nails dig into his broad shoulders, and he doesn’t miss the way she subtly grinds down on his lap.

“You tell me, nena. Anything you want.” Javier’s cock stirs, not just from her movements but from the sheer, overwhelming need he feels for her.

He’s shown so much restraint, carefully paving over the rocky road of their relationship. But now, the sexual tension between them is stretched taut and ready to snap.

He feels a primal, insatiable hunger taking over him, reminiscent of the lover he was in Colombia.

“Anything?” The loving glint in her eyes is now replaced by a rousing, lustful spark.

“Lo que quieras.” (Whatever you want) His voice drops to a husk, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

She leans in, pressing her lips to his in an impassioned exchange. Her nails dig deeper into his broad shoulders as his hands get bolder, moving around to cup her ass, pulling her closer. It’s a repeat of what happened in his cruiser, but this time, there’s nothing holding either of them back from going all the way.

Paloma is more deliberate with the swivel of her hips now, fully grinding down on him. He drinks in her pretty moans as they fall from her lips, sucking on her bottom lip then running his tongue over her teeth, kissing her with a lewd hunger.

“Want you to touch me, Javi,” she whispers, forehead resting against his. Her fingers move from his shoulders up to the back of his neck until they’re intertwined in his soft, brown curls.

“¿Donde, bebita? Tell me where you want me to touch you.”

They’re all pants and heavy breaths as his lips trail down her jaw to her neck. She struggles to form a coherent thought, overwhelmed by the sensations he’s stirring within her.

“My— oh shit,” Paloma whines as he licks up from her neck to her ear, gently biting down on the lobe. She shivers at the contact, her body curving into his touch.

“Here?” he teases, his breath hot against her skin. His hands roam her body, mapping every curve and dip like he had with the works of art in the sky.

“Everywhere,” her voice trembles with need. “I want you everywhere but m-my pussy, Javi, please touch my pussy.”

Her words shoot straight to his cock, now fully hard beneath the denim. He pulls back slightly to meet her gaze, and despite the wanton passion flowing through both of them, he wants to make sure that she’s okay with going further.

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure in my life.”

That’s all he needs before he’s on her again in a complete frenzy, lips crashing against hers while one hand fists her dress. He realizes she’s not wearing anything underneath and lets out a guttural groan.

“Naughty fucking girl. Knew what you were coming over to get,” he growls.

Her giggle gets lost in her throat when she feels his thick fingers hovering over her clit. She’s so wet, her sticky arousal steadily building over the night, absolutely coating her folds and parts of her inner thigh.

“Dime otra vez lo que quieres. Tell me how bad you fucking want it, palomita,” Javier commands, his breath fanning over her ear.

“N-Need your fingers. Been dreamin’ about ‘em for so long,” she confesses, dripping with desperation. She feels even more of her slick seep out at the warmth emitted from his hovering digits.

“That so?” He cocks his head to the side, enjoying how much of a mess she is over him. Right as she’s getting ready to quip back, Javier presses his middle and index fingers against her sensitive clit, and her hips jerk to chase more of the contact.

“Ohhh…” she whines out, her head falling back as he begins to rub tight circles against her engorged flesh.

“Goddamn baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs, his mouth watering at the feel of her. Javi has a deep affinity for eating pussy, one of the many golden traits he possesses, and he so badly wants to have her straddle his face and do just that.

But he also wants to drag this out, enjoy her in the way he hadn’t the first time they fucked. His fingers work their magic, sliding through her slick folds, teasing her entrance before pushing in slowly, groaning at how she clenches around them.

She yelps at the stretch, but fuck, does it feel amazing. “Fuuuuck, Javi… just like that,” she moans, her hips moving in time with his thrusting fingers. He’s knuckle deep, setting a steady rhythm while his thumb flicks over her clit.

His lips return to her neck, sucking softly yet being mindful of not leaving any marks. Yet. His other hand is on her chest, pulling down the fabric that covers her breasts so that he can feel the warm skin of her tit, how tight her nipple is against his clammy palm.

“Look so pretty like this.” Javi groans against her neck, curling his fingers inside her, finding that sweet spot that makes her cry, her thighs tensing and nails digging into his scalp.

The sound of her squelching pussy is obscene, echoing ever so softly into the night, her pants and his grunts mingling together. “Just like that baby, please keep goin’. F-Feels so good.” His fingers are much thicker and longer than hers, his touch a testament to his skill.

“Can’t wait to taste you. Just know you’re sweet.” He kisses down her neck until he’s got his pouty lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and grazing it lightly with his teeth.

Paloma shivers at the feeling, beginning to bounce on his fingers, encouraging him to go faster as she feels her orgasm slowly building at the pit of her stomach.

The truck rocks slightly with their movements, faint noises of metal and rubber creaking with how she rides his hand.

Javier senses her urgency, scissoring his fingers inside her cunt and curling them again. His tongue outlines her puffy areola and she whines out.

“Y-Yes, oh god, yes fuck, I’m gonna come.” Her eyes squeeze shut and he groans against her chest, pulling away to look at her, leaving the pebbled flesh coated in his saliva.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Fuck yourself on my fingers.” Blunt nails dig into the skin of her ass, giving her a spank, and the sting from it has her free-falling.

She grinds down onto his sinewy fingers, her grip strong as cum gushes out of her, coating them entirely. Her orgasm rips through her with an intensity that has her tasting colors.

She sobs his name out, and he revels in it, in her and how beautiful she looks falling apart for him.

He can’t wait to get her naked and spread out on his bed.

She goes limp, falling into his chest with his fingers still inside her. Her face is in the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses against the skin that glistens with a sheen of sweat.

“That was fuckin’ amazin’.” She licks at the salty skin, humming at the taste, and he grumbles something she can’t quite make out.

“Been dreaming about it for so long, huh?” Javi teases, finally slipping his fingers out, her slick dripping down his knuckles.

“Like you haven’t dreamt about me.”

“Oh, plenty of times, baby.” Much like the mess from the cherries earlier, Javier brings his fingers up to his mouth and cleans them from the taste of her. It’s heady and delicious.

“Mmm, sabes rica, nena.” (You taste delicious, baby)

She smirks against his neck, still kissing and licking, hips once more moving against his lap, the denim chafing her in the best way possible.

Paloma’s lips trail up until they’re at his ear, and she whispers, “You gonna be a gentleman and take me to bed or are you going to fuck me right here?”

Javier grunts, smacking her ass again, and she giggles sharply. “If I get you in bed, I might not ever let you leave.”

“Don’t tempt a girl with a good time.”

With a cocky smile, he readjusts her dress and tilts her chin to meet his stare. They lock eyes before diving into another heated kiss. “Wrap your legs around me tight,” he murmurs against her lips.

She eagerly complies, her legs locking around his waist. He scoots towards the edge of the lowered tailgate, lifting her effortlessly. As he steps off the bed of the truck entirely, she clings to him, her arms around his neck, body pressed firmly against his.

Each step towards his trailer home is filled with a sense of urgency, their bodies already buzzing with anticipation. She can feel his cock pressed against her, a tangible promise of what’s to come. She squirms, nipping at his neck, inhaling his scent which further turns her on.

Javier slides the door open, not giving a damn about the setup left behind. He’ll worry about that later. Right now, he’s got more pressing things to handle.

The moment they’re inside, it’s like something out of a movie with how they’re on each other. Eager kisses, impatient touches, hands roaming with desperate urgency. He sets her down and she’s quick to start unbuttoning his shirt, their steps stumbling in the direction of his bedroom.

She almost trips on her heels and he grabs at her waist to keep her from falling. “So fucking clumsy all the time,” he says under his breath, letting her slide the shirt off his shoulders and onto the hallway floor.

“Easy ‘fore I leave you here with a hard cock ‘n the taste of me in your mouth,” she teases with bated breath.

He scoffs, kicking off his shoes once they’re in the room. She tugs at his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from the loops of his jeans. “You wouldn’t do that, muñeca. You want this as bad as I do.”

And he’s right—she does. With each article of clothing that gets discarded, each inch of skin that gets revealed, her desire for him grows more and more… if that’s even possible. Paloma doesn’t think she’s ever been this needy to get fucked before.

Javier stops her from unbuttoning his jeans, taking a step back, leaving her momentarily confused. But then he drops to his knees right in front of her.

“What are you—” Her words are cut off as he bunches up her dress to her waist, bringing one of her thighs to rest over his shoulder. With no warning, he dives into her pussy.

“Oh my god!” she gasps.

His tongue is wicked, exploring every crevice of her, the tip drawing figure eights over her clit. It’s all happening so fast, she doesn’t even know how to react. He sucks the bundle of nerves harshly into his mouth, and she screams out his name.

Rising from his spot, he pulls the dress off her on his way up. “Couldn’t help myself,” and he’s got an arrogant grin on his sinful face.

“And you say I’m impatient.”

One, two, three steps until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and he gently pushes her until her back is against the soft sheets. She looks up at him with those brown, smoldering eyes, basically telling him to take her.

Javier stands still for a moment, gaze raking over her naked figure, drinking her in. His fingers move to his jeans, slowly undoing the button, the zipper following suit, anticipation building with every second.

The room is dark, barely any moonlight casting in from the windows, yet her body is glowing as she’s sprawled out on his bed. Although this isn’t their first time being intimate, it is the first time he’s seen her entirely naked.

And damn, if she isn’t a beautiful fucking sight.

Dark hair fanned out against the white pillows. Her tits nice and full, practically begging for his attention. The golden cross pendant that sits between her collarbones somehow makes her look more erotic.

The curve of her waist and the plumpness of her thighs beckon him to leave his mark all over the supple skin. She’s still got her wedges on, elongating her legs and highlighting her calves.

This is why he loves women so much— their accessories, their clothes, their shoes, their femininity. It’s such a turn on for him.

Paloma’s skin ignites under his stare, and she would feel more self conscious if she wasn’t so keenly aware of how fucking badly he wants her.

He flicks on the small lamp on the nightstand, further illuminating the room and her.

Ogling his exposed chest and how toned he is, her finger comes up to beckon him to join her on the bed.

“Igualita a un ángel (just like an angel),” honeyed words drip from his lips, having her blush as he crawls over her, still in his jeans, voice full of reverence.

One of her legs hooks around his waist, bringing him closer. His hand traces her hip, moving slowly to cup her breast. He thumbs her nipple, watching as it hardens under his touch, eliciting a soft moan from her. He leans down, capturing the other nipple in his mouth, suckling and nibbling gently.

She whimpers, arching into him, her hands all over his back, feeling the flex of muscles under her fingertips.

His hands are everywhere, exploring, teasing, worshiping her body. Paloma’s breath hitches as his fingers then dip lower until they’re at her mound, softly tracing his fucking initial against the skin.

His descent down her torso is paired with sensual movements of his lips, tongue flicking out to taste her skin until he’s at the scar on her hip. He peppers kisses along the marking and she shudders, her stomach doing flips at the sensation.

Then he goes lower and she exhales shakily once he reaches the apex of her thighs, placing wet kisses along the inside of them.

“Javi,” she moans, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He smirks, moving with deliberate slowness, teasing her until she’s trembling.

“Just relax, preciosa,” he murmurs, his breath hot against her core. “I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

“Wait… let me take my shoes off,” she squirms in his hold, trying to reach for her heels.

He stops her by placing his palm firmly over her pelvis. “Nah, baby, keep ‘em on.”

She stares down at him, catching that glint in his eye, and who is she to fight him on something as trivial as this? So she lets it be, sinking back into the pillows, her body relaxing as he resumes his ministrations.

Javier’s lips leave a scorching trail on her, kissing and nipping at her thighs, the feeling of his mustache brushing against the tender skin has jolts of pleasure striking her.

His roughness contrasts with her softness, creating a thrilling friction that makes her breath hitch in her throat. She whimpers softly, fingers away from his hair and clutching the sheets as he makes his way back to her core.

Using both of his thumbs, Javier spreads her folds apart and it’s like a flower blossoming— her clit throbbing, pink skin glistening with her juices. He licks his lips, cursing in Spanish, his tongue flattening and running up the length of her sex, curling when it gets to her sensitive pearl.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head in pure bliss as he repeats the action a few more times, her arousal mixing with his saliva and dripping down his chin, down to her ass.

Javier fucking loves going down on his girls. Nothing, not even the actual fucking, compares to it. To be buried in that warm, wet, soft space between a woman’s thighs, hearing her whimper out his name while he coaxes out pleasure that most aren’t accustomed to, is just something he thoroughly enjoys.

He might be a giant fucking dick everywhere else, but in bed, he tends to show some gentlemanly manners.

His tongue works her with expert precision, alternating between broad strokes and meticulous licks. He keeps her spread open, teasing her entrance before dragging the wet muscle over her labia and up to her clit in one seamless motion.

Paloma has never felt pleasure like this. Not with George, not with August, not with anyone. Javier is eating her out so filthily, it puts even the most seasoned pornstars to shame.

He basks in the feeling of her nails returning to his scalp, fingers yanking at his hair as he continues his relentless assault. Her thighs squeeze around his head so tightly, he has to pry them back open, desperate to keep devouring her until she’s a quivering, moaning mess beneath him.

“Quedate abierta, nena (stay open, baby) or else I’m going to stop,” Javier growls, an empty threat but the vibration of his voice against her sensitive flesh sends shockwaves through her. Her hips tilt up instinctively, pressing him further into her cunt.

He is absolutely pussy drunk. It’s hard not to be when she tastes so divine, smells so intoxicating, and reacts to him so fucking sweetly.

It’s here, between her legs, that he truly apologizes to her. Each stroke of his tongue is an expression of regret for all the hurt and bullshit he put her through. His remorse is palpable in every lick, every suck, as he pours his soul into devoting himself to her.

And she can feel it. God, can she feel the way he shifts from languid kitten licks to full-on making out with her pussy. Just like the orgasm from before, this one builds quickly, mirroring dark clouds rolling in before a severe thunderstorm. Her moans crescendo, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her.

Javier buries himself further into her heat, his tongue moving faster, his lips wrapping around her clit and sucking hard. She’s teetering on the edge, every nerve ending on fire, her vision blurring as she’s consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

Her thighs tremble, the pressure mounting to an almost unbearable peak. “Oh, Javi… I’m gonna…” she manages to gasp out, her fingers gripping his hair tightly. He responds by doubling his efforts, hands pushing her thighs to her chest firmly to keep her steady and spread.

“Come for me, palomita,” a dark, seductive command that does her over. His aquiline nose brushes her clit, his tongue moving in perfect strokes, in and out of her.

She shatters, her back bends off the mattress as her orgasm zaps through her like a fucking lightning bolt. Paloma’s cries of pleasure fill the room, thighs squeezing around his head again as she rides out the waves of ecstasy.

Javier doesn’t let up, drinking up every drop that floods from her tight hole, tongue buried deep inside her cunt to lick as much of it as possible, and she has to roughly tug on his hair to get him to pull up when the overstimulation gets to be too much.

“Did so good, baby.” He praises. When he lifts his head, his mustache and chin are shining with the evidence of her essence, a long ribbon of slick trailing from his bottom lip, connecting her to him.

It’s the hottest thing Paloma’s ever seen, well, barely seen since her vision is misty with tears from how good he just made her feel.

“You taste even better when I’m fucking you with my tongue,” Javi whispers, his voice a low, sexy rumble.

He proceeds to remove her heels, kissing her ankle once he’s got the strap undone and the shoe off, repeating the action on her other foot.

All she does is lay there, still trying to catch her breath, her body reeling with aftershocks. He hovers over her, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, letting her taste herself on his mouth.

The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unrestrained desire between them, makes her head spin.

“Mmm, my turn.” Her breath is ragged, heart racing, but she manages a fucked-out smile, her hands running over his chest, his stomach, then down to his unbuttoned jeans where his cock is almost painfully straining against the rough fabric.

“Not tonight baby, I need fuck you.”

Her heart skips a beat but she nods eagerly. Truth be told, she’s never gone down on a guy before, but after his little show down there, she’s eager to return the favor, to have him teach her how to please him.

She’ll bring that up another time.

Javier is fully naked now, his cock heavy and smearing her lower tummy with precum. He reaches over to grab a condom from the nightstand, but she stops him by wrapping her dainty hand around his wrist.

“You been with anyone?” She asks, flashes of Sloane crossing her mind, and her face twitches as she holds back a scowl.

He looks at her with a bewildered look. “Absolutely not,” he pauses, “You?” While she’d told him that things between her and August were over, the idea of her going back to him one last time nags at him from the back of his mind, and his jaw tenses.

“No.” She brushes back some of the hair that’s fallen forward, getting a good look into his golden eyes, their shine undimmed by the shadows of lust. “Don’t put the condom on.”

Goddamn, he really doesn’t deserve her. “Are you sure, querida?” he traces his fingers along her cheek.

She nods, her breath staggered from his touch, digits still brushing his hair back. “I’m sure. I want to feel you. All of you.”

With a growl of approval, Javier resists the urge to thrust his cock into her in one swift motion. He turns his head to kiss her wrist, then shuffles on the bed until they’re both on their sides, her back pressed flush against his chest.

Open-mouthed kisses trace along her neck and shoulder, her perfume and natural scent an aphrodisiac that gets him so high.

Javi’s hand grips her thigh then lifts her leg. “Hold it there, baby,” he instructs, and she complies, keeping her leg up as he strokes his cock a few times, gripping it at the base before slowly sliding it between her puffy folds, her seam drooling with her cum and his spit from going down on her.

They both shudder as his bulbous head nudges her swollen clit. He slaps it against her sex a few times, causing her to jerk her hips.

He laughs lowly behind her, and she can’t help but do the same, turning her head so their lips meet.

Using his kisses as a distraction, Javier slowly sinks into her tight heat. They pull apart, just barely, sighing into each other’s mouths as her walls pulsate around him, both of her previous orgasms having left her cunt wet and ready to take him entirely.

“Puta madre, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. The hand that was on his dick now moves up to grab the inside of her knee, keeping her leg in the air as he bottoms out entirely.

The sensation of being so fully connected, his cock filling her completely, is overwhelming. He’s definitely the biggest she’s been with, that much is apparent by the slight burn of him breaking her sweet cunt open with his girth.

He pauses, savoring the feeling, his lips still pressed against her neck, sinking his teeth into her tendon.

“Move, Javi,” she coos after a moment of getting used to the feeling of him, her voice a mix of plea and demand.

“So fuckin’ impatient,” with a groan, he begins to fuck her slowly, letting her savor every inch of him, friction building with each snap of his hips.

He holds her firmly as he sets a vigorous pace, the sounds of their bodies meeting, skin smacking against skin, moans and gasps and filthy words echo obscenely.

Her free hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His lips find her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. “I bet it didn’t feel like this with that boy of yours,” he utters, timbre rough and thrusts brutal. “Did it?”

His jealous words ignite something in her, and she pushes back against him, meeting his hips with equal fervor. The angle allows him to hit deeper, each stroke driving her mad. “About as good as it felt with that bitch.”

His fingers lace with hers on the arm slipped beneath her head, which is resting on his bicep as he pounds into her cunt– having her yelp out from prodding her cervix. She’s pleasantly surprised, expecting for it to hurt, but instead it’s just pleasurable feeling him touch parts of her no other man has.

Paloma’s tummy juts as he pumps into her, a visual of his big cock fucking her. Her tits bounce with each movement, his response a throaty growl and change of pace. “Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy, nena. Fucked up by givin’ it to me. S’the only thing that’s gonna keep me going, now.”

She can’t help but smirk, reveling in his obsession with her and her body. “If it feels like this every time— ohhh shit,” she moans when he hits that one spot that has her vision spotting, “then you can have it whenever you want, baby.”

Javier chuckles darkly. She should really be careful with the things she tells him because he will take her at a moment’s notice.

“Need you to come all over me. Show me how good I’m fucking you.” The intensity of his thrusts, combined with the sensation of him stretching her and his heavy balls slapping against her sticky clit, sends her spiraling into her third orgasm of the night. Her body writhes, walls fluttering around his cock and he tightens his hold on her.

Paloma’s mouth falls open in a silent scream, overwhelmed and feeling like her soul has left her body. She shakes and spasms, unable to control how she reacts to him. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Don’t get all shy on me now.”

His words are like a trigger, and she begins to babble incoherently, whines and moans pushing past her pretty lips, his name a repeated mantra as she sings for him. Javi, Javi, Javiiiii.

“That’s right, good girl. Takin’ this dick just like I knew you would.”

Feeling her pussy convulse, Javier loses himself entirely. Thrusts become erratic, his own grip on her leg surely leaving marks as he reaches the peak of his climax.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want it?” He needs her to tell him before he’s fucking his spend into her, filling her up and possessively claiming her cunt as his.

Her head whirls, blood roaring in her ears, and it’s a miracle she can even hear him with how intense everything feels. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “I-Inside. I’m on birth control,” Paloma slurs her words, squeezing their interlocked fingers, tilting her head to bite into his bicep, lazily moving her hips to get him to come.

With a final, harsh thrust, he spills inside her, cock throbbing and groaning her name while thick ribbons of his cum paint her fleshy walls.

They stay intertwined, both panting and spent, length still buried inside her. Javier presses soft kisses along her shoulder and neck, murmuring sweet nothings as they come down from their high.

She moves to capture his lips in a tender display of affection, their earlier urgency now replaced with a gentle intimacy. “Much better than the first time,” she whispers, his forehead resting against hers.

“It only goes up from here. Literally.” he jokes with a sensual roll of his hips and she hisses from the already there soreness.

Javi lowers her leg then, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her hip. “You were amazing.”

She smiles, feeling utterly satisfied wrapped in his arms. “It takes two to tango, baby.” The name of endearment clutches at his chest and he goes in to kiss her lazily, moving his hand up to wrap around her throat lightly, holding her in place while his tongue slips into her mouth.

She hums in content, still tasting herself on his lips, the smell of sex clinging to his mustache. “What time is it?”

He huffs, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Does it really matter?”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “Si, Javi, I told daddy I’d be back by midnight.”

With another amused huff, he leans over to glance at his alarm clock. “It’s five past eleven.”

“I should probably get up ‘n try not to look like I just got fucked stupid.” He chuckles and she smiles faintly, but neither of them make the first move to disconnect. Even as their mixed cum starts to drip out of her and down his softened dick.

“You could just stay the night,” he suggests, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Tell him you’re with Tammy or something.”

“Mmm, as tempting as that is we got mass in the mornin’...” Her voice trails off softly, looking over at him. “And I told him I was goin’ out on a date so he’s expectin’ me back tonight.”

Javier frowns and she reaches up to smooth the crease between his brows with her thumb, reading his mind. “Don’t worry. Didn’t say it was with you. Just told him I was goin’ into town for dinner ‘n a movie with a boy I met at the barbecue. He wasn’t too happy ‘bout it at first but he let it be. Like always. S’why I don’t think we should be so worried to tell him ‘bout us.”

He studies her face, blush still lingering on her cheeks, her lips swollen, a warm sparkle in her eyes. “So I’m just a boy?”

Another roll of her eyes followed by a snort, and she’s the one to move first, easing herself off his cock.

He groans softly, gripping her hips and pulling her back towards him.

“Javier,” she warns, a little annoyed by his childish reply.

“It was a joke, querida,” he places another gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I understand how important this is to you. Just give me some time.”

She turns in his arms to face him, her fingers tracing absentmindedly over the warm skin of his pecs. “Okay, fine.”

They stay wrapped up in each other for a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, tender caresses, whispered conversations until she finally convinces him to let her go so she can freshen up.

Javier leans against his headboard, a lit cigarette already between his lips, sheet draped over his lap as he watches her stand from the bed, fully nude.

Paloma begins to walk to the bathroom, bending over to pick up her dress and shoes. His head tilts in appreciation as he whistles lowly at the sight of her round ass and the tantalizing glimpse of her naked, used cunt.

“Pervert,” she teases, looking back at him with a playful grin.

“A beautiful sight, muñeca,” he replies, a naughty twinkle in his brown eyes.

Moments later, she returns, looking a bit more put together, and sits on the edge of the bed where he lies, reaching for the cigarette. He pulls it back teasingly.

“¿Y esto?” (And this?)

“That was the kind of fucking that deserves a cigarette afterward. Come on, baby, let me indulge in your vice a little.”

He hands it over, watching with hooded eyes as she takes a drag, the smoke curling from her mouth and nostrils, making her look fucking sexy.

“Everything you do is so hot. Me vuelves loco, bebita.”

She smirks, leaning in to peck his lips before returning the cigarette to him. “Likewise, cowboy.”

He finishes it off, discarding it in the ashtray before grabbing his jeans, sliding them up his legs once he’s off the bed so that he can walk her out.

“I feel real fuckin’ terrible about having you drive back home this late at night.” He tells her as he leans against the doorframe of the front door, crossing his arms against his bare chest. Thoughts of recent incidents flicker through his mind. The unidentified girl at the hospital, how she’d been plucked from the crowd, beaten, then dumped out in the middle of the woods and left for dead.

He can’t and won’t imagine Paloma being in her place, because that will have him fucking spiraling.

She adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder, bouquet of flowers in hand. “Don’t worry, handsome, s’not that far of a drive.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“Yes sir.” A saccharine smile pulls at her lips and he grunts.

“Don’t start nothing you can’t finish.”

“Then I guess I should get goin’.” She takes a few steps forward, placing a goodbye kiss to his lips.

He holds her waist gently, capturing her lower lip between his teeth in a soft bite as they part. “Drive safe, palomita. Thank you for coming over tonight.”

“I will. Thank you for, well, everythin’,” she blinks slowly, “It was all great… I do see the effort you’re puttin’ in, Javi.” Paloma reassures him and he appreciates it, he really does.

There’s reluctance clear in her eyes and her departure tugs at her heartstrings.

She wants to stay, he wants to keep her here.

With one final peck, she heads to her car. Javier watches as she pulls out and disappears into the night. His heart aches a little, but he feels a sense of fulfillment from how everything played out tonight. Things are finally starting to fall into place.

The whole ride home she reminisces. How can she not? He quite literally rocked her world. If she wasn’t obsessed before, she definitely is now.

She can’t help the way her thighs rub together. How she wishes she could stay the night and have him fuck her until the sun comes up. Her entire being is buzzing with euphoria, on a high that only good lovemaking can bring.

As Paloma eases into the driveway of her house, the headlights cast a soft glow over the front porch, where her father stands, waiting. The sight of him warms her heart, his silhouette outlined against the porch light.

“You enjoy yourself? He treat you right?” Romeo wastes no time, voice gruff and tinged with both curiosity and concern. He takes a slow sip from his cup, eyes lingering on the bouquet of flowers she holds as she steps up to join him.

Paloma feels a gentle flush creep up her neck at the memory of Javier’s touch, her core throbbing from the way he had fucked her. “Definitely,” she murmurs with a shy smile, her words still carrying the lingering sweetness of their evening.

“Now you can quit your stressin’ ‘n get to bed. We got church in the mornin’.”

#javier peña smut #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #pedro pascal smut

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embersofhope-if · 2 years ago

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"On the 25th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it."

Twenty-five years have passed since the rebellion, yet the price is still being paid by the Districts. Even though most people alive today had no part in the fight, they suffer the consequences of the Capitol's anger. The harsh reality of the Capitol's cruelty is revealed every year on July 4th, Reaping Day. On this day, two children from each of the 12 districts are randomly chosen to fight to the death in an arena until only a lone victor remains. Parents hold their children close and hope it isn't their child who will be ripped away from them, knowing that there is nothing they can do to stop it.

However, this year is different. This year marks the very first Quarter Quell, and parents don't have to worry about whether their children might be taken away because, for this once-in-a-lifetime event, they get to choose who goes into the arena. But there's no doubt in anyone's mind who's going in when the mayor has a child of his own - me.

Now it's my turn to play a true game of life or death. May the odds be ever in my favor

Demo ☆ Playlist ☆ Pinterest

Customize your appearance (hair type and color, complexion, height, build, clothing)

Choose how you interact with the Capitol and those of your District

Form new relationships and change the ones you already have

Train in the weapon of your choice yes including a bow

Try not to die<3

17+. Content warnings for graphic violence, child death, child abuse/neglect, starvation, murder

Creon Levesque ♤ The Mentor ♤ RO ♤ 19

A special friend in very special places. I met Creon when you were 12 years old at a dinner party my Uncle Keyon had brought me to in the Capitol. Maybe it was the fact that I was very obviously District or maybe it was something else entirely, but from that night forward, Creon and I have had an intense and strange relationship. And now they stand before me assuring me that with them as a mentor, everything will be alright. How they managed to get themselves as a mentor they won't tell me, but honestly, in the end, does it matter?

♤Creon is gender selectable by the player♤

Romance Route: Red flag of all red flags, forbidden love, different worlds, insta love (at least on Creons part)

Aurelius/Aurelia Weaver ♧ The District Partner ♧ RO ♧ 18

My district partner. I don't know them that well, especially after they dropped out of school at 16 to work full-time in the factories. I'm not entirely sure what I did to them to warrant the looks of pure disgust and anger they throw my way after that, but now things have changed. They asked to be the other tribute for District 8, and now standing in front of them and looking into their eyes, all I can see is a predator looking at its prey. They are going to kill me, and they're going to enjoy it.

♧ Aurel is always the opposite gender of Mc ♧

Romance Route: Enemies to Lovers, Doomed Love, potential unrequited love, perhaps unrequited but actually requited love😏

Asher "Ash" Fairchild ♡ The Childhood Bestfriend ♡ 16

Ash was the first and only real friend I've had my entire life. They were practically the embodiment of everything good in the world. Everyone loved Ash, and when they had their name called for the 23rd reaping the shock and sorrow was felt throughout the entire District. Even walking up to the stage, they moved like a petal dancing through the wind. Their memory has haunted me every day for the past two years, and now I get to experience the same terror they felt in their final moments.

♡ There will be an option to be in a relationship with Ash before their games. Ash is also gender selectable by the player ♡

Romance Route: First love, childhood friends to lovers, soulmates

Soren Vesper ◇ The Mayor ◇ 46

The mayor of District 8, and my Father. A very stern man who prefers things to be done his way. I've never seen his mask of the harsh mayor who does everything the Capitol request ever break, that is until the announcement of the Quarter Quell. The change happened so fast that it scared me. A once mighty man who didn't care about the people of his district now begging them to choose anyone but his child to go into the games. At least I get to know my Father does care for me before I die.

Tribute and Other Profiles TBA

☆This is my second IF my main one is @shadowsofthegun-if if anyone is interested in being a goofy little cowboy and i have another IF @dustandshadows-if set in the world of the shadowhunter chronicles if anyone is interested in that as well. @konosadmaru is also my main if anyone wants to follow me on there☆

#embersofhope-if #soh-if #the hunger games #the hunger games if #choose your own adventure #cyoa #interactive games #survival game #text based game #if wip #wip #if game #twine game #twine #twine interactive fiction #promo post

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arcane-vagabond · 1 year ago

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Fool's Fare: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warnings: Death of parents, angst, talk of ghosts and the supernatural, Big Brother!Bradley...I think that's it?

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I couldn't help myself, so I went ahead and wrote this. I am just as interested as y'all to see where this fic goes lol As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are encouraged and appreciated! I'll be doing Drabble Sunday this weekend to celebrate my first 100 followers! So get your requests ready!! 18+ ONLY!! And you can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The ocean was a deep, terrifying swirl of forgotten pasts and harrowing mysteries. The vicious pull of the waves sending many sailors to their graves for thousands of years without mercy. No, the ocean was not kind. It was the source of life on the best of occasions and cruel and unforgiving on the worst.

Your father had been a sailor. Working for a large shipping company hauling various goods from one end of the sea to the other, he was often gone for long stretches of time. After months of being away, it was always a joyous reunion when he would return. He would swing you up in his arms, twirling you until your little giggles turned into full blown laughter. He would set you back down on your feet and greet your mother with an affectionate kiss to her temple before tugging you both into his arms.

“My best girls are always here to greet me when I get home,” he’d grin. Your mother would hum, running her hands through the beard he’d grow during his time away.

“Come inside,” she’d say, leading you both into your modest, seaside home. Your father would sit at the table as your mother fixed him a plate. He would tell her that he was more than capable of fixing his own plate, but she would wave him off and place the food gently in front of him with a kiss to the top of his head.

One day, when you were a little over four years old, your father had come home from a voyage with a scraggly looking boy who looked to be about twice your age. Your father had been dragging the boy by the scruff of his collar when you and your mother had come out to greet him. The boy had dark brown hair that had been bleached from time in the sun and steady, brown eyes that held steady as he took in the house before him.

“Found this one on the coasts of the Carolinas,” your father had said with a grin, letting go of the boy’s shirt. He stumbled forward, almost falling headfirst onto the ground. He looked back at the older man with a scowl before turning to look at the two of you.

“My, don’t you look a sight?” your mother had said with a small smile as she took the boy in. He puffed out his chest in a bid to make himself seem bigger and your mother had laughed. You took the few, small steps up to him, taking his hand in yours excitedly.

“My name is y/n,” you chirped up at him. “What’s yours?”

The boy studied you with pursed lips.

“Bradley,” he muttered. Your father had let out a booming laugh, causing Bradley to jump.

“That’s the first answer we’ve been able to get out of him since we caught him rifling through our supplies on the ship!” he guffawed. “C’mon now, boy. Let’s go get us some supper.”

And so your family had taken in Bradley Bradshaw as one of your own, and he settled in fairly quickly amongst the rest of you. He would help your mother out with different chores around the house, and when your father was home, he would take you and Bradley down by the docks to teach you the ways of sailing.

“You want to tie it like this, sweetheart,” he’d say to you as he guided your hands on how to move the rope. “It’s one of the most important knots a sailor needs to know. It’s called the ‘bowline.’”

“Like this?” Bradley had asked, holding up his own rope for your father to inspect.

“Atta boy, Rooster!” your father had laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. Bradley had earned the nickname not too long after he had joined your little family. Your father had just gotten back from another transporting job. He had been woken from his sleep by sounds coming from the kitchen. When he had stumbled into the room, he had seen Bradley already working on feeding the fire for the day.

“The sun isn’t even up yet, Bradley,” your father had laughed as the boy shrunk in on himself. “I doubt even the rooster is awake! Looks like you’re gunnin’ for his job.”

And the name had stuck.

Now, Bradley was more confident in his place within your family. Now, Bradley was much taller and his form was filling out thanks to the many hours spent doing the heavy lifting around your home.

“Keep this up,” your father started, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, “and maybe I’ll take you with me on a job here soon.”

Bradley’s face lit up. “Do you mean it?”

“Let’s see, you're about, what, sixteen now?”

“Yes, sir,” Bradley nodded, a smile etched onto his face. Your father nodded thoughtfully.

“Yeah, you should be ready here soon.”

You looked down at the rope in your hands with a frown. “I’ll never get this. Why do I even have to learn this?”

“Because, my little minnow,” your father smiled, “it’s an important skill to know and have.”

“But Mama says that women aren’t even allowed on ships,” you muttered. Your father smoothed the hair out of your face with a thoughtful hum.

“It’s true, women were once considered bad luck to have on ships, and many men still consider them to be so,” he began. “But times are changing, and maybe one day soon you’ll get to set sail with us.”

“Really?” you asked him, eyes filled with hope. He laughed and nodded, turning to look at Bradley.

“C’mon you two. Let’s go see what Mother’s been cooking.”

The three of you trudged up the hill to your home where your mother was already standing outside to greet you. Greeting her with a tender kiss, your father ushed you and Bradley into the house.

When supper was finished and the table had been cleared, you all gathered around the small fireplace. Your father sat in his favorite chair while Bradley and your mother took up the other two. You sat by your fathers feet, resting your head against his knee. The smell from your father’s pipe permeated the room and left you with a sense of fond familiarity as he slowly stroked your hair.

“Papa,” you said, “will you tell us a story?”

“And what kind of story would you like to hear, little minnow?”

“An adventure!” Bradley had grinned. You shook your head.

“No,” you argued. “A ghost story.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, y/n,” the older boy scoffed. Your father hummed with a low chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be so sure o’ that, Rooster,” he smiled. Bradley fixed him with an incredulous look.

“Surely you can’t be serious?”

“As the dead, lad,” your father said solemnly, rubbing the bowl of his pipe. “Ghosts walk amongst the living, as real as you or I. Some even sail the seas, waiting for the day Davy Jones lets them pass into the great beyond.”

“What does Davy Jones even have to do with the dead,” Bradley huffed. Your father arched an eyebrow at him.

“He has everything to do with the dead at sea, Bradley,” he replied softly. “Davy Jones is a powerful man. Not quite human, not quite god. He’s as cruel and unforgiving as the sea, and some even think he was born from the waves that beat against the rocks by the shore. They say his very will controls the tides, and any man foolish enough to invoke his wrath is met with a gruesome fate.”

“Those are just superstitions,” Bradley countered with a scowl.

“You’re free to believe that,” your father began, “but you’d be a fool to. No sailor with a lick of sense is going to take that chance. Davy Jones will come for us all.”

“Why does Davy Jones stay at sea, Papa?” you chirped.

“No one is quite sure,” your father mused. “Perhaps he’s searching for treasure.”

“Would you ever go looking for treasure?” you questioned. Your father smiled.

“I’ve already found my treasure,” he said, casting a fond smile to your mother, who blushed under his gaze.

“Have you ever seen Davy Jones?” you prodded with wide eyes. Your father chuckled, patting your head in reassurance.

“No, little minnow. But those who have are few and far in between. Davy Jones isn’t in the business of letting witnesses stay alive.”

“That’s enough, Maverick,” your mother had chided. Your father had the good sense to look sheepish. Maverick was a name your father had earned during his time at sea, and your mother only called him that when she was cross. Usually, she called him by his given name; Peter or Pete.

“My apologies, Penny, my dear,” he said. Looking back down at you, he offered a smile. “Alright, y/n, it’s time for bed. You too, Bradley. I need you up bright and early tomorrow morning.”

You and Bradley bid your mother goodnight as your father followed you down the hall. When you had crawled under your blanket, he had made sure to tuck you in tight.

“I didn’t scare you too bad, did I, little minnow?” he asked. You shook your head vehemently.

“No, Papa. But, what if you meet Davy Jones one day?”

“That won’t be for a good, long while, sweetheart,” he said with a smile. You nodded, resting your head back down onto your pillow. Your father leaned over to peck your forehead before standing to walk out the door.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said. You smiled.

“Goodnight, Papa.”

A good, long while was not long enough in the end. It was six years later when you got the news that your father’s ship had gone down in a storm off the coast of the Caribbean. Your mother had been beside herself, crying all hours of the day as you and Bradley did your best to stay strong for her sake.

Bradley had caught you crying by the fireplace one night after you thought everyone had gone to bed. He sat next to you, and pulled you to his side as you cried into his shoulder.

“I miss him so much,” you sobbed.

“I know,” he said softly. “I do too.”

“He should be here.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “We didn’t even get to bury him.”

“I know, Guppy,” he sighed, hugging you tighter. Bradley wasn’t very good with words, and he sure as hell wasn’t good with emotions. “But he wouldn’t want us to dwell on this, you know that.”

“I know,” you sniffled, rubbing at your eyes. “He always loved the sea.”

“He loved being here, too,” Bradley countered. You looked up to see his own eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Your mother had followed your father not long after. She had stopped eating and barely took a sip when you begged her to drink some water. She would stay perched by the window in the bedroom she once shared with your father, just staring out at the sea as if willing him to return. It had ended up being a fever that had taken her one early, autumn morning. It was your turn to be inconsolable as you once again found yourself buried into Bradley’s shoulder as he held you tightly. You buried your mother on the hill that overlooked the sea, forever waiting for your father to return home.

You and Bradley had stayed by her grave until the sun began to set.

The following days were filled with familiar motions and quiet sobs hidden behind closed doors long after the stars began to shine in the night sky. One night, you had set a bowl of stew in front of Bradley after he had come home from working at the docks. The two of you sat in silence for a few more minutes before Bradley pulled you to your feet. You went to say something, but he motioned for you to be quiet as he pulled you through the front door and out of the house.

“Where are we going?” you hissed quietly.

“Just trust me,” he shot back, dragging you down to the beach. The cool sand rubbed against the soles of your feet as you followed him, and he stopped you when you both were standing at the edge of the water. The water felt like ice as it licked aginst your ankles, and you felt a shudder run up your spine.

“There!” he called out, gesturing towards the open sea. You looked, but saw nothing but the white caps of waves.

“I don’t see anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. Bradley offered you a smile.

“That’s because you aren’t looking hard enough,” he murmured. He bent down, pointing his finger so that it was directly in your line of sight. “There, do you see it now?”

You squinted your eyes, trying to see what it was he was looking at. “Rooster, I don’t-”

“I see them,” he interrupted you, smiling confidantly. You fixed him with a puzzled look. “I see Mav and Penny just over there past the waves.”

Your heart stopped and hot tears licked at your eyes as you looked back at the churning waters. It was then that you saw what Bradley had been talking about. You saw your mother and your father with smiles on their faces, staring at each other with adoration clear as day on their faces. You wiped the tears away from your eyes as you looked back to see them waving at you. You huffed a laugh and smiled back at them with a wave of your own.

“Looks like Davy Jones let Mav come back for his treasure,” Bradley said. You threw yourself into his arms, holding him tightly.

“Thank you, Bradley.”

The sea could be cold and cruel, but you had the strength to weather the storm.

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himbopunk · 1 month ago

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wrote out that one neve comic i had in my drafts instead of. drawing it. + the lucanis follow up bit. click thru to ao3 or read under cut

also btw check out my playlist for neve/lucanis/rook throuple and also my rook hakim's character playlist

Hakim sat at the table in the lighthouse dining room with his food. He’d managed to find ackee apples at the Treviso market, somehow. He was surprised, as the Antaam often take some of the best fresh fruit, especially if it was anything that reminded him of home. But this time, he’d made something to curb his intermittent homesickness for Rivain. Sure, they could visit more easily now with the crossroads, but it wasn’t the same as living there, and they were usually on the opposite side of the coast from all his old haunts. Hakim misses the food stands in Llomerryn when they’d come to port. The old women he’d call auntie who sold their own juice and tea blends for a dozen ailments, the qunari man he’d flirt with to get more dhalpuri than his shipmates, the smells of a dozen small flames cooking, smokey and rich against the salty sea air. They wondered if the tension with the Antaam in Rivain now had any effects on the festival season, if the Armada even let them get that close. It all felt so distant now. A life from before the Veilguard, before even the mission with Varric ever started. It’s a bit surreal.

Neve was nursing a coffee beside him at the table. This was clearly one she brewed, not Lucanis, Hakim could tell from just the smell wafting off of it. Neither of the two of them had the most healthy relationship with their coffee consumption, but Lucanis took it as a point of pride, it seems. Also, the smell from the bitter sludge Neve drank made his saltfish taste…strange. Not inedibly so, but noticeable.

“Working on something?” Hakim attempted to make conversation. Neve usually had her coffee when she was on a case. Or if she was spiralling, sometimes. Better to check in.

“...Something like that.” She was clearly lost in thought. Hopefully that didn’t mean bets were in on her spiralling.

“Oooookay, well. Your coffee’s gonna get cold if you just stare at it all day. Is it something in Minrathous? Or are you spiraling about Bellara again? Or, ooh, is it a Lucanis spiral this time? You two have been pretty close lately.”

“There’s always something in Minrathous nowadays, Rook. You know that.”

Neve rolls her eyes. “You’ve really got my number, don’t you Rook?”

“Yeah, but you’ve got that face that you get when you’re thinking really hard about something. So you’re either working on a case, or you’re quietly spiraling and hoping nobody notices.”

“You also didn’t say no about the other two things.” Hakim smirks.

“It’s not about Bellara. Or Lucanis.”

“So, a case? You need a second set of eyes?”

“Not…exactly.” She sighs. “It is about someone, though. A friend of mine.” Neve sits back in her chair, pushing her cup forwards somewhat.

“Someone from the Shadow Dragons?”

“Sure.” Hakim isn’t entirely convinced by that response, but knew better than to keep pushing about it.

“Alright, shoot. Even if I can’t help, maybe saying it out loud will help you figure out where you’re at?”

“Maybe. See, this friend of mine has this habit of keeping after everyone else all the time. They’re really helpful, sometimes. Even when they’re not, you can tell they’re trying their best.”

“Uh-huh.” Hakim nods along, mouth full of food.

“Helping everyone else, they know a lot about people, about their problems. And I guess that’s fine, that’s how trusting people works, right?”

“Right.”

“Only, it doesn’t always feel like trust. Trust goes both ways, and I came across some information about them that made me realize that I don’t know them nearly as well as I thought I did. Sure, there’s some stuff on the surface I can gather, but once you see one thing you start to notice how little they talk about themselves, even though they’re there for everyone else. It’s weird, knowing everyone’s problems without being open about your own.”

“So, you don’t trust them now?”

“That’s just it, I do trust them, still. They got a good head on their shoulders from everything I’d seen before I learned what I did. I don’t think they’re hiding it to be malicious, but I do feel jerked around by the whole thing.”

“Makes sense, I guess. You’ve all been trusting them with stuff that seems important, but you don’t really know them at all. Have you talked to them? About the stuff you learned?”

Neve laughs a bit to herself in a way that makes Hakim wonder if he’s missing something. “I’m…working on it.”

“Is it something bad, like it affects the stuff you’re doing, or how they help you…?”

“Not quite. But it does change how I see some of their actions, sometimes.” Hakim taps his chin with the fork, considering the situation a bit more.

“Do they–”

“Rook.” Neve cuts them off, looking at him pointedly.

“Whuh?” Hakim looks confused. Neve sighs a bit, giving him a ‘think about it’ look.

Wait… she wasn’t talking about him, was she?

“Are you–”

“Rook, why didn’t you tell me you were from Tevinter?”

What?!

“Wait, what?”! Hakim hadn’t talked about his childhood with anyone since their Raider days, how did she… “W- Who told you that?”

“Rook, I’m a detective, from Minrathrous. Did you really think I wasn’t going to figure it out?”

“...Did Taash tell you?” He’d almost forgotten how the qunari had blindsided him more than once with their blunt honesty. Makes sense that his past was starting to make the rounds…

“...Yeah, it was Taash.”

“Figures. I mean, I’m sure you might’ve figured it out eventually. What, uh. What all did they say?”

“Not much, we were talking about some of their own baggage. They said that you got some of it because you’re Rivaini and Tevene the same way they’re Rivaini and Qunari. Which was news to me!”

“...Ah.” Hakim should’ve given them more credit, then. They only spilled half the beans.

“But Rook, you let me assume this whole time you just didn’t care about people in Tevinter. That, like most people down here, you didn’t see us as more than the magisterium and a bedtime scary story for Andrasteian children to warn about blood magic from evil magisters.”

“Come on, Neve. We quite literally met in Minrathous.”

“When the sky was full of demons? Not the best counter-example.”

“I mean, I think that’s a bit uncharitable to assume of me, even then.” Hakim was actively avoiding her eye contact now, but Never was having none of it.

“You know what I mean, Hakim. It was one thing if you were ignorant, but you were from here, you should have understood the way the rest couldn’t, and you still left Minrathous to burn.” She slams her hand on the table to punctuate the statement.

Both their faces sank the moment the words left her mouth.

“Right. So much for not blaming me.”

“Damnit, Rook.” Neve sighs, takes a deep breath. “Sorry, but it’s…” She takes a moment to compose herself. “I know you made a tough decision. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened to Treviso if you weren’t there. But you should know me by now. Clearly you do enough to tell when I’m in my head just by how I drink my coffee. Can’t you get how it might feel realizing I don’t really know you? Given all of it?”

“I–”

“Why keep it a secret?” Neve asks, exasperated. She’s practically pleading.

He wishes he didn’t get it. He also wishes he knew what to say here for her that wouldn’t make it worse.

“...”

Neve sighs, running her hand back though her hair. They both sit in tense silence for a moment, Neve staring at her coffee and Hakim at his food.

“You know, Rook.” They both looked up, meeting eyes as she spoke. “I asked the other Lords about you.”

“...You did? When?”

“I wrote to some of them when we first stopped Solas. I wanted to know who I was working with. I spoke with some of them recently in Rivain too, after I got back. Everyone has a different story about where you came from. And anyone who used to be a Raider didn’t have much to say. I’m not entitled to your history, I get that. But you have to admit, it doesn’t look great right now.”

“Neve…”

“You heard what I said before. I still trust you, I’ve seen the decisions you make, the work you do. I trust your judgement, even with everything that’s happened. I just need you to be honest here.”

“I… look, with the Lords, it’s not that intentional. A lot of us tell stories about our past, make shit up. It always sounds better than wherever you’re actually from. You’d be surprised how many Lords are just former goat farmers who wanted to feel like a hero.”

“Right. Telling stories. In my line of work, we call that ‘having something to hide.’”

“Good thing I’m not in your line of work, then.” Neve groans, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

“Maker help me– It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult of a conversation, Rook.” She looks up at him again, but Hakim avoids her eye contact. “Why are you still dodging the question? I’ve had actual Venatori interrogations less frustrating than this.”

Hakim fidgets with his food using his fork, having nothing to say. He didn’t want to outright lie to her, but this wasn’t really a topic he enjoyed getting into. Maybe she’d figure it out.

“I don’t get it. Are you ashamed? You’re not a mage, so I’d imagine half of what people say about us would barely even bother you. And I know you, you hardly give what other people say about you the time of day in the first place. I feel like I’m missing something.”

Neve did often have to talk about a case out loud to find where the dots connect. Hakim sighs. He really didn’t want to be the one to say it. So this time it was their turn to give Neve the ‘think about it’ look.

How many reasons does a non-mage elf from Tevinter have to be in Rivain? And he was a pirate, if you so much as wake up with bad bed head a couple times, that’s your name for the rest of forever. Of those reasons, which would even some of the Raiders of the Waking Sea respect enough to shut up about it?

Finally, it seemed to click.

“...Oh. You were–”

“Yeah. ‘Til I was 19.”

“Shit. I didn’t realize–” Hakim winced, knowing what comes next. It’d been awhile since he’d had to hear pity in anyone’s voice about this. Especially someone else Tevene.

“Neve, don’t. It’s fine.” Hakim sighs. “I’m my own man now. That’s what matters.”

“This is what I was talking about, Rook. You get that, right? We all trust you, the others trust you with a lot about themselves. You told me the first time we talked after what happened at the ritual site that you trust me, even though we’ve done nothing else together by that point. But this is a big thing, Rook, and you didn’t trust me with it.”

“No, Neve, I…”

“What?”

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you with it, okay? It’s not that.” Hakim rubs his eye.

“Okay, so what is it?” Hakim doesn’t make eye contact with her, not saying anything for a long moment.

“Rook?”

“I meant it when I said it wasn’t as intentional as a lie. I am Rivaini. I have been as long as I’ve gotten to be me. That’s what matters. That’s all that matters. You get it?”

“And, what, it just never came up before? Not even when you were helping the Shadow Dragons, before the gods showed up with their blighted dragons?”

“What did you want me to say? ‘Hey Shadow Dragons, nice work you’re doing here. I used to be a slave just like the people you’re rescuing! Anyways, let me get those blighted catacombs for you!’” He put on a bit of a mocking voice for the bit, going up several octaves and gesturing wildly. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure that would’ve gone over real well and not make me feel weird and awful at all!” Hakim gave her an incredulous look to punctuate the ridiculousness of the situation. Neve couldn’t help but crack a smile at it. He sighed, and smiled back. It seems like some of the tension of the situation was finally starting to bleed away.

“Alright then, fine. I get it. Why tell Taash, then? Especially if you didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Yeah, not my brightest moment. In my defense, I don’t know how to lie to them, I think. They’re so… forward.” Neve laughs at that.

“I’m supposed to believe that’s never been an issue for you before? Remember the part when I talked about how I talked to the other Lords? Some of your friends leave it all out in the open.”

“Okay, sure, we don’t mince words in Rivain so much.”

“Or wear a shirt without your midriff showing.”

“If we wear shirts at all.” He winks at her, Neve just rolls her eyes. “But, true. Yeah. But you’ve talked to Taash, they can just… hit you with a question that gets right down to it, and if you don’t answer it exactly, they keep asking new ones. They come at a conversation like a Halla running you down in the spring. It’s… weird? I mean, not weird like they’re weird for it, but it’s not something I’m used to. A hundred times, someone’s asked me what I did before the Lords, I’ve had a story for every single one.”

“No…I can see it. I’ve had a few moments like that with them.”

“Not to mention, Harding was with me and she already knew, so that didn’t really factor in as much as it normally does.”

“Wait, Harding knew?”

“I’ve known her longer than any of you, save maybe Varric.”

“...Fair, I suppose.”

“Also, speaking of which, she would’ve known because of him, too. Varric and Isabela have known each other for years before I even ended up on her ship.”

“Well now I really feel out of the loop.”

“I… look, Neve. I’m sorry, I am. I could’ve been more open about my past, especially when we were in Minrathous. But in the context of people who actually know the types of questions to ask… At the end of the day, it’s just a miserable thing I don’t really like to talk about. I don’t want it to define me. I’m the only one who gets to do that.”

“...I can understand that. I do like to think I’d have a bit more tact, especially with the work I’ve done with the Shadow dragons.”

“Shit, Neve, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know, I know.” Neve hums a bit, glancing down at her half-drank coffee.

“So… Taash and Harding know. What about the others?”

“You know, I thought about telling Bellara after she talked about her brother…”

“But…?”

“But if she looked at me with those big sad eyes about it, I think I’d throw up.”

Neve laughs. “I can see that.”

Hakim leans back in his chair, tapping his chin as they contemplate the other options.

“Still getting a feel for Emmrich, honestly. But there was a moment at the Necropolis while we were dealing with Venatori that did make me want to say something. I think he’d be fine, just needs a time and a place…” He tilts his head to the side. “There just genuinely hasn’t been a good point with Davrin for it to come up organically. Even without me being avoidant about it. I did think it might be funny to throw out there with a good joke about it, but I haven’t really found one that works for me.”

“Not too many good slavery jokes for you to choose from, huh?”

“Not that I can say without seeming like a arse! It’s bullshit, my sense of humor is the only way I get through anything.”

“That’s a mildly concerning way to cope, don’t you think?”

“You don’t really have a leg to stand on here, Neve.” She rolls her eyes.

“Rich, Rook. You think I haven’t heard that one before?”

“Wh– Oh. I didn’t even mean it that way but that works.”

“So… what about Lucanis?”

“I…” Hakim trails off. Of course he hadn’t told him about it yet, but it was a bit more than it being an awkward conversation.

“Rook… After the Ossuary, you don’t think he’d get it?”

“Okay, well, it’s really not the same, though, is it?”

“Alright, sure. That’s true. But I don’t think that’s what your problem is, Rook. I think you’re afraid of him being understanding.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Doesn’t it? Rook, who can take everyone’s lives and problems seriously except his own.”

“Hey–”

“Face it, you hate feeling seen. Being known. This whole conversation has been pretty good evidence for that. But Lucanis sees you, doesn’t he?”

Hakim scoffs. “You’re one to talk, Detective Trust Issues.”

“That’s exactly why I’m saying something, Rook. I know that helping everyone who needs it without ever slowing down means you never have to confront your own shit. I get that.”

Hakim knows that’s true, he doesn’t have a good argument against it. They thought they’d call her bluff on it, but no. Neve’s right, and maybe she’s even aware that this is scary for him in the same way, for her to see him too. But it being scary didn’t make it any less necessary.

Hakim groans, dragging his hands down his face. “I hate when you’re right.”

“You must spend a lot of time angry, then.” Neve smirks, crossing her arms. He rolls his eyes.

“Ha, ha.” Hakim laughs, dry and sarcastic.

“Look, we can work the rest out together, but you should talk to Lucanis.”

“...I know.” He sounded nearly as exasperated as she was a few moments ago.

“Especially with whatever this thing is that you two have going on, I think it would be meaningful.” She gives him a knowing look, Hakim rolls his eyes again but he can feel the tips of his ears go hot. He laughs, but it almost sounds choked.

“Ha, there’s nothing going on between us, Neve.” Neve looks unconvinced.

She looks him up and down quickly, then stares at him, as if to wordlessly say Really? Who are you fooling?

Hakim shoots back a glance, as if to say I don’t know what you’re talking about. Neve just laughs.

“Sure, Rook. Like we all haven’t seen the longing stares and wistful sighs. And for all the times I’ve seen you leer at other men, with Lucanis I’ll catch you staring at his hands, when you think nobody else is looking. You don’t do that for anyone else.”

Hakim gives her a shut up look, and she just laughs again.

“What do you want me to say, Neve? You’re right, yeah, I’ve got a thing for Lucanis. But he’s clearly not interested, so like I said, there’s nothing going on with us. The last thing I want to do is put him in a weird position because I feel some kind of way. So…I’m trying to reel it in, alright?”

Neve raises an eyebrow, looking mostly unconvinced. Hakim would be the first to admit he wasn’t the best at ‘reeling it in,’ sure, but based on her expression, there was something else to it.

“What?”

She sighs. “I almost forgot how dense you are.”

“...What?”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Just talk to him.”

Hakim throws his hands up in the air, giving in. “Fine. I will. I mean, I was going to, anyways. Eventually.”

“Sure.” Again, unconvinced.

“I was.”

“I believe you, but now I’ll hold you to it.” She smiles at him.

“Yeah.” Hakim sinks into his seat a bit. He’d never looked forward to this conversation, but a part of him was glad they were on the same page now, at least. Sometimes dancing around the subject got tiresome. “Thanks, Neve.”

“What for, yelling at you?”

“I meeean…” He trailed off, ready to say some stupid joke or innuendo if Neve let him, but she definitely wasn’t going to.

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Hakim laughs.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! No, we needed to talk about this, though, I think. I do want you to be able to trust me, the rest of the team too. Back with the Raiders and the Lords, it wasn’t supposed to matter who you used to be at the end of the day. And I think I needed that then, but the team is different. All of it matters, sometimes”

“Well… I’d say I was sorry for prying…”

“Yeah, don’t lie. We just had a whole heart to heart about that.”

Neve laughs.

“Alright, I won’t. But it’s a good thing we talked about this.”

“Make you feel better about some stuff now that it’s out there?”

“...A bit, yeah. And Rook, you know if you ever want to talk to people who really get it, I know some people in the Shadow Dragons that might be helpful.”

“I…” Hakim pauses, considering it. “Maybe. I’ll get back to you on that.”

She shrugs. “No rush, the offer’s always open.”

“Thanks…” Hakim taps his finger on the table for a moment, ready to let the conversation die, then something occurs to him. “You know, Neve, I think you need to work on your detective skills.”

She raises an eyebrow, recognizing the leadup to a joke and ready to be annoyed with whatever it is he says next. “And why’s that?”

“I’m just saying, I’m basically covered in snake tattoos, but it took you getting told by Taash to realize I was born in Tevinter.” He laughs, she just sighs.

“Rook, if anything, your tattoos are the most Rivaini thing about you.”

He grins, proud of himself. “I know. And I only got two of them in Rivain!”

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

Lucanis overhears a lot from the pantry that he’d chosen as his room. Everyone was aware he lived in there, clearly, but it seemed that it was closed off enough for it to slip their minds, as everyone would still often find themselves speaking very freely in the kitchen or dining hall. Of course, that was fine, they should be able to. The lighthouse needed to be a place of safety and solace for everyone on the team, as it had been for him. And truthfully, this sort of thing is bound to happen anywhere. You so rarely know who’s listening around the corner.

Usually, when Lucanis found himself in the position where he was realizing how thin the walls really were, he’d try to tune out some of the conversation. Especially if it felt like something private. It may go against most everything he was taught as a Crow, information can be sharpened into a dagger to strike later, but it was a dignity he felt the others were owed.

All this to say, he hadn’t been intending to eavesdrop on Rook and Neve.

Today was his third day without any sleep, and it’s always the third day that starts to eat at him. He’d had coffee, strong stuff too, but he could feel the caffeine start to bleed out of his system, and his limbs grew heavier as the exhaustion caught up with him. As unconsciousness pleaded to take him home, listening to Rook and Neve’s voices helped to keep him grounded. They kept him focused… but he half wished it hadn’t.

Neve had since left the dining hall, it sounded like, leaving Rook to finish his food. (Which reminded him, he needed to look into some of the Rivaini recipes Rook had been making. This one used a strange looking fruit he’d never seen before, but Rook’s eyes had lit up when he spotted it at the markets in Treviso.) Lucanis considered going out to say something to him, but he felt it would only make things worse. So he sat there on his cot, going over everything he’d just heard, comparing it with everything that he’d known before.

There were three revelations that overhearing this conversation had brought him to. In the grand scheme of things, he supposed they did not change much about the man he knew… and yet they reframed everything. Like his vision adjusting to a sunlit sky in the morning, nothing looks quite the same as they had the night before.

The first revelation was simple, the smallest of the three: Hakim, at some point, was originally from the Tevinter Imperium. There really wasn’t much to this one, he supposed. Hakim had already at some point let it slip that he wasn’t born in Rivain. He knew the man travelled a fair amount, and that he came from humble origins, but not much else. From what he heard, he wasn’t even sure at what point he ended up in Rivain for sure. For a man who had spent a chunk of his career hunting down Venatori, there was surprisingly little about Rook that he could recognize as Tevene. But he supposed that’s why he’d only ever claimed to be Rivaini.

It was interesting to know for sure now, and maybe if this were the only new thing he’d learned, that would’ve been fine. Clearly, Neve felt differently, but he understood her reasons. If Rook had been a Crow, and had chosen to be in Minrathous instead of Treviso that day, he can’t say he’d react much differently. But he had no Mabari in this fight.

The rest, though? It felt so much more invasive.

The second revelation, Lucanis realized, shouldn't have come as big of a surprise for a man as invested in their freedom and the freedom of others as he was. The fact that Hakim was at some point a slave clearly doesn’t define him. Lucanis assumes, rightly, that the man would likely sucker punch anyone who would suggest it did. That being said… it did recontextualize a lot about him.

Lucanis recalled the conversation he had had with Rook and Bellara about the former’s many tattoos, and the Elvish phrase on his back. He thought about the way Rook artfully sidestepped conversations about his family or his childhood. Lucanis noticed every time, but never pried. Lucanis understood losing people, losing family, whatever had happened (as something clearly had), he thought they would just open up about it at their own pace. And it seems he did… just not with him.

No, that wasn’t really fair. Neve was an expert at asking exactly the right questions, and even then, Rook wouldn’t say anything. She didn’t figure it out until the conversation had nowhere else to go. This whole conversation was a matter of circumstance, it seems. And Rook had said they were going to talk to him about it.

Lucanis found his mind wandering to a moment from a conversation he had with them, right after they’d helped him escape the Ossuary.

“I admire you, what you’ve been through would break most people.” That’s what they said then. It had stuck with Lucanis simply for the kindness of the sentiment. Until this moment, he had assumed that’s all the gesture was: a kind expression of empathy, maybe an acknowledgement of the strength required for survival. It came to him still, sometimes, when he needed to be reminded of that strength.

Now, though? He wasn’t sure. Maybe that’s still all it was, but he couldn’t help wondering if there was more to the statement.

What you’ve been through would break most people kept repeating in his mind. Had it broken him? How long did it take for Rook, alone, to put back the pieces of who he was? How long did it take to find them in the first place, to make himself? And had it impacted the lengths he’d gone to help Lucanis? Sure, Caterina had sent him, and sure, Lucanis was meant to help with the elven gods, but what amount was driven by the fact that he understood the situation in a way few did? In ways he couldn’t tell the rest? (Except Harding, apparently, but that didn’t surprise Lucanis much.)

Rook had told him how much he’d admired his strength, but Lucanis half wonders if Rook sees his own strength here. The strength shown in his ability to become the man he was, wholly free in a way that, even before the Ossuary, Lucanis has never really been. To carve out a place in a world that seemed to fight him at every turn, even now.

He wanted to tell them that, to burst out from the pantry right now, grip their shoulders, and let them know that their own strength inspires and comforts him in ways he still struggles to describe. To embrace him, to commiserate in their imprisonment in ways that only people bound by trauma can, to know him. He could feel Spite pushing him, telling him “Go, go, talk to him NOW!” But demons, as it turns out, are not known for their tact. He couldn’t. It wasn’t right, how he knew. He needed to wait for Rook to approach him first. Lucanis understood how important choice was Rook, especially now. He’d have to pretend he didn’t know, until they were ready.

But then there was the final revelation, wasn’t there? The one that scared him, the one that made him feel like an idiot.

Lucanis was very much in love with Rook. But he knew that, didn’t he? As much as he’d love to avoid acknowledging the feeling, to focus on anything else when they were together, he knew that. But he’d settled on hopeless pining. It may ache every time Rook looked his way and smiled, but it was simply how things were. He respected the man too much to overstep, to risk damaging their relationship or the mission for his own selfish desires. (And nevermind how tangled up it all felt with his feelings for Neve as well. His heart had often found itself in knots, as of late.)

Only now, he’d come to realize that perhaps these feelings weren’t as one-sided as he’d presumed. To think he’d hear Neve tease them about wistful sighs in the same way she had done to him half a dozen times. Of course, Lucanis was not always completely ignorant to their flirtations or entendre, but that’s just how Rook was, wasn’t it? And the quiet moments, when they’d stand with him by the fire, and Lucanis thought he had caught Rook smiling softly at him in his periphery- Maker, he was an idiot.

Lucanis was briefly snapped out of his spiral by the sound of Rook’s plate and fork clattering, followed shortly by the sound of the front door. He must have finally left. Lucanis sighed quietly in relief.

He considered the thought that Rook hadn’t just felt similarly to himself. Rook, the fool that he is, assumed that Lucanis didn’t feel the same, that he couldn’t. Decided that Lucanis would shut him down, so he had to ‘reel it in.’ Ignore the feelings, move on, focus on anything but, the same way Lucanis had. There was something endearing to the Crow, knowing that Rook, charismatic and flirtatious rogue that they were, still found themself floundering nearly as much as he had been. They were both idiots, really. Maybe that could work.

Lucanis sighed. His thoughts on the matter were starting to slow down, exhaustion creeping back into his mind now that the last of the realization panic had slipped away. Revelations or not, this was definitely not the time for Spite to potentially be running rampant. He needed some coffee.

#iiiiiii dont knoooooow how much i like the lucanis parts but its FINE #tired...#oc tag #dazens notebook #hakim laidir #rook #lucanis #lucanis dellamorte #neve #neve gallus #dazen talks dragon age #neve x rook #neve x lucanis #rook x lucanis #neve x lucanis x rook #dragon age #datv #i posted it on ao3 at like 4 am and forgot to post here

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