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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 days ago

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Lights, Camera, Colombia

💫 Chapter One 💫

Summary: Ten years after he quit the DEA Javi gets approached by a production company, asking if he would like to be involved in the production of a documentary about Pablo Escobar and the drug war. When he agrees, he meets you, one of the producers of the documentary and the woman who he will spend the next months working with on the documentary and travel back to Colombia, the woman who will get to know about the side of him that he never wants anyone to see, the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

Chapter Summary: Javi and you finally meet when you pick him up at the airport in Colombia and you get to know each other. And oh boy you just know the next couple of weeks are gonna be trouble....

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem. reader

Wordcount: 7.4k

Rating: T (for some flirting)

Warnings: angst, fluff, a look into Javi’s head, Javi's anxiety, food mentions, flirting so much flirting

A/N: I am so excited to finally get the first full chapter out! I tried to do as much research as possible but we all know this is fictional so just roll with it lol

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Full Masterlist // Javier Peña Masterlist // Lights, Camera, Colombia Masterlist

Flying was not something Javier particularly enjoyed.

It wasn’t even the flying part about it, but all the rest. And most of it, the waiting. He hated to sit around and just do…. Nothing. Hell, he even brought a book with him that he attempted to read on the layover in Houston. Instead he went to the bar to have a beer.

He had been okay in the planing of this trip to Colombia. He had checked in with you, made a couple of suggestions, even though what you had planned out was already close to perfect.

The two of you had talked quite a lot through email and through phone to get to know each other a little before spending so much time one on one.

He knew a little about your family and that you had been working with TC production for a little over five years now. The last documentary you had worked on had won a couple of awards and after finding out about that Javier had asked you to send a copy of it to him so he could watch it.

And you did.

It was a documentary about how the drug war affected the whole of the United States.

And Javi had loved the way it was put together. He could only hope that this one would be just as good.

He knew that you already had been in Colombia for the last couple of days to prepare. It was quite the schedule you worked out, but you always left enough time to relax for a day or two before moving on to the next location to shoot.

Only last week you had gotten the confirmation that you’d be able to shoot in what was left of La Cathedral, which apparently had been bought by a benedictine order to be turned into an actual cathedral with time. And you’d also be going to Hacienda Napoles. Something he found himself excited about, since he didn’t have the chance to go there back then.

Yet overall what he felt about going back to Colombia was anxiety.

In the week leading up to his flight even his nightmares returned. He had to schedule an extra appointment with Margery and she taught him some breathing exercises to calm himself down. Sure, he could have taken anxiety meds, but there were better times to start looking into that then when he was about to leave the country for six weeks.

And so he took those breathing exercises and a big glass of whiskey instead of anxiety meds. A combination that would hopefully get him over the next couple of weeks.

His CIA contact had informed him that he indeed was still on some kill lists in Colombia. But he was told not to be too concerned, the cartels had other issues to figure out at the moment. That, and he was traveling under a wrong name.

Also set up by his CIA contact.

Maybe if he hadn’t been a mess back then (well… he is still kind of a mess) things with Heather, the CIA contact, could have worked out. She was pretty, super intelligent and had a killer smile. They had met shortly after he came back from Colombia and had to get to one last DEA hearing where she was sitting in.

It was a short but intense fling they had. And thankfully they parted ways as friends which was why he could reach out to her for a favour like this.

She also took care of the gun permit for the journey for both him and you.

„Flight 405 to Bogota, Colombia is now ready for boarding. Please proceed to your gate“

He took a deep breath before he emptied his glass of beer. Closing his eyes he counted down from ten as he took some deep breaths, before he grabbed his backpack and walked out of the airport bar and towards his gate.

He gave the flight attendant a small smile, her cheeks flushing as she handed him back his boarding pass before he proceeded down towards the plane, pleasantly surprised that he would fly first class.

Not that he had much from it.

He was asleep before the plane was even up in the air.

Maybe the next time you were considering a new project it should be somewhere more up north. Like…. Canada or…. The north pole.

You had been in Colombia for four days and even though people around you were telling you that this weather was completely normal and actually quite cold for the season, you were sweating like crazy from the moment you got out of bed. The humidity was not something you were used to or fond of.

You were more of a rainy day under a blanket type of girl.

Though you could admit that there were worse ways to spend a sunset than on a hotel balcony facing the ocean with a glass of white wine while only wearing your underwear.

You had spend the day meeting up with the film crew who would already be busy tomorrow with scenery footage and interviewing some of the locals while you would go to the airport to pick up Javier. He had told you he could rent a car but you had waved him off, telling him that you had to get used to driving in this city anyway.

If you were honest with yourself, you were excited to meet him.

You had talked quite a lot in the last weeks and you got to know him a little. He had opened up a little about how Colombia had changed him and that while part of him was looking forward to see how the country changed, there was also the lingering anxiety about what had went down there all those years ago.

You were pretty sure that only a fraction of the things that happened while they were working in Colombia had been made available to the rest of the world and you hoped that you would learn a little more. Sure, there would be things he could not talk about but the journalist in you wanted to at least try to get something new out of him.

And, of course, you knew that he was an attractive man.

Even if he aged very poorly, which you don’t think he did, you did see the ID of his DEA badge and ID that he sent to you via mail, he would still be just your type.

Something you hoped would not disturb your work.

Then again, a little flirting never hurt nobody, right?

But you were going to far ahead. You hadn’t even met in person yet and here you were already flirting with him in your mind.

You sighed, watching the sun disappear into the ocean.

In four days you would take him to the old search bloc building and after that to one of the drug labs that he had taken down that was now a restaurant.

You had high hopes for the next weeks and you were excited to start working.

His plane had touched down almost 45 minutes ago and you were growing a little anxious. You hoped that there were no issues with him traveling under a cover name or with his gun.

You were pleasantly surprised that the permits had been dealt with so quickly.

Just as surprised as when you learned that he was still on four kill lists from new cartels that had formed in the wake of Escobars death and the downfall of the Cali cartel.

You hadn’t told Javier yet that depending on how good this documentary did, you might get the chance to do one on the Cali cartel too.

But that was not something you were concerning yourself about now.

There would be a time for that in the future.

Now, you were excited and a little anxious as you waited for Javier to walk out of baggage claim.

And you didn’t have to wait for that much longer, the doors opening and there he was in the flesh.

Carrying a big brown suitcase in his left hand, his eyes hidden behind some dark sunglasses as he walked out. Since he didn’t know what you looked like, it gave you some time to take him in. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome and if you thought yesterday that he could become a problem, you were now downright fucked.

There was the hint of grey in his otherwise dark brown temples, his moustache trimmed to perfection. Dark, full brown hair that looked perfectly messy, as if he walked right out of a photoshoot. His pants were tight, his baby blue dress shirt, the first couple buttons open and revelling his chest, tucked into his jeans, a leather jacket covering his broad shoulders.

If he was only half as a flirt now as he was back when he was working here, things were going to be interesting in the next couple weeks. He came to a stop, taking his glasses of and let his gaze wander through the crowd, most likely trying to find you.

You took a deep breath, suddenly not the humidity being at fault for making you sweaty.

„Javier?“ You asked as you walked towards him, his head turning as he heard you, a small smile sneaking to his lips as he said your name.

„Yeah, that’s me,“ you couldn’t help but grin, stopping when you were in front of him, holding your hand out for him to shake.

He took it, his hand enveloping yours completely as he shook it and you gulped.

„It’s so nice to finally meet you in person,“ you said.

Going through security was surprisingly easy considering he was traveling under a false name. They checked the documents, asked what he was doing here and how long he would be staying and if he had a ticket for his return flight.

The long part was waiting for his suitcase. It gave him time to get to the restroom to pee and then throw some cold water into his face after he looked at himself in the mirror.

He really was back in Colombia.

Giving himself twenty seconds to freak out about it, he threw another hand of cold water into his face before he used a shitty paper towel to dry himself up. Walking out to the baggage carousel the suitcases were finally getting thrown out, yet it took another ten minutes for his to make an appearance.

With his backpack over his shoulder and his suitcase in his hand he finally made his way out onto Colombian ground. The airport looked a little different from how it did the last time he was here.

Apparently Starbucks had also finally made its way to Colombia. Something he found quite weird with how good the local coffee was.

He was still wondering about that, when he took his sunglasses off to let his gaze wander over the people who were waiting. He never saw a picture of you so he had no idea what you looked like.

Yet for some reason pretty came to his mind when he thought of you. Even though he only knew your voice.

He heard his name being called from his left side and he turned his head just in time to see a woman approach him.

You.

He said your name and you smiled and fuck if he thought you were pretty, actually seeing you with his own eyes and seeing how pretty you were? Well, fuck.

He took your hand, shaking it once, seeing your smile light up your whole face.

„It’s so nice to finally meet you in person!“ You said and he nodded.

„Likewise,“ he said, cringing internally. Likewise? Really Javier?

„Was your flight okay? I had the worst turbulences on my way here. Almost kissed the ground when I made it out of the plane,“ you joked and he smiled.

„I slept all the way through. I think the realisation that this was really happening caught up with me there,“ he said, nervously rubbing his hand over his neck.

„I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling. Only reading about everything that happened and knowing that you were there for almost everything? Unbelievable,“ you said in awe and he was sure he was blushing.

„Yeah. The last time I’ve been to this airport I had just been fired,“ he snorted and you huffed a laugh, starring at him.

„Are you ready to get to the hotel?“ You asked him and he found himself nodding.

„Follow me,“ you said and turned around and Javier found himself falling into step next to you as you led him out of the airport.

„The car rental gave me a super tiny car but I am supposed to get a new one tomorrow. So…. I hope you fit into the seat,“ you joked and he found himself grinning.

„I am sure I’ll make it,“ he said, winking at you as you looked up at him.

He caught himself looking over his shoulder, seizing up every person around him, looking for a potential threat. He felt his hands getting sweaty and he reached for his sunglasses, putting them back on his nose while he took a calming breath.

For the first time in a long time he felt the need for a cigarette.

The humidity outside was like running against a wall as they made it out of the airport building. You slowed your steps, noticing Javier was looking around, his sunglasses back on his nose.

„It looks different,“ he said after a moment, looking back at you.

„Yeah?“ You asked and he nodded.

„Also feels fucking different,“ he chuckled a little uneasy, trying to work through his anxiety. It had been a long time since he felt like this. You gave him a small smile, fighting down the urge to take his hand or touch him, feeling like you wanted to comfort him.

„We’re almost there. I hope you like the hotel. It just opened this year,“ you said as you stepped inside the car park, leaving Javier to feel like he could finally take a breather, a lot less people now around him.

„I’m sure it will be fine. As long as I get a bed and a beer I am happy,“ he said, adding „I think I underestimated how being back here would have me on edge.“

You stopped walking and looked at him.

„If at any point it gets to much, please tell me. I know you said you’d be fine, but being back here must be a lot for you. I’d never judge you if you ask for a break or even stopping this whole thing. I don’t want this documentary and being back here to be a reason that you end up hurt in any way, okay?“ You asked.

He took a deep breath after he listened to you, exhaling with a sigh.

„I’ll be fine,“ he said and you narrowed your eyes and he found himself smiling.

„I’ll tell you if anything gets too much, I promise,“ he added and your eyes softened, before you nodded and turned away from him to continue to lead him to the rental car.

And if Javier found himself checking out how great your ass looked in the jeans shorts you were wearing? Well he had to get the thoughts in his head to focus on something else than being back in Colombia now, right?

The drive towards the hotel was quiet.

Javier was busy looking around and noticing all the changes in the city and you were busy, well, driving.

It’s not like you can’t drive. But with living in New York City you don’t get to do it much and definitely not with being yelled at in a language you understand but never felt really confident to speak.

Javier on the other hand was surprised how much he recognised as you drove. Then again he did spend many years driving these streets. There was something different though. There were a lot more people out on the street. No buildings were damaged from gun holes or explosions.

It seemed…. Happier. Brighter.

„The hotel is actually on the ground where the old embassy building was,“ he heard you say and was reminded that he wasn’t alone. He had completely zoned out.

He looked at you, seeing how you were gripping the steering wheel tightly, muscle tensed. There was sweat running down your temples even though the A/C of the car was running on full speed.

He got the impression that driving was not your most favourite and he made a mental note to ask and offer to drive himself later on.

„They relocated the embassy?“ He asked and you nodded, changing the lane, blinker set to drive to the right.

„They didn’t need a big building like that anymore and they wanted higher security, so they moved to a new build building around twenty minutes from here,“ you explained, releasing a sigh of relief as you finally saw the hotel right at the end of the street.

Javi on the other hand was impressed by the big building in front of him that had no resemblance to the office building he had spend countless hours chasing after cartels and making numerous, oftentimes questionable decisions.

The whole area around where he used to spend his everyday life for years was completely transformed, nothing reminding him of the familiarity he felt walking these streets everyday. The café he used to get his coffee from was gone, replaced by a flower shop. The little empanada shop he used to get 80% of his dinners from gone, the whole building transformed into what looked like apartments.

There were big trees lining up the street.

If Javier didn’t know that he had been driving this street daily for two years he would never think this was the same place.

You drove around the hotel and down the street until the car stopped in front of the entrance. You turned of the engine and let your head fall back against the headrest, closing your eyes as you released a long breath.

„Not the biggest fan of driving?“ Javier asked softly. You shook your head.

„Not the biggest fan of driving,“ you said, before you looked at him with an exhausted smile.

„I’m sure you want to freshen up and relax. I made a reservation at the hotel restaurant for later today so we can talk through some of the things I have planned for this week. But we only start the day after tomorrow, so… there’s no rush, okay?“ You said and he nodded at you.

„Great,“ you nodded back before you took a deep breath and got out of the car. Javier did the same, walking towards the trunk to retrieve his suitcase and backpack. Before that though, he took his leather jacket off, the heat outside being really unbearable.

Was this the climate change bullshit he had read about? He didn’t remember it being that fucking hot in this country apart from the time he was forced to spend time with Stechner in the jungle.

You on the other hand schooled your face into what hoped look like expressionless once he was out of his jacket. It definitely wasn’t the jacket that made him broader, it was just… him.

You turned towards the hotel and the valet who thankfully would park the car for you before Javier could catch you starring. You were still mezermermised by the foyer of the hotel, a chandelier that was bigger as the car that you had just driven hanging over the desk, hundreds of lightbulbs artfully arranged.

You smiled at the woman behind the desk, having talked to her for a while the day before to get some recommendations for restaurants and bars in the closer area. You more felt that saw Javier as he followed you, a shiver running up your spine, the hairs on your neck standing up.

It was like you could feel his eyes on you and you fought the urge to turn around to confirm it for yourself.

In broken Spanish you asked for the keys to yours and Javier’s room and she gave them to you with a kind smile. Turning around you indeed caught Javier starring at you, sunglasses back in his chest pocket, eyes snapping up from what you were sure was your ass as he looked at you.

„You got the room next to mine. Both are facing towards the ocean more or less,“ you said, handing him the key to his room and he nodded.

The elevator ride up to your floor was a quiet one, both of you in your thoughts, the ding of the elevator arriving making you jump. You glanced up at him, finding him already looking at him before he stepped out and walked down the floor, you following him.

„I made the reservation for 7pm, is that okay?“ You asked.

„Perfect. I hope they got some good tamales. Otherwise we have to check if the place Steve and I used to get ours is still there in the next days,“ he said and you smiled a little, nodding.

„I would love that,“ you said, stopping front of your room.

„I’ll see you later?“ You asked, Javier nodded.

„If you need anything, just call or knock. I’ll be researching for another project, so I’ll be awake,“ you said, opening your hotel door and looking at him.

He just nodded again, giving you a small smile as he walked past your room and towards his own. You took a step inside, letting your head rest against the door as you heard a click when his door closed.

Yeah.

You were in trouble now.

Even though he had slept through the flight, the moment he got out of the shower in his hotel room he fell asleep again. And surprisingly he hadn’t dreamed of anything. It was just a blissful two hour long nap he woke up from once he got cold, having fallen asleep with just a towel around his hips.

With a groan he turned on his back, staring at the ceiling.

If he felt anxiety about being here when he first got here this morning, his feelings now where…. Different. He just didn’t know how exactly yet.

Then again he didn’t know how he felt most days. Now only the added confusion about being back in a place that plagued his nightmares came on top of it.

And then there was you.

When he talked to you on the phone leading up to this stay in Colombia he felt himself more and more looking forward to talking to you. The phone calls to you being the highlight of his day. He found himself thinking about what you were doing through certain times in the day and he questioned if he could be attracted to someone he had never met before.

But then today you had met and fuck if Javier thought he was in trouble on the phone with you, right now, knowing you were just on the other side of the wall of his hotel room was a whole different story.

You were beautiful.

In every single way possible and he had only spend an hour with you. Part of him was scared to find out what would happened once you spend every single day with each other, but there was also a part of him, a part he forgot existed, that was excited.

Excited to get to experience this new version of Colombia with you.

Excited to get to know you.

He took a look at the clock on his bedside table, realising it was later than he thought. And maybe he spent a little more time getting ready, before he made his way towards your room to pick you up for dinner.

You on the other hand did everything but research the project you had planned. Almost immediately after you took your shower you had called your friend in the states who knew about the documentary and about how much you already had started to like Javier during your phone calls.

But now?

Holy crap this would either be a very long and exhausting six weeks or this would be the best six weeks of your life. And you needed to let all these thoughts out before you were going out with Javier to dinner.

No. Not going out.

This was just a work dinner.

A meeting.

Going out sounded too much like a date, which it definitely wasn’t.

Which is why you did not wear the little black dress that had somehow made its way into your suitcase. You chose the light green summer dress that made your ass look great instead.

And if you spent more time on your make up and hair?

Well you were going out to a four star restaurant. That’s why you did it.

And you really didn’t do it for the look in Javier’s eyes as you opened the door, ready to join him for dinner.

You sat outside in the lush parklike garden of the hotel, enjoying the last hues of the sun warming your skin. All the way from your hotel room, throughout the lobby and into the restaurant you could feel Javier’s warmth next to you.

You didn’t know his hand had been hovering behind you all the way,

Now you were sitting across from each other, both trying desperately not to ogle each other while waiting for the drinks you had ordered and reading through the menu.

You had ordered a glass of white wine and Javier a glass of whiskey.

„The menu sounds good,“ he said finally and you looked up at him, his eyes still reading the menu.

„Yeah? I don’t think I ever had any of this except the salad,“ you said, pursing your lips.

„Really?“ He asked and you nodded.

„Even though I travel a lot for work I keep eating what I know like a true American tourist,“ you cringed and he chuckled.

„I could order for you? I know my way around the local cuisine. Or at least I did,“ he offered and you set the menu down with a smile.

„I would love that,“ you said, leaning back in your chair. He gave you a small smile before he continued to read through the menu.

„Any allergies?“ he asked.

„None that I know of,“ you said and he nodded.

You used the time the waiter took to get your drinks to look around the beautiful property, your eyes seemingly always landing back on Javier as he still read through the menu.

He had changed into a simple white polo shirt and some black jeans. You knew he must have showered, his aftershave filling the whole elevator cabin, making you positively dizzy. He smelled like he looked, sexy and a little dangerous.

„You sure?“ He asked once the waiter brought your drinks and you just nodded, listening to him as he ordered for the both of you.

Waiting until the waiter had everything written down and taken the menu’s back with him you reached for your glass of wine, bringing it up to smell it, closing your eyes.

You may not know your way around food, but wine? Yeah. You knew enough.

„Can’t believe what this place turned into,“ Javier said after a while and you looked at him as he looked around.

„In my research I learned that the old building had so much asbestos in the basement, that the renovation would have cost more than just to tore it down. That’s probably why the hotel chain got the property pretty cheap. And the location is really great. I walked toward the presidential palace earlier this week, it was so close,“ you smiled, finally taking the first sip of your wine.

„I had a lot of meetings in there,“ he sighed and you tilted your head in interest.

„What if I said we’re going in there next week?“ You pursed your lips and he raised both eyebrows.

„Really?“ He asked and you nodded.

„I haven’t told you yet but I do have some meet ups arranged throughout our time with people you have worked together. And from what I gathered from talking to them before hand you were all friendly with each other,“ you explained and he narrowed his eyes.

„I didn’t make any friends here,“ he said slowly.

„Now I know that that isn’t true. Steve Murphy and you seemed like friends,“ you said and he rolled his eyes, picking up his drink.

„He’s a fucking pain in my ass, that’s what he is,“ he snorted before he drank from his glass.

You chuckled.

„I bet the two of you were nothing but trouble working together. From what I gathered from our phone calls….“

„Honestly, and don’t tell him that. He was the best partner I could wish for out here. We went through a lot of shit out here. But he always had my back, even when I fucked up. And I really fucked up,“ he sighed.

„What did you do?“ You whispered and he looked at you, setting his glass down.

„I’m afraid, that’s classified,“ he winked and you laughed.

„Of course it is. I hope I can get some insider scoop out of your on our little journey through the drug history of this country,“ you said and he hummed, lips twitching into a grin.

„Guess you have to find a way to get your inside scoop out of me,“ he winked.

„Oh I have my ways, Agent Peña, don’t you worry,“ you winked back before you both laughed.

„We’re gonna start with you showing me your favourite places, or what’s left of them,“ you explained after you had the best empanadas you ever tasted as a first course. Javier, or Javi as he told you repeatedly to call him, told you a little about the work he was doing now, working as a consultant for the DEA in San Antonio.

He also told you he kind of hated his job, but had been doing it all his life and didn’t really know what else he could be doing instead.

„I’ve been working on movies all my life really,“ you said with a shrug after he asked how you got into your job.

„Really?“ He asked with a grin, you nodded.

„First movie I made was to blackmail my sister after I found her kissing Jimmy Miller in our garden when our mom was getting groceries,“ you said proudly and Javier laughed with a shake of his head.

„Remind me to never get on your bad side,“ he chuckled.

„It was her fault really, she broke my favourite toy,“ you chuckled too.

„God, sometimes I’m really glad I don’t have any terrorising little siblings,“ he sighs, still smiling.

„None?“ You asked, and he shook his head.

„I was a miracle baby more or less. Mama tried for a while to get pregnant and once the doctors said it was better to stop, boom, I happened. But she was already in her mid thirties which back then was… ancient to become a mother so both her and papa decided I was enough,“ he explained.

„Well, you haven’t missed anything without siblings. They’re kind of annoying, honestly,“ you say.

„You and your sister not on the best terms?“ He asked and you sighed.

„I wouldn’t say we’re on bad terms but… she’s the poster child. She went to college, married her high school love and had a baby. And because of all of that she sometimes does this thing where she tries to tell me how my life should be going. Because that’s what’s expected, right? You get married, you have the child, or children, and you life happily ever after while your husband brings home the money so you can have your picture perfect life, right?“

„If that makes someone happy, sure,“ Javi shrugged.

„Exactly. If that makes someone happy, they should do it. But I am not like that. I love my job. And if I end up falling in love and having kids, that man would have to deal with that. Cause I can’t see myself quitting my job go become a housewife,“

„I think I could become a stay at home man,“ Javi mused and you were so stunned after your little rant you could do nothing but laugh, enjoying the way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you.

„What? Don’t I seem like the type to stay at home, take care of the house, maybe the kids? All of that of course only after I trick someone into marrying me,“ he joked and you smiled softly.

„I think you’d make a great stay at home husband for a very lucky lady some day. Or man. Whatever you’re into,“ you added quickly and he laughed.

„Woman. Just women,“ he clarified quickly and you raised one eyebrow.

„Really?“ You asked and his eyes narrowed.

„What’s that tone supposed to mean?“ He wanted to know and you just hummed.

„Nothing… Just…. Surprising. I would have bet you’re into men too,“ you shrugged, and he pursed his lips, bringing one of his hands up, his fingers rubbing over his perfectly groomed moustache.

„Are you?“ He asked.

„Into men? Oh yeah,“ you winked and he huffed a laugh before he shook his head.

„Into women,“ he clarified.

„I think so. Like, I’ve never been with one, but if I end up meeting a woman and fall in love with her? Who am I to run away from that?“ You asked and he hummed.

The waiter came and took your empty dishes, informing you that the main course would be served in a couple of minutes.

„Do you…. Do you have someone at home waiting for you?“ Javier asked and you couldn’t help but smile.

„I do,“ you said seriously and you might have imagined it, but Javier’s face fell for a moment.

„His name is King George and he’s currently staying with my best friend,“ you said, his face changing into confusion.

„He’s my cat,“ you clarified and Javier released a breath he was holding in a chuckle.

„So no. No one waiting for me at home Javi,“ you smiled, „What about you?“

„No,“ he shook his head, „I think I have some issues letting people in,“ he confessed, eyes widening as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

„But that’s not something I should talk about with anyone else than my therapist or my fictional future wife with,“ he added and you smiled softly.

„It’s okay. I have the same problem. When you’ve been on your own for so long, it’s hard to do this step of letting someone in. Not just in your head and heart. But in all your routines, your house, your life, your family. It’s….. The person has to be worth it,“ you said and he nodded.

„Yeah, It’s…. It’s sometimes easier being alone than opening up to someone only to get hurt in the long run, a sentence no one at home would believe I just said,“ he chuckled to himself, picking up his drink.

„Well I get what you mean. I rather be happy alone, than miserable in a relationship. Though I have to admit there are some things I miss about it,“ you hummed, resting your arm on the table.

„Like what?“ Javi asks, interested.

You hummed.

„I miss cooking for someone. Which sounds dumb, but cooking for yourself feels like a chore. If I get to do it for someone else? Well that’s something else entirely,“ you said and Javier smiled a little.

„Yeah. I hate eating fucking microwave dinners on the couch by myself,“ he said and you chuckled.

„Exactly. Like…. I am good most times, I am happy with how my life is. I just ask myself sometimes if there’s more? Like am I going to stay alone until the day I die or is someone out there who can handle my crazy ass?“ You asked and he hummed.

„You don’t seem so crazy to me,“ he said with a small grin and you raised one of your eyebrows, challenging.

„You’ve meet me what? Six hours ago? Give it time,“ you nodded with confidence.

„I’ve known you for a couple of weeks and from what I know? I think you’re an intelligent woman that loves her job and is good at it. You’re funny and between us, you’re fucking sexy as hell,“ he said like it was the most obvious think while your eyes widened, warmth spreading over your cheeks.

You were trying to come up with a response to his words when the waiter approached, serving the main courses. Javier winked at you and you suddenly felt so hot, you were sure he could see it.

You took a deep breath, reaching for your glass of water to take some sips.

„This looks good,“ you finally said, picking up your fork.

„Yeah,“ Javi said, eyes still on you with a look you couldn’t quite place.

„Shall we eat?“ You asked and he nodded before he picked up his fork too.

You continued to talk all throughout your dinner, though you made an effort to talk more about the trip and less about your personal lives. You were not sure why, but you felt way to comfortable with Javi and opening up to him about your life.

Not that this was bad, you just didn’t want to dump everything on him. This was a job and once this was finished you would most likely never see him again. You would move on to other projects while he moved on doing god knows what.

Sighing you picked up you new drink, looking up into the by now dark night sky, Javier having left to look for the restroom some time ago.

Why were you freaking out right now?

This was a dinner. Technically a dinner with a client.

A very attractive client who kept looking at you with his big brown eyes that seemed to hold so much longing and hurt in them that you felt like you wanted to hug him and never let go of him.

There was so much more to Javier Peña that you thought in the beginning. From interviewing people in preparation for the documentary the people seem to respect him for the work he had done and was still doing, but were judging him harshly for everything else he did. Be it how he got the work done or how he spent his private life.

More than once you had heard the word manwhore when talking about him and frankly?

If you would look like him, you would be one too.

„Penny for your thoughts,“ you jumped when you heard his voice behind you, a plate of what looked like cake in his hand that he set down in front of you.

„What’s that?“ You chose to ignore his questions as he sat down across from you.

„This is Postre de natas. It’s a kind of milk pudding and it’s maybe my most favourite dessert on this planet,“ he said and you nodded.

„Where is yours then?“ You picked up your spoon.

„It was the last one, you should have it," he said with a warm smile and you found yourself smiling back.

„That’s… That’s very sweet Javi," you said softly before you brought the spoon to your lips, eyes widened when the sweetness exploded in your mouth.

„Oh this is fucking delicious,“ you hummed happily, loving the was Javi’s eyes lit up as he smiled at you. You ate almost half of it, before you sat your spoon down and pushed the plate towards him.

„You take the rest, or I will have a sugar shock that won’t let me sleep,“ you joked and he laughed quietly before he started to eat, a long moan escaping his lips as he tasted the first spoon.

He closed his eyes in complete bliss while you schooled your whole demeanour to not react to how watching Javier eat his dessert felt like watching porn.

He licked his lips, humming to himself, sighing at every taste.

„I feel like I should give you two some privacy,“ you finally found the words to tease him and his eyes dropped open, looking at you before you saw his cheeks flush a little.

„I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. This might be the closest I got to having sex in a long time,“ he said, chuckling and your eyes widened, before you laughed.

„Guess I gotta find myself a desert that’s that good, huh?“ You joked and he licked his lips, having finished the dessert.

„Or someone to have sex with,“ he shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

"Like it’s that easy,“ you said and he pursed his lips, eyes playful.

„The guy at the bar has been eyefucking you all night,“ he said and you were about to turn your head to look when he stopped you.

„Don’t look. He’s not worth your time,“ he said and you titled your head.

„And how do you know that?“ You asked and he smirked.

„Saw his dick in the bathroom, he was next to me. Trust me, he is not worth it,“ he said seriously and your lips parted in shock before you giggled.

„Oh my god,“ you shook your head and he grinned.

„This is the weirdest business dinner I’ve ever had in my life,“ you still laughed, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

„Well this has been the best dinner I’ve had since I can remember, so thank you for that,“ he said and your smile at him softened.

The waiter approached, asking if you wanted to order anything else but you shook your head, much like Javi before you asked him to bill the dinner to your room.

Both Javi and you emptied your drinks before you both decided it was time to head back to your rooms.

You walked through the restaurant back towards the elevators, walking close by each other. You couldn’t help sucking your lip in to hide your laughter when you past the man Javi had talked about sitting at the bar, nodding at you with a grin.

Even if he was attractive, all you could think about was what Javier had said about him and you had a hard time not bursting out in giggles all the way to the elevators. When you risked a glance at Javier he was grinning too and you both chuckled as the elevator door opened. He waited for you to step in, following you, standing beside you as you pressed the button to the floor.

You didn’t know if it was seeing the guy, being so close to Javi or the three drinks you had but you found yourself asking „So if he’s not worth my time, how do you compare to him?“

You saw him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, before his tongue dared out to lick over his bottom lip.

He was about to answer when the elevator doors opened, having reached your floor. This time he put his hand on your lower back as he led you out of the elevator, slowly walking up the hallway towards your room.

You were already fiddling with your key when he stopped in front of your hotel room door.

„I’e be definitely worth your time,“ he finally said and you looked up at him.

„Yeah?“ You asked, voice just above a whisper. He nodded.

„And not just because my dick is bigger than his,“ he said, before he slowly leaned down to kiss your forehead. Your eyes widened, processing his words as he reached for your room key, unlocking the door for you.

„I’ll see you at breakfast?“ He asked and you dumbly nodded, before you slowly walked into your room.

„Sweet dreams," he winked as he pulled your door closed and only then did you realise that you had held your breath.

„I am in so much fucking trouble,“ you mumbled to yourself with disbelieving laugh, looking forward to what the next few weeks would bring.

next chapter

Taglist (please send me an ask if you want to be added to the LCC Taglist, I only have a taglist for this series, not for all of my works)

@pasc4lfuzz// @kirsteng42 // @imdreaminghere // @greenwitchfromthewoods // @theorganasolo // @inept-the-magnificent // @maried01 // @nationallampoonlemmings // @sunnytuliptime// @desuidesu // @galway-girlatwork // @missladym1981 // @bergamote-catsandbooks

#lcc series #my fic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #narcos fanfiction

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i-get-obsessed-fast · 2 days ago

Note

So may or may not be self indulgent, but i just got done with a fantasy map for a progect im working on and i picture early seasons reid reading in the living room as i do it and after he finishes the series (bro reads 8 books in a sitting) he comes into the kitchen for a snack and seeing my very elaborate map making, complete with a coffee paper dye system and hes like ".....so THIS is what authors do when they get writers block" and the moment we call it stupid and childish he gets very personally involved in world building with us because creativity is nice

Omg this request is so interesting! I want to apologize firstly because I don’t know anything about fantasy maps so I kept it short & simple, I really do hope you enjoy it though! <3

Fantasy | Spencer Reid

The sound of a book snapping shut echos from the living room, followed by a satisfied sigh. Spencer must have finished reading the last book in his series - that he had started today.

Meanwhile, the kitchen table is a complete mess, sheets of paper, stained with coffee dye for an “authentic” aged effect, are spread out in front of you. Smudges of ink cover your fingers.

It started as a small distraction, something to break through your stubborn writer's block, or maybe it was procrastination, but either way, now it’s grown into a full-blown map-making operation.

You’re adding tiny rivers when Spencer finally wanders in, probably in search for a snack. He pauses, his eyes narrowing at the scene.

“Huh, so this is what authors do when they get writers block.”

You glance up at him, already grinning. “Caught me.” He steps closer, tilting his head as he examined the coffee stained papers. “You dyed these yourself?”

“Yup, authentic.”

“And the mountain ranges? The contour lines?” He study’s the paper, his fingers tracing over your work. “I got a little carried away.” You nervously laugh.

“So, you’re building an entire world instead of writing about it?” He looked at you, teasingly.

“Pretty much.” You tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear leaving a small mark on your cheek. “It’s stupid.” You add quickly. “And childish.”

“What, Childish?” He frowns. “A lot of creative authors do this. You’re constructing a geographical foundation, which is essential for world-building.” He leans over, his eyes scanning along a winding river.

“This isn’t procrastination, this is immersive, it’s…impressive.”

The warmth of his words catches you off-guard, but before you can respond, he pulls out a chair and settles in, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright.” He says completely serious.

“You’re missing a key. And borders. And I assume there are neighboring kingdoms? Trade routes? You’ll need those.”

You laugh, warmth filling your chest. “Alright captain Reid, any more ideas?” You giggle as you take a seat right next to him, the both of you getting lost in the world of fantasy map making. . .

Thank you for requesting!

I am going to get to the other req’s soon, thank you to all who read, like, and reblog. It means a lot!!

#criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fandom

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zuzuelectricbugaloo · 3 days ago

Text

Anatopic Anachronism

Pairings: Sans/Sans, Eventual Crepic

Rating: Teen

Synopsis: Chaos Theory is in full swing: instead of creating Epictale Papyrus when Epic was in his twenties, Epictale Gaster grows impatient in ushering humanity's destruction and creates Packs when Epic is thirteen -- more than a decade earlier than canon -- and decides to implant the Eye into Epic at this age. The repercussions of this action will echo through time and space.

CW: Canonical child experimentation, child abuse, blood, intense violence near the end

Word Count: 5, 438

Chapter 1: A Butterfly Flapped Its Wings

A small carpet was laid on a concrete floor. It's decorated as a pixelated mimicry of the night sky from the Surface. Something Sans had been fascinated with after he’d learned about space and the stars above from their tales of the Surface, from movies and books he watched and read. Mew Mew had discovered it in the Dump during her latest excursion there and later offered the rug as a gift to Sans during the last ghost family movie night, knowing how little the brothers had and unable to do much for their situation but this.

In the corner of the barren room was a single mattress with a blanket Lara had sewn. The Royal guardswoman had gifted that to the brothers to be sure they were no longer cold at night. It was made of soft, fluffy fleece, dyed a rich violet (Sans’s favorite color), and decorated with white butterflies.

When Sans had questioned why butterflies, because sure, he thought they were pretty, but didn’t have much attachment to them otherwise, her response had been, “For my dear nephew, as lovely as a butterfly,” Lara smiled kindly. “To remember that there is always beauty at the end of all pain.”

Butterflies became his favorite insect after that.

The only other furniture besides the mattress was a small wooden cabinet. It contained books Sans had been gifted or borrowed from the library through one of his fa — his creator’s followers and a few toys he’d made for himself and his baby brother.

Resting atop the cabinet was a small, square device Napstablook had found from the Dump and helped patch up with Mettaton. The shy ghost had gifted the tiny pod and a set of custom headphones they’d designed for Sans for his birthday. It was full of music from the Surface, as well as a few original songs made by the ghost themself.

The room was both a home and an enclosure, far too small and empty for one, let alone two, young monsters to cohabitate, and yet they did.

Sans sat on the floor of their cell, Papyrus perched in his lap. Papyrus struggled with speech and writing, so their past few weeks together had been dedicated to practicing the alphabet after drawing and playing cards.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Sans praised, beaming along with the toddler when he finished coloring and tracing the letter ‘A’. “That’s ah, ah, apple! Good job sweetie. Now, can you show me “B”? How do you do buh?”

The child concentrated, sockets narrowing in concentration as he meticulously traced Sans’s writing until he’d filled the line. Finished, he turned his skull to watch him expectantly and pointed. “Buh! Buh!”

“It is!” Sans agreed. “Now,” He wrote the next letter. “Can you do “C” for me?”

Papyrus quickly set to work, speeding down the line as fast as his tiny carpals could manage.

When he finished, his efforts were recognized and commended. “Way to go superstar! Now, we’re gonna keep going, okay?”

It’s because he was cheered on and supported that Papyrus, albeit tired, nodded anyway, eyes sparkling determinedly. “Ah!”

“That’s right, and when we’re all done, we can play, okay?”

“Ah!”

And so the time went, Sans patiently waiting for his brother until he’d completed the entire alphabet down the page. As soon as the last “Z” was traced, Sans cheered, lauding Papyrus’s accomplishments with boisterous whoops and whistles. “You did it! Good job little brother!”

He swooped in, hugging and rocking Papyrus tight as they celebrated. Papyrus babbled, cheerful nonsense quickly derailing to screeching giggles as Sans began to lift him and toss him into the air, catching him as he fell.

“Who’s a hard-working little babybones? You are! Yes, you are! Good boy!”

Papyrus laughed, bright and sweet like a ringing bell. Sans’s grin was broad and happy, full of pride and adoration for his baby brother. “Now as promised, you wanna fly?”

Papyrus nodded, waving his arms so fast in anticipation that he nearly knocked himself over. “Yuh! Yuh!”

“Okay,” Sans’s eyes glowed soft sapphire, his magic thrumming to life. “Hold on tigh—” “Asset.”

He froze immediately. Blindsided, his magic flared too fast for him to hold back as he prioritized his brother over his control. He caught Papyrus and held him tight as his amorphous magic morphed into a bone attack that hurled itself at the source of his fear.

It was suddenly quiet, far too quiet, save for the ringing in his ear canals. Sans’s Soul pounded behind his ribs like the frantic beating of a small bird’s wings.

Terror was a thick wedge lodged in his throat that he couldn’t swallow back. His arms trembled but his hold remained firm on Papyrus as he met his creator’s annoyed frown.

Mettaton stood behind him and to the side, arms crossed respectfully behind his back. His glasses were his mask and revealed nothing about what this unexpected interruption would entail. The robot waited silently. Sans’s eyes fluttered from him to Gaster and back before finally settling on the royal scientist.

Gaster had caught the bone attack in his hand and stared, unimpressed, at the tiny bone trapped in his gloved hand. “All that training,” Gaster’s grip tightened, easily crushing the bone to dust that he let fall to the floor. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a disappointed sigh. “And your magic is still this weak.”

The guilt of his constant inadequacy and this latest failure stung, roiling his nonexistent gut. “I’m sorry sir.”

At least he remembered this lesson: never call Gaster father, only when princess Toriel and or her companions were present was he allowed that privilege.

Gaster nodded approvingly. “Do better. Now,” Gaster beckoned, curling his expectantly. “Come here, Sans.”

Mettaton held out his arms.

Apprehension was serpents slithering over his bones, coiling tight around his body and weighing down his limbs. Tightening his false throat, but he’d learned to breathe through the pain, and nodded, obediently crossing the room to hand Papyrus over to Mettaton it would be okay, Metta would keep him as safe as he could and stood respectfully before his creator.

He waited, keeping his skull bowed in deference. He knew to expect something, and even with that forethought, he tensed when Gaster’s hand cupped his jaw and lifted his head to stare into his eyes.

The older skeleton bent at the waist to meet Sans’s height. Gaster’s grip on Sans’s mandible was tight, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as the experiments he’d conducted on his Soul, so Sans held still. Keeping his discomfort silent as he obediently remained in place. His Soul pounded in his chest as his fa— his creator inspected him.

He tilted Sans’s skull slowly, his eyelights burning into his own.

Sans swallowed, the sound deafening in his mind. Unable to handle the sole focus of those cold eyes, he shifted his orbs to the side. His eyes flickered off the side to Mettaton. Papyrus was cradled in his arms, his arms gripping the lapels of Mettaton’s coat as he watched in concern as Sans was trapped observed.

Sans met Mettaton’s optics, his true emotions concealed within his glasses.

“Look at me, Asset.”

He knew better than to disobey.

His eyelights immediately returned to Gaster. “Y-yes, sir?” He tried not to move, but when Gaster brought his hand into view Sans flinched. His Soul battered his ribs. He expected a sudden attack, a precipitated assault to test his physical endurance and STATS or a punishment for a failure or act of disobedience his mind simply couldn’t ascertain in this moment of ice-cold terror—

Instead, Gaster simply traced the rims of his sockets with his gloved thumbs, surprising both himself and his robotic friend inspector. “Sir?” Mettaton dared to question.

Sans dared not move.

Another eternity seemed to pass before Gaster seemingly found whatever he’d been searching for, nodding to himself as he let go of Sans and returned to his full height. “It will do.”

Sans flinched when his gloved hand patted the top of his skull. “You may resume your leisurely activities. I’ve decided your brother’s analysis is not needed at this moment.”

Small, breathless relief. A small mercy, but a beggar could never be a chooser. “Thank you, sir. But, why?”

Sans was grateful, and he knew Gaster’s temperament could change, but if he could know how to keep Gaster from needing to experiment on Papyrus, he would do it in a Soulbeat.

Carefully, he asked, “What made you change your mind?”

Gaster’s mouth quirked in a smile that was anything but comforting. Cold shivers trailed down Sans’s spine. “I have a use of you that Papyrus cannot fulfill at the moment.”

He turned, an arm clasped to his back as he waved.

“You are dismissed from your duties for the evening, Mettaton.”

The robot bowed his head. “Thank you, Sir.”

“And you may resume your leisurely activities for the night until Soul analysis in the morning, Sans.”

“Yes, sir.”

Both the robot and skeleton didn’t require air to survive, yet they held obsolete breaths and did not gasp for air until long after the royal scientist had left the room.

Sans’s extremities trembled, his Soulbeat still wild from his upset nerves. He reached out to Mettaton and gratefully accepted Papyrus as the toddler all but launched himself into his brother’s arms. Sans held Papyrus tight, squeezing him as carefully as he could as he tried to calm the upset infant and ease his frightened self.

“Sh, sh, it’s okay sweetie, it’s okay.” “Muhmuh! Muhmuh!”

“No experiments tonight for me,” Sans promised. He kissed his brother’s foreskull and soothingly rubbed the back of his onesie. “Okay?”

Papyrus sniffled, mind far too young to truly comprehend their situation, but was upset his brother was upset. He clung to Sans, rubbing his crying face into his chest as Sans soothed him.

Sans tilted his gaze back to Mettaton. “Any ideas what that was about?”

He shrugged, expression blank, almost a successful, unfeeling mask of cold indifference.

But Sans’s survival had hinged on discerning the hidden. Had learned to find what was hidden from sight. He knew from the tension riddling the robot’s broad shoulders and the way his mouth pursed that he’d been just as unsettled as Sans.

Truthfully, Mettaton answered. “I don’t know.” He pushed his glasses up his nasal ridge. “It may have been an impromptu health inspection, it wouldn’t be the first.”

Gaster had always been odd, his treatment of Sans no outlier from his usual discompassionate behavior. He’d torn into Sans’s very Soul before, had stuck his bones with wires and metallic prods to see how dust and magic given sentience functioned, to increase his unusually low STATS to no avail.

Still, the way Gaster had stared at his eyes, observing the glow of his eyelights…

Mettaton often felt that trying to read his superior was like trying to decipher an amorphous painting of a jagged puzzle. Whatever his true machinations, they would remain an enigma, knowable only to the royal scientist himself.

He ignored the dread that pooled in his gut and instead stood sentry quietly, staring into the cell and noting the activities of the young skeletons as they played together.

He was likely worrying for naught. After all, they were merely children. They were far too young for any fully lethal inquisitions. It was a minor comfort, but it was all Mettaton had. This was his penance for becoming unwittingly attached to the babybones.

Everything would be fine.

…Right?

The way Gaster’s eyes had watched Sans would not leave his mind. Like the boy was something for him to prod, to tear him apart piece by piece and see how every part of him worked. As though the child was a piece of metal to sink his claws into and rip and slice until he was so broken the doctor had to put him back together again and not a sentient monster.

Mettaton decided to stay later than usual.

Something made the robot stay, even as Blooky called him and asked if he’d be home soon. He couldn’t explain the feeling, that he was missing something important. That something was happening. A crucial piece of a puzzle, the final clue to an unsolved riddle.

Papyrus shifted in his sleep. He turned on his side and yawned. The sight was made more adorable with his unformed mandible as he nuzzled into his blanket. The butterflies Lara had sewn shifted with his movement, meeting Mettaton’s gaze. Sans sat beside him on the bed, not quite ready for sleep. He patted the babybones’s back, rubbing softly until Papyrus’s squirming stilled and he slept calmly once more.

Mettaton stayed even as most of the followers began to leave for their homes.

His auditory processors picked up movement down the hall. Mettaton turned to the direction of the sound and watched as a follower went into the lab. The Doctor requested Sans’s presence.

He and Sans shared a look.

Sans gently stroked the top of Papyrus’s skull. He leaned down, kissing the top of his head, and kissed him goodnight, promising he’d return.

He trailed behind the follower, the cuffs of his pyjama bottoms (one of three of the only clothes he had) scuffing against the floor. His eyes never left Mettaton’s, even as they flickered pointedly to Papyrus’s slumbering form. Not until Mettaton subtly titled his head in a brisk nod Sans returned.

And then he was gone.

Mettaton never possessed lungs, not even when he was incorporeal. And yet as the minutes ticked by, he felt as though the metaphysical organs were squeezed tight to steal breath the robot never needed. He waited, counting down the time that passed in his central unit processor.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Twenty.

At the half-hour mark, his internal fans had blasted on. His nerves were overheating his internal systems as his power dampener worked overtime.

When Mettaton considered risking a trip to the lab, hiding Papyrus away in the compact storage unit of his abdomen, Sans returned.

Tension riddling his robotic frame eased as his shoulders fell. His optics scanned the young skeleton as he approached the cell the room.

His STATS remained the same, HP troublingly still 1 but otherwise no detected damage to his Soul—

Both his palms were now hollowed.

Sans quirked his mouth to a half-grin as he entered the room, the door closing shut behind him. The rims of his sockets were lined with unshed tears. “Hey Metta. ‘S all good. Turns out he needed my other hand for a project, ‘s’all.”

Mettaton’s mouth opened and closed. Everything was blank. Muted. Numb.

Dampened by his glasses siphoning away the emotions as they surged.

“I…see. Did he mention what project it was?”

“To be the base of a weapon, I think? Something for the Barrier.” Exhaustion riddled the boy’s body, but his smile was small and relieved and belonged to someone with far more years than a young face. “Not for another skeleton.”

Relief returned breath he didn’t need, Soul feeling so much lighter than it had in the last few hours.

“That’s something.” Papyrus hadn’t been hurt as Sans had, but both knew there was only so much one could do to delay the inevitable.

Papyrus was a blessing, made Sans so happy and life a little less awful, but Sans hated the thought of another skeleton being ushered into creation to suffer the same awful fate as his. Mettaton knew the same. Sans nodded, agreeing in this unspoken truth. “Yeah.”

Mettaton didn’t say anything else.

No words would — could — have helped, anyway.

Sans crawled into the bed and hugged Papyrus tight. The baby curled into his chest, resting his skull into the crook of the young teenager’s neck. “Night, Metta.”

“...Goodnight, Sans.”

Mettaton left the two brothers behind, night finally concluded.

And still, the unsettling feeling remained.

⏮ ﹏﹏﹏﹏ ✬ ﹏﹏﹏﹏ ⏭

A butterfly perches, settling itself comfortably onto a lilac stalk. It is worn and tired, its body weak from exertion, but now, after a long journey, it has earned its moment of repose.

Curling its tongue through tickling pollen, it drinks, every drop of saccharine nectar that trickles into its mouth and down its throat tangible rejuvenation. Soothing away its pains and aches until it had its fill.

Hunger appeased, its antennae curl in slaked delight.

Glittering wings sparkle beneath the midday sun. Every beautiful pattern is adorned with such intricate detail that its patterns are art given life, its colors painted onto a canvas made of love.

Among a field of lilacs, atop a lavender flower, the butterfly flaps its wings.

Elsewhere, shrouded in darkness, a vengeful man poisoned by grief tainted–hate, loomed before a series of complex machinery in a hidden laboratory. Screens illuminated his stony complexion, shadows ominously highlighting contoured bone as eyes without soul light stared at a series of repeating numbers.

His stare was empty, celebrations unknown to his robotic colleague that stood off to his side. The room they're in is lit only by the screens above them, monitors casting an unnatural light on themselves and their immediate surroundings.

The innocuous numerical arrays reflected a series of findings all concluding the same frustratingly inconclusive answer. Where certainty in a single definitive answer for their findings was the desired outcome, what was instead presented was the same frustrating, indubitable truth: they all lived in their future tomb.

Only a source of power equipollent to seven human Souls could eradicate the barrier that entrapped monsterkind. Despite the magic that powered them and formed their bodies, despite all their talents and unique manas diversified in unique gifts per species, monsters were powerless against the Barrier. Not even all the Souls of the Underground amalgamated could ravage it.

The silence was deafening. His Soul encased in involute machinery felt colder, heavier, far more compressed and suffocated by the stifling gravity that surrounded the taller monster than the metal body the robot possessed.

A picture of a mere child the Asset captioned by lines of code stares back at them through the largest monitor.

The longer the uncomfortable silence dragged, the more Mettaton's synthetic flesh prickled the longer his optics watched Gaster's shadowed complexion stare at Sa—the Asset—

Mettaton pushed his spectacles further up his nasal ridge, the itching sensation buzzing over his synthetic skin quickly facilitating a minor discomfort as the disguised power dampener siphoned his emotions.

“Mettaton.”

His Soul jumped in surprise at the abrupt sound of his name following such a prolonged moment of disquiet.

“Yes Doctor?” Monotone, Gaster drawled, "What is the Barrier?"

...Huh?

Mettaton blinked. "Pardon?"

"What is the Barrier?" Gaster repeated. His eyes remain unmoved from the screen.

Uncertain of what the Doctor’s end goals were, Mettaton answered what they both knew all too well. “The metaphysical spheroid boundary encapsulating the entirety of the Underground.”

“And what created the Barrier?” “Seven human mages during the Monster-Human War. Sir, my apologies, but what—” “And what is more powerful than a barrier?”

Dubious of his colleague’s intentions in this unusual line of questioning, Mettaton frowned as he resumed his explanation. “The only current known method of destroying the Barrier is—”

“—No,” Gaster interrupted. “Not the Barrier. A barrier. How would you go about obliterating the single most infuriating obstacle in your way? Something that requires a sheer level of power you don’t possess?” “Use something nigh omnipotent to compete with its caliber, perhaps?”

“Indeed.”

Soft and dull, Gaster’s gloved digits type on his keyboard. The dulled tap tap taps joined the ambiance of internal fans cooling heated metal as Mettaton watched new schematics appear on the monitor beside the Asset. His optics could zoom in and enhance the imagery his current perceptive limits provided, but wi—

“Have I ever told you of the Void?” Mettaton shook his head. “Not that I can recall, Doctor.”

“The Void is a parallel dimension to our own, inaccessible save for minute distortions in time.” “Ah, so, there are holes in this Void?” “Yes, where creatures could travel between dimensions.”

“Hypothetically, of course.” Gaster merely hummed. His eyelights were far too knowing, glowing with something Mettaton couldn’t name but the mere view of those searing orbs sent shivers down his spine. “Yes, of course.”

Gaster resumed his typing. “Existing as a dimension outside of reality, think of the possibilities. Why worry about the rules of the Barrier when the Void operates contrariwise to reality and the very laws it had enforced for itself and all that live within it?”

“I’m afraid I’m not following, sir.” “Why waste our efforts on building a power source to destroy the Barrier…when we can simply channel a far more powerful source that’s already in existence?” A definitive ding, and suddenly, holographs floated above them both, surrounding the skeleton and android monsters. Mettaton’s eyelights flew from the schematics to his gesticulating boss.

“Harness the Void, and we might not need to destroy the Barrier. We might even be able to move the Underground right out of it.”

“It…It sounds too good to be true,” Mettaton replied carefully. His wiring thrummed with nervous mana. His thoughts were slowly connecting, the picture Gaster was painting just out of reach, but the more he heard, the more it slowly came together, and the more inexplicable dread made his Soul run cold.

“I’ve studied the Void, and while direct access to it would lead to shattering across time and space, with a proper channel in place, the Void can be managed. Harnessed.” Gaster’s face contorted, his permasmile widening impossibly, his eyelights smoldering in fanatical intensity. “We can control the intangible made tangible; manipulate the ether to our very needs.”

A butterfly perched atop a lilac stalk flutters its wings.

“And what better channel is there than a vessel?” A holograph containing the picture of a young skeleton monster with lifeless eyes stared back at them. He hadn’t been present the day the picture was taken. He’d only been an assistant then. That day, he had been relegated to janitorial duties when Sans’s Soul was opened not for the last time but was for the first time directly transfused with the essence of other monsters’.

Mettaton had been deep in the royal scientist’s office, several floors away from the lab, and could still hear the young boy’s scream as clear as day.

No matter how much he forced his glasses on, had forcefully shut down his processing systems for stasis, the sound still haunted his auditory processors. Those eyes after had never been the same, had never shined as bright with the innocence of youth that Papyrus's still held.

Even when Gaster had cored the center of Sans’s palm to create Papyrus, the boy had not made a sound. Had only winced with eyes glistening with unshed tears. Yet he did not cry, had not sobbed.

All at once, everything connected. The tests Gaster had conducted on Sans’s Soul, the experiments on his mana, on his intellect, why he had cored Sans’s other palm the past week.

“Hey, Metta. ‘S all good. Turns out he needed my other hand for a project, ‘s’all.”

“I…see. Did he mention what project it was?”

Blueprints of an organ, of an eye, stare back at him.

The final picture painted the portrait of a child created with no other purpose but to fulfill the needs and aspirations of others glowed forebodingly in the dimly lit room.

A half-truth. Sans’s recently hollowed palm hadn’t been for the creation of another skeleton.

It had been for the transformation of one already created.

Mettaton gaped. “I — you don’t mean…?” He trailed off. Hoping to the stars above that he was wrong, that it was so much worse in his mind than in reality.

Gaster continued, “I can start the procedure as early as tomorrow.” As if he was talking about something as asinine as the weather and not plans for mutilating a child’s body. “Interestingly enough, Papyrus was born with the schematics in his Code for his Eye and so has one naturally.”

“Sir.”

“I’ve had the blueprints for the Eyes for quite some time,” Gaster admitted, “but hadn’t tried encoding them into Sans during his Souling phase. I thought it would be best to wait, that there would be a higher success rate in development should the Code be added post-production.”

“Sir, I—”

“It could explain the variation between the two subjects. Papyrus’s STATS are far more impressive than Sans’s when he was his age, and yet his intellect is nowhere near as advanced as Sans’s had been and is.”

“Doctor—”

Gaster tapped his chin in thought. “Hmmm. Yes. Perhaps early Coding the Eye into Papyrus is what impaired his mental development while conversely advancing his mana and physical body development. It would also explain how Papyrus holds no source code for blasters, unlike Sans, who possesses that along with our skeletal subspecies’ code for teleportation.”

The skeleton waved his arms, shifting holographs to the side and fixing his notes. “All the better now that the Code has been edited and perfected. Sans is sure to gain some if not most control over the Void once the channel is implanted—”

Having had enough, Mettaton yelled, “Dr. Gaster!”

Gaster paused, brow quirking in surprise. “Yes?” He indulged Mettaton’s outburst.

Mettaton’s glasses slipped, resting in the middle of his nasal ridge as he pleaded emphatically. “Sir, Sans is a mere child! His mana network is underdeveloped at thirteen years old, who knows what devastating consequences this could have on him, let alone on his mind — !”

Gaster waved his hand dismissively. “If you are concerned with numbers, I’ve already run through the probabilities. Risk assessment yielded a measly 5% chance of dusting upon insertion and an insignificant 1% chance of falling down after the transplantation adjustment period—”

“Sir, please!” Sans’s mana was so weak, there was no way he would survive without irreversible damage to his mind. He held only 1 HP, the lowest of any monster, the lowest Mettaton had ever seen throughout his centuries of life. “If this project is so urgent, why not perform it on one whose magics are already fully developed, on an adult containing abundant reserves?!”

“The Asset was built for this very purpose. His body was crafted to be an avatar. Any one else save perhaps myself would have their Code overrun with viruses until it deleted itself and they dusted.”

Mettaton’s glasses continued to slowly descend, the robot’s distress mounting.

“His chosen identity was admittedly a surprise, but in the end a negligible variable with no consequence of import—”

“Do you hear yourself?! Sans is a child, not some puppet for you to commandeer! His mind and body will break from channeling such a vast source of magic, let alone the strain of conducting an entire dimension—!”

“I would carry it myself, but it needs to acclimate to a host first before I can use it,” Gaster explained, unperturbed. “And once more, I was not created for this purpose. Sans was.”

Mettaton’s glasses clattered to the floor.

He exploded, stalking towards the skeleton and extending his legs’ cables until he matched the surprised doctor’s height. “Even if Sans survives, you are hinging his mental stability and development on what?! On a gamble to control something you barely understand and was never meant to be manipulated!”

Gaster narrowed his sockets. “Watch yourself, Mettaton.”

He disregarded the warning. Haunted eyes, an agonized scream, a young boy so used to discomfort he didn’t cry when his hands were mutilated—

“Your hubris is unmatched! Risking a life — a child’s life — as a power ploy to satisfy your goddamned ego in the name of monsterkind!” He ranted, internal fans on overdrive as he boiled with outrage and despair.

“I had hoped you would’ve gained some compassion for your son, now sons, after self-reflection in your mourning, but it seems all Moopy’s death has done is make you even more of a heartless bastard—!”

An abrupt squeezing sensation around his Soul was the only warning he had before gravity magic surrounded his form and threw him into the wall.

It was made of steel and concrete and didn’t create a single crack as Mettaton’s metal bent and broke upon impact. He couldn’t get up, didn’t have time to before Gaster was on him.

His eyelights were extinguished, his face blurring as Mettaton was grabbed by the throat and slammed repeatedly onto the floor.

Stars burst in his vision.

Mettaton couldn’t summon his magic in defense and wasn’t spared the chance.

Gaster threw him to the concrete by his neck, slamming his skull onto the concrete with so much concussive force his synthetic skin peeled away with every blow.

The royal scientist trembled, enraged, wide mouth parted in a vicious snarl as he broke Mettaton bit by bit. His seething words accompanied every blow.

“NEVER.”

“SPEAK.”

“HER.”

“NAME.”

Mettaton choked.

The attack had ceased but Gaster’s grip around his throat did not lessen.

Blood pooled out his mouth. Broken wires sparked and leaked life essence.

Gaster’s muscular form shook as he crouched above Mettaton, holding him down, daring him to shove him off as he pressed him into the ground. Mettaton couldn’t move him if he tried.

“If you ever, ever, dare to say her name again,” Gaster breathed, “or use her memory against me,” Every whispered word dripped with venom. Cruel Intent so potent it physically poisoned the robot, curling deep into his wires and sinking into his Soul.

“I will have you and your family join your deceased clan in death. Repeating history and dying the same death by intangibly crossing the Barrier. Do I make myself clear, ghost?”

Mettaton’s jaw had been destroyed. His speaker was all he had to project his voice through damaged vocals.

“Ye-e-e-e-s-s,” he rasped.

“Yes, what?”

His laborious breaths staggered, gargling on blood. “Ye-e-e-e-s-s, D-d-d-oct-o-o-or Ga-sss-te-ee-r.”

The skeleton let go, throwing him to the side.

Mettaton lay in a crumpled heap. Unmoving.

Gaster stood to his full height. He sneered down at the beaten robot.

He fixed his loosened tie and then patted down his disheveled coat. Without looking behind him, he called out to his uninvited spectator.

Or should he say, specter?

“Napstablook.”

The ghost peeked out from their hiding spot behind a monitor. Their floating form trembled. “Y-yes?”

“You’re here to pick up your cousin to take home, are you not?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then do so.” Gaster noticed the right side of Mettaton’s face had peeled off. He placed it beneath his shoe and crushed the injured side until it caved in. Napstablook whimpered behind him. “Inform him once he’s recovered that he will not be allowed to return to work until he’s fixed himself up.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He strode out of the lab to retreat to his private quarters for the night.

Napstablook waited until they were certain he was gone before they zoomed over to their cousin. Their fallen tears floated in the air as they sobbed and nuzzled their cousin’s face. “Mettaton! Mettaton, are you okay?!”

Mettaton couldn’t move. Speaking itself was a herculean effort. But he had to comfort his frightened family. “N-e-e-eeeeed r-e-eeeeee-epa—a–rs.”

Lara and Mad Mew Mew would be startled to see him in this state, he thought idly. But at least then Mew Mew wouldn’t demand he spar with her for a little while.

Napstablook wasted no time.

Magic surrounded his body, cold and familiar and soothing and safe. Mettaton didn’t protest when Napstablook made him float, turning him intangible and quickly flying the both of them out of the lab and home as fast as he could.

Mettaton’s optics were damaged, but not blinded. He recognized that cell even when errors and hazard signs flooded his sight.

Without his glasses, his guilt and regret poured out of his eyes. His tears fell, joining drops of his spilled blood on the floor. His sorrow was a deep ache in his Soul as he closed his eyes, the skeletons’ room growing farther out of sight.

I’m sorry, Sans.

Mettaton cried, acid tears burning his broken metal body. I can’t stop this. I can’t even be there to offer you comfort when it happens.

I’m sorry.

His glasses lay on the concrete, surrounded by blood, dust, and broken metal.

Oblivious, two young brothers slumbered peacefully, unaware of the events that had transpired.

Unaware that this would be the night before their lives changed forevermore.

Far away, in a peaceful field of lilacs, a butterfly flapped its wings.

Credit to @fisheebonez for the amazing cover art for this fic! Please go and commission him if you can so you can ^v^

#my writing #crepic fic #cw child abuse #cw child experimentation #cw blood #epictale ghost fam #epictale #epic sans #packs papyrus #epictale mettaton

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kitsune-writes · 3 days ago

Text

Cramps

Staw hats x ftm reader platonic

Summary: reader has period cramps and the crew helps him feel better

I sat next to Nami leaning my head against her side, she sat in one of the lawn chairs sunbathing. Robin sat in the one next to her reading.

“Are you alright y/n?”

I looked up seeing Robin had discarded her book on the table next to her and she and Nami had turned their attention towards me.

“…I started bleeding today…” y/n mumbled just loud enough for the two to hear.

“Oh, cramps?” Nami brushed her hand through my hair gently combing it out of my face. I nodded my head in agreement and she hummed.

“Do you want me to get Sanji to make a heating pad for you?”

“…yeah”

Nami got up and dragged me up with her, I followed behind her to the kitchen wishing I could rip out my reproductive organs.

Nami opened the door holding it for me before turning her attention to the cook.

“Oh Sanji” Nami had that sweet tone in her voice that she used only when she wanted something from somebody, not that she needed to use it with Sanji he’d do anything she asked regardless.

Sanji turned away from whatever he was doing (probably this morning’s dishes) with hearts already in his eyes, he wiggled his way over to where we stood saying something I didn’t bother to listen to.

“Can you warm up a heating pad for y/n please-oh and make him that tea you like making me and Robin”

“Of course Nami-swan~”

Nami ignored Sanji and walked me over to the couch. “Do you want me to see if Chopper has any pain meds?”

“Yeah, thank you”

“Of course, I’ll be right back”

Nami left quickly to go find the ship’s doctor, leaving me alone with Sanji. Taking a glance over to him he was busy making some brightly colored drinks probably for the girls. He also had a kettle on the stove With a mug sitting not too far from it.

Nami came back a few minutes later. She grabbed a glass from one of the cupboards and filled it with water. She grabbed the heating pad from Sanji then came back over to me.

“Here” she handed over the cup and the pain meds from Chopper. “These should help”

“Thanks” I grabbed them from her and took the pills, after I finished the glass she took it from me and handed it over to Sanji who took it without a second thought.

“And here’s this” she handed me the pad. “I’ll be out on the deck if you need anything else ok?” I nodded and with that she left again.

Having nothing better to do I curled up on the couch waiting for the meds to kick in, hopefully soon.

The kitchen was nice, it had a lot of natural light and it didn’t blind you like it did outside. The sound of Sanji working on the other side of the kitchen was comforting mixed with the muffled sounds of Bink's brew and Luffy’s ocasional laugh outside.

“-you ok?”

I jumped at the sound of Sanji’s voice bringing me back to the present. “Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine.

Sanji handed me the mug he was holding before sitting down next to me.

“Careful it’s still hot.”

“Thanks…”

I cradled the warm mug in my hands, the tea was steaming proving to still be too hot to drink.

“Are you sure you’re alright?

My gaze fell back into Sanji but before I could answer he was talking again. “Sorry I know you already answered…. but you never asked for my help with these things and you told me you didn’t want me to coddle you like I do with the ladies…”

“It’s alright, I don’t normally get cramps so usually I don’t need all of this, it’s nice though so thanks.”

”Yeah-oh I think I have-“ Sanji got off the couch and pulled open one of the cupboards under it and pulled out a blanket. “Um if you want it…”

I set the mug down and grabbed the blanket from Sanji.

One second Sanji was rambling about one of his recipes and the next I was being woken up by the sound of arguing. Through blurry vision I could make out one green blob and one yellow blob clearly Zoro and Sanji.

“-and why not!”

“Because it’s my good stuff and I don’t want to waste it on you!”

When my vision cleared I could see that they were fighting about a bottle of booze (shocker). I toned out the rest of their argument uninterested in who won or lost and zoned out instead.

Weight shifted on the couch, Zoro sat at my feet, a bottle in hand (not the same one they were arguing over) and a smile on his face. Sanji on the other hand looked pissed but he soon got back into the rhythm of cooking and calmed down quickly. The kitchen was quiet after that with only the sounds of Sanji’s cooking and not so long after Zoro’s snores.

“Hey y/n, what do you want for dessert tonight?” Sanji’s voice broke the silence.

“Hmmm maybe brownies?”

“Brownies?! I want brownies!” Luffy barged in through the kitchen doors with a big smile on his face as he looked at Sanji like he was expecting to get something to eat right that second.

“NOT FOR YOU!”

“aww but Sanjiiii” Luffy whined and his stomach growled. I couldn't help but to laugh at the scene.

“Here” Sanji threw a piece of meat to Luffy and he immediately started eating.

“Dinner will be done soon have that and get out of my kitchen until then”

“Here you go darlings~” Sanji handed a plate of the fanciest looking brownies to Nami and Robin both thanked him before he ran back to protect the rest of the brownies from being eaten by Luffy.

He quickly distributed the rest of the brownies to the crew who had for the most part decided to take them to go.

“Here, sorry for the wait.” Sanji handed me a brownie plate. It was nowhere as fancy as the girls plates but it did have a chocolate and caramel syrup drizzle on it that the other boys didn’t seem to have.

“Oi cook, why is his different?”

In Sanji’s other hand he held a different kind of dessert, a not so sugary one for Zoro. He shoved the plate towards Zoro.

“That’s none of your business marimo!”

Robin, who had stayed sitting at the other end of the table, giggled at the two men before interrupting their conversation that would soon inevitably end in an argument.

“Nami said that there’s going to be shooting stars tonight. Would anyone like to join me in watching them?”

Franky sitting next to Robin puts his arm on the back of robins chair. “Oh, sign me up.”

“Oh that sounds lovely Robin-chwan~” Sanji immediately forgot about whatever he and Zoro were about to argue about in favor of swooning over Robin.

Everyone soon moved outside and sat down somewhere on the deck. Robin sat with Franky by the mast, Zoro sat by the railing, Sanji on the stairs with Brook not too far away playing again Bink’s brew. Luffy and Chopper were running around playing some game and Nami was up by the bow of the ship with Usopp.

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littlesoulshine · 16 hours ago

Text

───meeting buffy!reader: slight language!

the library smells like dust, mildew, and overall oldness. it’s scarily empty this time of night—just rows of old books, those long overhead lights flickering like they can’t decide whether they want to keep working, and that weird loud hum from the radiator that’s one busted pipe away from exploding.

none of that really matters, because you’ve got bigger problems. namely, the vampire standing across from you, licking his lips like he just found his next meal.

"you know, you vamps really need to switch it up," you say, twirling the stake in your grip. "creepy lurking, bad fashion choices, over-the-top snarling—it’s all a bit much."

the vampire sneers, fangs glinting under the dim lights. "and you slayers always talk too much."

"oh, baby, this is me holding back."

his growl is all the warning you get before he lunges. he’s fast. but you're obviously faster.

you sidestep easily, letting him rush past, and drive your boot into the back of his knee. he stumbles, catching himself on a nearby table. you smirk, already moving in for the next strike—

—and then from somewhere behind you:

"damn. gotta say, that's fuckin' hot."

you blink. mid-fight, that sentence shouldn’t register. but you definitely heard it.

a quick glance toward the entrance reveals two guys standing near the door. one is tall, broad-shouldered, looking concerned but also done with life. the other? leather jacket, bowlegs, a cocky smirk that should be illegal, and green eyes that flick over you with obvious interest.

dean winchester.

just great.

"seriously?" you scoff, barely dodging a punch as the vampire regains his footing. "you’re just watching?"

dean shrugs, leaning against a table like he’s settling in for a damn show. "sweetheart, you look like you’ve got it covered."

you don’t have time for this. the vampire comes at you again, swinging wild. you duck under his arm, grab the back of his jacket, and use his own momentum to send him crashing into a bookshelf.

a few dusty encyclopedias rain down on him.

dean lets out a low whistle. "damn. didn’t know librarians could be this violent."

you roll your eyes. "you could help, you know."

"oh, i could." dean grins. "but it’s really fun watching you work."

"dean." the taller guy—probably sam—groans. "focus."

dean gestures vaguely at the vampire struggling to get up. "i am focused. just…on a different kind of—."

you groan. "dude. really?"

the vampire recovers with a snarl, rushing at you again. this time, you let him think he has the upper hand—ducking just enough that his claws swipe uselessly through the air. then you twist, plant your foot, and slam your stake right into his chest.

he gasps, eyes wide, before turning to dust.

utter and completesilence.

the air was still heavy, charged with a leftover adrenaline. you take a slow breath, shaking off the dust.

dean pushes off the table, striding closer, his eyes practically devouring you. "that was…" he tilts his head, lips twitching. "sexy as hell."

you huff out a laugh, planting your hands on your hips. "so let me get this straight. you see a girl in the middle of a fight, and your first instinct is flirt, not help?"

dean smirks. "sweetheart, my first instinct was damn. flirting was just a very close second."

you hate that it works—that lazy grin, the way his eyes skim over you like he’s eye fucking you, you cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. "so, do you flirt with every girl you watch gank a vamp, or am i just special?"

dean steps closer, invading your space just enough to make the air feel thinner. "oh, you’re special. no doubt about it."

your pulse betrays you by kicking up a notch. you refuse to let it show.

sam, meanwhile, looks so done with everything. "can we please focus?"

you smirk, finally breaking eye contact with dean. "fine. what are you two even doing here?"

sam rubs a hand over his face. "we were tracking that thing. followed it here, but i guess you got to it first."

dean grins. "which, honestly, i’m not mad about. i mean, we walk in, and there’s a sexy ass chick kicking some vampire ass? it’s like christmas." he says clasping his hands togther and smiling to the ceiling.

you roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. "so, what, you two just gonna stand around and admire me all night, or you actually got work to do?"

dean leans in just slightly, voice dropping to something lower, smoother. "depends. got any plans after this?"

your breath catches before you can stop it. damn him.

you tilt your head, pretending to consider. "hmm. let’s see. after a fight? usually, i grab a drink, clean the vamp dust out of my hair, and try to avoid cocky guys who think they’re charming."

dean’s grin is devastating. "aw, c’mon. you love the charm." you bite your lip to keep from smiling. he’s insufferable. and annoyingly attractive.

sam clears his throat loudly. "i swear to god, if you two start making out, i’m leaving both of you here."

dean winks at you, smirking. "your loss, sammy."

you shake your head, turning toward the exit. "come on, winchesters. first round’s on you."

dean follows, a little too close, a little too smug. "so, about that avoiding cocky guys thing—"

you cut him off with a smirk. "i said i try. doesn’t mean i always succeed."

dean chuckles, falling into step beside you. "knew you liked trouble."

yeah. you do. you really do.

and that’s probably gonna be a problem 𑁥౿

notes: the only thing that isn’t like dean, is to not fight or chop the vamp’s head off, the flirting IS DEFINITELY DEAN!!!

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume @bejeweledinterludes @k-slla @lunaleah @pieandflannel @zepskies @liiiilsss

#buffy!readerᕠ #dean x reader #dean x oc #dean x buffy!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x buffy!reader

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raven-unkind · 2 days ago

Note

2!!! “We should just move in together. We practically live together already.” with Kim Sunoo pls pls 🙏🛐

is this how it works?

˚₊‧⁺⋆❤︎ your place or mine? ft. kim sunoo

sunoo x fem!reader

wc. 646 words

200 followers event: “We should just move in together. We practically live together already.”

a/n. I’d like to thank everyone that sent in their requests for the event! I’ll start writing/uploading the drabbles this week, i think ill be done with everything by the end of next week 🥰 There’s 2 (nsfw) prompts left for anyone interested <3

You stood completely soaked in your boyfriend’s apartment. You were on your way to hang out with Sunoo, planning to stay for a few hours and go home, but mother nature had other plans. The rain took you by surprise, soaking you through the bone in the short distance between the subway station and Sunoo’s apartment. You sigh, removing your shoes, taking note that his are there, indicative that for once, he finished work before you. These last few weeks had been rough for the both of you, barely seeing each other during the day, and surviving on overly sweet coffee. You were busy with work and end of the year projects and Sunoo with Enhypen’s newest comeback, photoshoots and interviews. This was the first time in 2 weeks you two would see each other for more than 10 minutes and to be honest, you were exhausted.

You make your way inside the familiar apartment, the faint, familiar smell of the vanilla filling your nostrils. Finding the living room empty, you head to his bedroom, to find him passed out on the bed. Well at least he changed. You think, taking note of the fact he switched whatever he wore to work for a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. The raindrops on the windows and Sunoo's quiet snores were the only sounds in the quiet apartment. You set your bag by the bed and quietly take off your soaked shirt, letting yourself fall onto the bed.

…

The sound of something falling to the ground from the kitchen woke you up a few hours later. Sitting up on the bed, you note the current time; just past 6 am. You blink, rubbing your eyes, silently thanking god it's saturday. You get up and throw on one of Sunoo’s t-shirts, making your way to the kitchen. The lights were on, and you’re greeted by the sight of a freshly awakened Sunoo – messy hair and half-open eyes – making breakfast. You make your way to the counter, resting your head on your boyfriend’s back, arms wrapping themselves around his waist. “Good morning.” “Morning my love.” “Did something happen? I heard a loud noise.” He huffs a little. “Sorry, I dropped your mug in the sink.” A comfortable silence fell over you and you reluctantly detached yourself from Sunoo’s body in favor of grabbing utensils and glasses to set the table. As you set the jam on the table, Sunoo comes in, 2 plates in hand.

You eat quietly, and move on to the couch, bodies settling against each other. You sigh in delight at the feeling. There was nothing better than waking up with your boyfriend and spending mornings together in comfortable silence. It was comforting and the idea of maybe being able to wake up like this everyday made your brain fuzzy. “What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly, fingers drawing abstract patterns on the soft skin of your waist. “I could get used to this… Waking up together, having breakfast…” You’re already dreading having to go back to your own flat. “We should just move in together. We practically live together already.” He says, nudging the mug on the table; your mug, one that you were sure you lost. Turns out it was at Sunoo’s place the entire time. You chuckle realizing he is indeed right, there’s lots of your things at this apartment; blankets, clothes, books, skincare products… “You’re been serious?” You ask, turning to look at him. He nods, looking at you with a soft smile, brown eyes full of love. “Why not? We would see eachother everyday for longer and we’ll never need to ask ourselves who’s place we go to.” You smile, head resting against his shoulder, your hand finding his under the blanket. “Let’s do it then… but later, I want to stay like this for a bit.”

©RAVEN-UNKIND

reblog, comments and likes are appreciated!

taglist: @annybah

#🐈‍⬛ —￤ unkind #🦇 —￤ wandering soul #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x female reader #sunoo x reader #sunoo x you #sunoo x y/n #sunoo soft hours #kim sunoo x reader #kim sunoo x you #enha x reader #enha fluff #sunoo fluff

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majorlb · 10 hours ago

Text

She's starts taking the opportunity to be alone in the office as often as she can without it being suspicious. Uses the alone time to be in her own skin, as her instead of him. Or to go to the library and read about gender, gender studies, queer history, and how people like her have always existed and always will.

She's not ready to tell anyone yet. She knows instinctively that Charles and Crystal will embrace her with open arms, but she can't brush off the fear that they'll shun her or look at her with disgust. She knows it's stupid, but Edwin is a product of her time no matter how hard she tries.

She thinks she's being sneaky. Turns out she is not.

One Wednesday morning, while Crystal is at school, before they open the doors to the agency, Charles sits down next to her on the little sofa and is quiet for a really long time. It makes her look up from her book, and the image makes her breath stutter.

Charles is rarely apprehensive when he wants to speak with her. Only when it comes to opening up about his parents does he look reluctant and withdrawn, but this isn't that. No, the way he's biting his lip and looking everywhere but at her makes her feel anxious about what is about to transpire.

"Edwin." It's not a question as much as it is a grab for her attention and she gives it fully, sits up straighter and closer and puts the book down.

"Whats on your mind, Charles?"

He finally looks at her, and as much as ghosts don't have reflections in objects, she sees herself mirrored back in his eyes and bites back a flinch. Sometimes, she forgets what she looks like.

The action isn't unnoticed, and she immediately regrets the visible sadness that colors Charles's beautiful face.

"Did I do something?"

"No!" She flings herself forward to grab his hands, holding them tenderly to emphasize her point even further. "No, Charles. Why do you think that?"

"You're pulling away." Of course she's not as sneaky as she thought she was, but the thought that she's been hurting Charles through her actions stabs at something tender in her chest. The ache furthers when the words spill from Charles as if pulled from him. "You've been running away and lie badly about what you're doing and why I can't join you. You're always pushing me and Crystal to go do things, and you refuse to join us. You don't seem to want to hang out anymore, and I, it's- I don't know what I did Edwin, but I'm sorry"

This is terrible. She's terrible. She's the worst friend in the world, and she should fling herself back into hell. She would, but Charles would just run back down and get her, and it would only further prove that she is the worst.

She should've just said something. Anything. Half-truths. 'I'm reading about sexualities and it's embarrassing and I'd rather do it alone' instead of just lying lying.

She scoots even closer to Charles and embraces him as hard as she can. "You didn't do anything wrong. You haven't done anything, I promise. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I made you think you did."

Her breath hitches when Charles hugs her back, holding her just as tightly and buries his face in her neck. She's still not ready, but she can't keep going as she has.

"You're my best mate, Edwin. You're allowed to have secrets. I just... I don't like it when you're pushing me away."

"I didn't mean to." She didn't, she didn't even think she was doing anything like it, but then looking back, she clearly did.

"I know, maybe it was for the best though."

"Now that is a rather confusing notion"

"Yeah, yeah, just.. hear me out." Of course, always, anything you want, its on the tip of her tongue, and yet not a word makes it out. Charles keeps talking, and his lips brush against her throat, and all she can do is sit there and listen.

"It gave me time to think, and the thought of you moving on and away gave me.. It helped me move. Made me realize that I don't want to lose you in any way, because if you move on, where will that leave me?"

He's rambling, and she's only half following his train of thought. Where would she move on to? Hell is still marked as her Afterlife, even if she currently has amnesty to stay on earth.

"I can't lose you, not now when I know how you feel, and I know I didn't give you a full answer, but I did say we'd figure it out"

Oh. Oh!

"I'm in love with you too, Edwin. It sucks that it took you running away from me for me to realize that I can't loose you like this, but better late than never? I hope.."

He thinks she's moved on. From him.

"I don't think I'd ever get over you even if I tried, and I certainly haven't even attempted to do so."

She pulls back from him reluctantly to cradle his face between her hands. She looks into his eyes and for once, since coming to her own realization she doesn't look at herself, she simply looks at Charles.

"I'm in love with you, Charles Rowland, and I always will be"

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thedraculacat · 22 hours ago

Text

Forbidden Hours ೃ⁀⤵

sebastian sallow x reader

masterlist

synopsis: sneaking into the restricted section with sebastian is supposed to be about finding some book- but when you're forced to hide, pressed against each other, you realize this was never about books at all.

w/c: 700

The library is nearly totally silent at this hour, except for the distant soft crackling of torches against stone. You know you shouldn't be here- especially not at this hour, not with him- but Sebastian Sallow has a way of making bad ideas sound like the best ones you've ever had.

"You're positive we won't get caught?" you whisper, following him through the towering bookshelves in the Restricted Section. The forbidden books seem to close the space around you, their worn spines holding secrets you know no student should meddle with.

Sebastian casts you a look over his shoulder, his grin sharp and far too confident. “Have I ever let you down before?”

You sigh. “That’s not really an answer.”

He chuckles under his breath, leading you deeper in the dimly lit section of the library. The two of you have done plenty of reckless things together, but this feels different. The secrecy- he hadn’t even told Ominis about this- the stolen glances, and his insistence… Something about tonight is heavier, charged in a way you can’t quite put your finger on yet.

“You still haven’t told me what we’re looking for yet,” you say, watching him scan the shelves as if the answer might be spelled out in the books. “A book of dark secrets? A spell to make Ominis finally laugh?”

Sebastian chuckles under his breath. “Something like that.”

You continue forward, only half convinced, until a sound makes you both freeze- footsteps.

Panic surges through you as you whip your head around. “Sallow, we’re going to get caught,” you whisper.

Sebastian grabs your wrist, tugging you sharply behind a massive bookshelf. You barely have time to react before he’s pressing close, his breath warm against your cheek, his body caging you between him and the wall. Every nerve in your body lights a fire from the proximity, the way his fingers flex slightly on your hip as if he’s considering something.

“Maybe I just needed an excuse to get you alone.”

You lift your eyebrow, lips curling in amusement. “Oh, is that so?” Your voice is steady, teasing. “You couldn’t think of anything better than dragging me into a restricted part of the castle? Bit unoriginal, don’t you think?”

Sebastian’s smirk deepens, his hand on your hip tightening ever so slightly. “I don’t know… Seems to be working rather well, don’t you think?”

You tilt your head, your confidence holding up despite the heat pooling in your stomach. “Oh, absolutely. I’ve always dreamed of a romantic getaway next to cursed books and an unhinged librarian.” Your voice drops into something softer, more challenging. “You’ll have to do better than this, Sallow.”

His gaze flickers to your lips, darkening in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. Slowly, he lifts his free hand to your chin, thumb dragging across the soft skin of your bottom lip. His touch is light, his gaze never straying from the movement. You can feel your cheeks warming, the heat between the two of you reaching a breaking point, and yet, you stay exactly where you are.

"Sebastian, why are we here, really?" you murmur.

His fingers tighten slightly on your hip. “Shh,” he hushes, barely parting his lips to form the sound.

The silence stretches as your eyes meet, as if the air itself is charged with something more than just avoiding getting caught. Then, before you can think- before you can even breathe- he crashes his lips against yours.

The kiss is searing, all heat and desperation, like he’s been holding back for far too long. His fingers slide to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

You don’t resist- not when he taste like something forbidden, something intoxicating. Your hands find his robes, gripping tightly to steady yourself as he presses you further into the wall, molding against you like he never wants to let go.

Time fails to exist. There is only Sebastian, only the way he is kissing you like he needs you to breathe. Your head spins, your lungs burn, but you don’t care.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless, your lips tingling, your body still caged beneath his. He takes in your dazed expression, a smirk growing on his lips.

“That,” he hums, his voice low, “is why we’re here.”

And, Merlin help you, you think you might just let him take you anywhere.

masterlist

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy x you #hogwarts legacy x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #friends to lovers

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notablenotions · 5 hours ago

Text

Report: The Tavern Incident and the Devilry of Fools

Hans,

As of writing this, the village has returned to some semblance of order. The pig—yes, that pig—has been relocated to a nearby farm for “rehabilitation.” The bailiff has been convinced that the “Tavern Devils” were mercenaries hired by a rival noble house to cause disorder. No one suspects you or Just Henry. The general populace remains ignorant, which is likely for the best—for both your dignity and the pig’s.

Lord Hanush remains unaware of any disturbance. Your reputation remains, somehow, intact. I remind you: you owe me.

As compensation for my tireless efforts covering your noble arse—and ensuring the realm doesn’t collapse into pig-flinging chaos—I request the following as just recompense:

Book List (Non-Negotiable):

1. “De Natura Rerum” by Isidore of Seville – Because I now question the very nature of mankind after this incident.

2. “Physica Curiosa” – Volume on beasts. I have newfound interest in swine behaviour under duress.

3. A Treatise on Herb Lore and Misuse – Seeing as you apparently don’t know belladonna from basil.

4. The Art of War by Vegetius – In case further riots need properly quelling.

5. One illuminated manuscript of your choosing. – Because I will not be satisfied with another half-burned prayer book from a tavern shelf.

Failure to comply will result in your portrait in the great hall being replaced entirely with the sketch from the bailiff’s apprentice. (Which, might I add, is more accurate than your current commissioned portrait, and considerably more entertaining.)

In summary:

Incident covered up

Villagers punished (lightly)

Hanush uninformed

Realm intact

Your incompetence, once again, managed

Do not contact me unless through messenger bearing books.

Sincerely,

Lady Jikta Capon

Wife of the Realm’s Most Vexing Man

---

She sealed the parchment with wax and her personal sigil, pressing it firmly with a grim satisfaction. Mags would ensure it reached Hans at the hunting lodge. Knowing him, he’d feign outrage, claim she was cruel and unfair, then attempt to bribe her with half a bottle of wine and some questionable reading material. She’d refuse, of course, then extract the correct books anyway.

She leaned back, studying the ridiculous sketch of Hans again. His mouth frozen mid-shout, hair wild, flailing with a sausage. She took it to the great hall, pinned it beneath his official portrait, and stepped back.

“Yes,” she murmured. “This is truth.”

And with that, she returned to her study, awaiting the next disaster that would surely follow wherever Hans and Henry roamed.

They’d be back soon, bloodied, grinning, and likely missing half their supplies. She’d be ready.

#kcd #kingdom come deliverance 2 #hans capon #hansry #henry of skalitz #kingdom come deliverance #radzig kobyla #fanfic #jikta #Pig Throwing

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sunshinepanic · 1 day ago

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Whispers from the Woods

Pt: 3

Pairing: Logan Howlett X Reader

Unfortunately Logan X Jean

Summary: Between an explosive confrontation and your unapologetic stance on your violent past. Jean and Scott are convinced you can’t be trusted. Seeking solace, you flee into the woods during a storm. Just when things can’t seem to get any worse, Logan comes to find you. With emotions running high and Logan dealing with unexpected feelings that he can’t seem to keep under control, nothing goes the way it should, and your relationship with the one person you’ve let yourself care about becomes strained, leading to emotional turmoil and isolation as you grapple with rejection and self-doubt.

Chapter Warning: Swearing, mentions of death, self deprecating thoughts, ptsd, anxiety

WC: 3,241

Wolverine Masterlist - Series Masterlist

Your anxiety has started to calm since you first arrived at the school, but outside of Logan and Kurt, you avoid interacting with the other residents as much as possible. You wander around the mansion late at night when you know the chances of running into other people are at their lowest. During the day you spend most of your time either holed up in your room or out in the woods, but wherever you are, Logan is usually close by, either next door in his room, sprawled across your bed pretending to sleep, or smoking a cigar out on your balcony while you read the books you’ve collected from your late-night trips to the library. Currently he’s sitting with his back against a tree, pretending to not pay attention as you wander through the trees nearby, the wisps of spirits trailing behind you.

You'll never admit it, but you've started to enjoy having Logan around all of the time, and you've started to miss him on the rare occasion when he's not nearby. As sad as it probably sounds, you've started to consider him your best friend.

The air is damp and heavy with the feeling of an oncoming storm. You're walking along the edges of the lake, debating on getting in when Logan grabs your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts. “The professor wants to see you.” You heave a sigh and reluctantly follow Logan back towards the school, not bothering to pull your hand out of his grip.

At the sound of you and Logan pushing through the door into the professor’s office, a man and a woman you’ve never seen before turn to face you. The woman is pretty, and she projects superiority and confidence without even trying. The man standing close to her is conventionally attractive even though you can’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses.

The woman’s eyes zero in on Logan’s hand that is still holding yours before jumping to Logan’s T-shirt that you are currently wearing. She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow before breaking the tense silence that settled over the room at your entrance. “So this is the murderer you were sent to find?” Logan drops your hand. The loss of warmth at his action paired with the woman’s remark immediately has you on edge, but before you can reply, the professor comes into the room. “Ah, Y/N, good to see you again. I do hope that you are settling in ok. I see you’ve met Scott and Jean. Scott here is the leader of our team, the X-Men, as well as our engineering professor, and Jean is our top scientist and biology professor.” You stare at them blankly, eyes shifting between Scott and Jean. “Nice sunglasses.” Logan snorts beside you as Scott scowls. Professor Xavier cuts in before anyone else can speak. “Why don’t you come sit down? There are some things we need to discuss.”

You hesitate before reluctantly moving from Logan’s side and make your way to the chair in the center of the room, feeling an awful lot like this is about to be an interrogation and not a discussion. You sit down, staring at the three faces in front of you as Logan moves to stand off to the side. “Why don’t you tell us about yourself?” You stare blankly at Scott and Jean for a moment before turning your attention to the professor. “What do you want to know? I mean, I can give you the basic sob story: Mommy and Daddy never loved me, blah blah blah. I found out I’m a mutant and ran away from home; now here we are.” Jean rolls her eyes as Scott huffs in annoyance. However, the professor is unfazed. “Why don’t you tell me about your abilities? What are they? When did they present?”

You bite your lower lip, eyes bouncing between Scott and Jean. You tip your head at them while looking at the professor. “What can they do?” “Scott shoots beams of destructive light out of his eyes, hence the need for the cool sunglasses, and Jean is a powerful telepath.” You smirk at the professor’s acknowledgment of your dig at Scott. “I talk to and control spirits. I’ve heard them my whole life, but I fully presented at fifteen.” The professor nods. “Could you show us?” You look at him hesitating before glancing towards Logan. He gives you a slight nod, assuring you that it’s ok.

At Logan’s encouragement, you let out a slow breath, and the dark wisps of spirits start rising from the ground. They watch as the spirits start swirling around the room before sliding around Logan and making their way to the professor. Jean tenses as the spirits near Xavier, but he smiles as the inky black swirls around his arms and hands almost with the sensation of someone barely dragging their fingertips down his skin. Then all at once they disappear.

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment, although the smile is still present on his face. “Do you know the extent of your powers? Have you tested them?” You furrow your brows, eyes searching for a deeper meaning behind his question. “No, I’ve never tested them outside of how far I can control them. I’ve figured out a few things here and there, but it was purely accidental.” Jean and Scott both scoff in unison, but the professor cuts in again. “We will have to get you in the war room so you can test your powers in a safe environment. It’s imperative that we figure out exactly what you are capable of.”

Jean mumbles under her breath, “We already know what she’s capable of,” but you catch it. “Do you have something you wanna say?” Logan and Scott both visibly tense as Jean's eyes snap back to you. “How do we know that anything you say is true?” Scott pipes up, “How do we trust you when we know next to nothing about you? Especially taking into account the circumstances.”

You shake your head in disbelief, a humorless chuckle passing your lips. “I really don’t care what you or anyone else thinks of me. You want to judge me based on something you know absolutely nothing about? Then you go right ahead.” Jean scoffs. “Then why don’t you prove it?” You tense, your eyes narrowing like daggers. “I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

The professor cuts through your back and forth, causing your eyes to snap back to him. “I trust you… I don’t think you are a bad person or that you’re a danger to us… Do you think you are a bad person?” You sigh, sitting back in your chair and shrugging your shoulders. “Depends on who you ask.” He hums, “And if I were to ask Logan?” Your gaze drifts to the man who’s been standing quietly off to the side. “I’m not sure.” Logan moves to speak, but Jean, seemingly having had enough, snaps. “How about if we ask the people you murdered in cold blood?” Rage immediately fills your veins, and you snap back at her, your voice rising. “The opinion of trash doesn’t matter.” Jean slams her hands down on the desk. The screen next to her flashes to life, displaying photos of the people you’ve killed. “Those are the people you murdered in cold blood! For all we know they are innocent human beings, and you killed them! They are dead because of you, so right now their opinion and their loved ones opinion on if you are a shit person or not matters more than anything!”

Logan moves to get between you and Jean, but before he can, you shoot up from your seat, sending the chair crashing backwards to the ground as you stand. Your eyes bleed black, and tendrils shoot up from the ground, anchoring Logan in place as you step up to the desk, slamming your hands down on it, mirroring Jean's stance and getting into her face. Your voice is cold and deadly, almost mocking as you speak. “They fucking deserved it. What? You want me to apologize? Cry? You want me to pretend I feel bad? Beg for forgiveness? Say it was an accident, and I wish I could go back and change it. Well, I don’t! Every single person I’ve killed deserved it. If anything, I wish I had made them suffer for days on end. I wish I had dragged it out and thoroughly enjoyed every moment of their suffering instead of ending it quickly. Not a single part of me regrets watching the light drain from each and every one of their eyes, and I’d gladly do it again!”

You turn to leave, releasing Logan, as Scott pipes up. “She’s a psychopath! We can’t trust her! There is no way she can be one of us.” Without stopping, you snap back over your shoulder. “I don’t want to be a part of your shitty boy band.” The professor chuckles but covers it up with a cough as Scott looks at him in exasperation.

You slam out of the professor’s office, blinded with rage. You need to leave; it’s clear that not everyone wants you here, and you know better than to stay where you’re not wanted. Part of you wants the help that Professor Xavier is offering, and even though you’ve only known Logan and Kurt for a short amount of time, you’ve let yourself get attached to them. As you storm through the halls towards your room, you make a last-minute decision and push through the front doors, seeking the only place you know no one else will be, and take off into the woods. You keep going until you reach the small lake. A scream of frustration tears from your throat as tendrils start to form around you at your mounting anger. You tilt your head towards the sky, taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you wade out into the lake and submerge yourself in the cool water just as the first streaks of lightning crack the sky.

Logan is furious. He watches you slam out of the professor’s offices, and he rounds on Jean and Scott, growling. “What in the fuck was that?” Jean sighs, slowly approaching him and placing her hand on his arm. Her placating tone grates on his nerves. “Babe, I’m sorry. Things got a bit out of hand, but we have to protect everyone, and with me and the professor unable to read her mind, we can’t know for sure if anything she says is true.” Logan shrugs her hand off his arm, his anger flaring. “She’s telling the truth.” Jean chuckles, agitating him further. “Like I said, you can’t know that for sure. It’s nice that you want to see the good in her, but…” He cuts Jean off, turning towards the professor. “She showed me.” The professor raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean she showed you?” Logan sighs. “The other day in the woods, she had the spirits show me everything that happened to her. Why she killed those people. It was like I was there with her. I saw everything clearly, as if I were standing there myself. The people she killed were bad people, abusers, rapists, and pedophiles. No one she hurt was innocent.” Jean scoffs, shaking her head. “How do you know you didn’t just see what she wanted you to see?” Logan growls in frustration. “And how do you know that she isn’t telling the truth? You said it yourself: You can’t read her.” Before anyone else can speak up, he turns, slamming out of the office in search of you.

Logan follows your scent to the front door and tries to ignore the thought in the back of his mind telling him that you ran. At some point during your meeting, storm clouds rolled in. Lightning streaks the sky, and thunder rolls as heavy rain falls from the sky in sheets, muddling your scent and making it almost impossible to follow. He keeps going, looking for any sign of you, when he catches it out of the corner of his eye. You’re lying on your back floating in the small lake you had been near earlier. He moves to the edge of the water, calling out to get your attention. “Y/N!” You don’t even flinch. Logan tries calling for you one more time before a feeling of unease starts to set in.

The splashing of water and strong hands grabbing ahold of your arms startle you out of your peaceful moment. You yelp as his long fingers grip your upper arms, hauling you up towards his body. You flail, your hands scrabbling for purchase against Logan’s wet T-shirt. Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as you try to calm your racing heart. His gruff voice yelling at you startles you even further. “What in the hell are you doing? Trying to give me a fucking heart attack!” Logan releases your arms, continuing to yell without waiting for a response. “Are you serious right now? After what just happened in there, I come to check on you, and I find you floating in the middle of a lake while it’s fucking storming outside! I thought you were dead! What is wrong with you?” His breathing is coming in harsh pants now that he’s done yelling, and he’s waiting for you to respond.

You won’t look at him. His eyes dart across your face, catching on the raindrops that cling to your eyelashes and tracking them as they trail down your cheeks to your lips. His eyes follow the trail of water from your plush lips and down your neck, where it disappears into the soaked fabric of his shirt that’s clinging to your body, your nipples clearly visible through the wet material. His mouth waters at the sight. Thoughts of following the same path with his tongue filling his mind. He rips his hands away from your body as if he's been burned and averts his gaze, guilt immediately flooding his system. He forces his eyes back to your face, but you have your eyes closed again, and you're standing rigid in the shallow water. He growls out in frustration at your lack of response before he turns, storming off back towards the mansion.

You’re still getting your breathing under control; your chest is rapidly moving with each breath you take. Your head was spinning from what had just happened in the professor’s office, and you weren’t expecting Logan to follow you into the storm. He scared the shit out of you, grabbing you the way that he did. You know that Logan wouldn’t hurt you, but with your emotions already running high, being abruptly grabbed and yanked out of the water when you weren’t expecting it and him yelling at you caused your body to slam to a screeching halt. It was like your mind shut down, and you couldn’t form a coherent thought no matter how badly you wanted to. You saw his lips moving, but all you heard was white noise.

Logan abruptly turning and walking away startles you out of it. Your head snaps up, and an uneasy feeling settles low in your gut as you watch him walk away. Tears are already brimming in your eyes, but you hold them back as you move to trail after him. You follow him back into the mansion, people splitting like the Red Sea to get out of Logan’s way as he storms through the halls, frustration and anger pouring off him in waves. You wrap your arms around yourself as you follow behind him, and people start to whisper. You’re passing the living room when you notice Jean and Scott huddled in the corner of the room talking quietly with each other. Jean catches your eye, a smirk playing across her face as you continue towards the stairs.

You run up the stairs just as Logan is pushing into his room. Finally finding your voice, you call out to him. “Logan, wait!” But his bedroom door slams shut with a loud bang. You flinch back from the sound, a pit forming in your stomach. Slowly you walk into your own room and lock the door behind you. You don’t bother turning on any of the lights before making your way into the bathroom and crawling into the empty bathtub. You sink down to the bottom of the tub, curling into yourself against the cool surface before you finally let the tears you’ve been holding back fall.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You remember crying until your eyes were burning. You remember every thought that plagued your mind as you lay there, not able to convince your body to move.

This is all your fault. How stupid are you that you actually thought you were friends? You didn’t even last a week before he got tired of your shit. I mean, honestly, who could blame him for not wanting you around anymore? You’re fucking pathetic. You should do everyone a favor and just disappear. Everyone would be better off if you weren’t around. This is why your own family doesn’t care if you’re alive or dead. You ruin everything you touch, and it’s only a matter of time before you ruin him and his friends too. You don’t belong here.

You tried to ignore the thoughts as they continued to race through your head, but they just kept coming. Vile things your parents would scream at you any time you made the mistake of making them angry. The last thing you remember is wishing everything would just stop. Exhaustion must have pulled you under after that because when you open your eyes, it’s completely dark outside.

You slowly pull yourself out of the tub. Stumbling into the shower at the far end of the bathroom, you turn the faucet on. Hot water pours over you as you peel the wet clothes from your body. You don’t know how long you stand under the spray for before you start to feel cold and you shut the tap off. Walking out to your room, the light from the clock catches your eye. It’s three am, and part of you wonders if Logan is awake.

You quickly pull on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts before walking the short distance down the hallway towards his room. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself before lightly knocking on his door. You wait to see if he will respond, but when he doesn’t, you deflate. You turn to walk back to your room but turn back toward his door instead. “I get that you’re pissed and clearly don’t want anything to do with me right now, but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken off like that; it was stupid, and I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did when you found me. I didn’t mean to freeze like that. I know you weren’t going to hurt me. I just… I’m sorry.” You hold your breath for a minute, hoping he will open the door or say something, even just make a noise. Anything to indicate that he heard you, but after a few minutes of standing there feeling like a complete idiot, you give up and go back to your room.

tags: @ayamenimthiriel

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squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame · 3 days ago

Text

Tea and Thoughts

Summary: Thanos finds you sitting by the window, contently reading in a little book. And he thinks you'd love some tea

The world outside your window is soft and quiet, the kind of peaceful scene that feels like it could stretch on forever. You sit curled up in your favorite chair, a book in your lap, the pages worn and familiar. You’ve read it a hundred times, but there’s something comforting about it that you can never get enough of. The sun filters gently through the curtains, casting warm golden beams that paint the room in soft, hazy light.

As you turn the page, the faint sound of footsteps reaches your ears—heavy and purposeful. You don’t look up at first; you’re too absorbed in the world of your book. But a moment later, a deep, steady voice breaks through the quiet.

“I made you tea.”

You glance up, finding Thanos standing near the door, a cup of steaming tea in his large hand. His usual imposing presence is softened by the simple gesture, and for a second, you just take him in. He’s wearing his casual clothes, the ones he’s more comfortable in, and the soft look in his eyes as he watches you is the kind of warmth that doesn’t always match his formidable nature.

You smile, setting your book aside. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Thanos steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, placing the cup gently on the small table next to you. The steam rises, carrying a soft, fragrant aroma that reminds you of earthy herbs and something sweet. It’s a smell that’s become almost as comforting as his presence.

“I wanted to,” he says quietly, settling down beside you. His large frame is a contrast to the cozy space, but somehow, with him here, the room feels even more peaceful.

You reach for the cup, the warmth from the tea radiating into your fingers, and take a small sip. The taste is perfect—smooth, with just a hint of honey and lemon. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the simple comfort of it, then look back at him.

“You always make it just right,” you murmur.

Thanos leans back in his chair, his gaze following yours as you return to your book, though you’re no longer entirely focused on the words. His presence has a way of pulling you into the moment, making everything else fade away. The tea has warmed you, but his company has warmed something deeper inside you.

“I’ve learned what you like,” he says, his voice low, like he’s sharing a secret. “After all this time, I know how to make it perfect for you.”

A slight smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you glance at him. There’s something so gentle about him in these quiet moments—when the world slows down, and he’s simply Thanos, not the overwhelming force of the universe, but just a man who cares for you in the simplest ways.

You sip your tea again, savoring the peaceful silence. The two of you don’t need to fill the air with constant conversation; sometimes, just being in each other’s presence is enough.

Finally, you set the cup down, turning fully toward him. “I don’t think I ever tell you how much I appreciate these moments. The little things you do.”

Thanos meets your gaze, his expression unreadable for a second, before something softens in his eyes. “You don’t need to,” he replies. “You’re here. That’s enough.”

And in this quiet moment, you realize that, in his own way, he’s right. The weight of the universe can wait. For now, it’s just you, him, a cup of tea, and the peaceful rhythm of the world outside your window.

#squid game netflix #squid game season 2 #squid game 2 #squid game #squid game imagines #squid game headcanons #squid game x y/n #thanos x reader #thanos x you #thanos headcanons #thanos x y/n #thanos #choi su bong

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sapphic-circles · 2 days ago

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In the Savage Night (Chapter 11)

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Elphaba had never felt so ill in her life. She paced around the empty dorm room with a knot so deep in her throat that she could hardly breathe through it as she battled with herself over how in Oz she was going to make things up to Galinda.

That, and the fact that she wasn’t sure whether Galinda had heeded her warning about the traps. Elphaba wanted to follow her, to make sure she was safe, but if she hadn’t already entirely destroyed Galinda’s trust in her then that would be the final nail in the coffin. She couldn’t betray that delicate trust again, not if she wanted any chance at remaining friends.

So, she’d wait for Galinda to come back. She would come back eventually—it was her room, after all—and then she’d apologize. Properly.

If Galinda came back.

Elphaba tried to tell herself that the worst that would happen was she would lose Galinda’s friendship, and not that the blonde would return beaten and bloody or that she wouldn’t return at all. She tried not to worry, but she knew she was kidding herself if she thought she’d be able to think about anything else until she saw Galinda again.

She did try. She took her books to the library and set to work on her weekend assignments, scrawling them out without much thought. Her essays would be technically accurate, but she couldn’t find it in her to care about the presentation, nor the fact that her professors would probably notice the dip in the quality of her work.

But at least it offered some distraction. Elphaba studied until long past sunset, hoping that by the time she went back to the dorm, Galinda would have already returned—maybe still angry, maybe among a pile of paper roses, maybe refusing to speak to her, but safe. Unharmed.

Of course, Elphaba came back to the room still vacant. Maybe Galinda was simply still avoiding her—maybe she’d gone to spend the night with Shenshen or found Fiyero to comfort her.

That thought relaxed her a little. If Galinda had gone to Fiyero, then she was probably still with him. She’d probably stay with him overnight, complaining about her awful, selfish roommate who had stuck her green nose where it didn’t belong. And that was fine, because at least Fiyero would look after her.

Elphaba allowed herself to believe that was where Galinda was when she didn’t come back that night or the next day. It was the weekend, after all; she didn’t have any obligations. At the very least, she’d see her friend—if they were still friends—in class tomorrow.

But Elphaba felt a sickening sense of déjà vu when Galinda didn’t appear in their sports class, and she spent the entire lacrosse lesson fumbling the ball and nearly hitting her classmates upside the head. All she could think about was the following alchemy class, during which she could at least ask Fiyero if he’d seen Galinda if she didn’t show up there, either.

She got there early and sat at a desk in the empty lab, tapping her pencil impatiently on the tabletop as she watched the door. About half the class had filtered in by the time she caught sight of Fiyero, and she peered around him in the hope that Galinda would be following, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Fiyero caught Elphaba’s eye as he entered, and he hurried toward her even as she stood up to meet him.

“Hey,” he said before she could open her mouth. “Is everything all right? With Galinda, I mean. I tried to come check on her Saturday, but nobody answered the door.”

Elphaba’s heart sank. “So she hasn’t been with you, then,” she said.

“Why would she be with me? She lives with you.”

Elphaba shook her head. How was she supposed to explain this? The lab was almost full, and their professor would be starting the lesson any minute now.

Fiyero seemed to notice the concern in Elphaba’s expression, and he frowned as he glanced around the classroom. “All right,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Normally Elphaba would refuse, but she only nodded solemnly and followed him out of the room. She wouldn’t be able to pay attention to the lesson, anyway, and maybe Fiyero could help.

“So, spit it out, then,” Fiyero said once they were alone in the hallway. “What happened?”

“Galinda and I had…an argument,” Elphaba said. She didn’t want to call it a *fight,* but it felt so much more grievous than a simple argument. The image of Galinda’s eyes alight with anger was burned into her memory, and she hated it. She hated knowing she’d caused that.

She took a deep breath to gather herself. There was only so much she could share with Fiyero without betraying Galinda any further, but she couldn’t do this alone. She’d just have to be careful about what she said.

“I think she likes to go into the woods when she’s upset,” Elphaba explained, avoiding mentioning the exact reason why Galinda was upset. “She left that morning and hasn’t been back since; I’m worried something happened to her. I was hoping she went to be with you, or maybe one of her other friends, but…”

“Wait,” Fiyero said. “You think she went to the woods? The woods that are off-limits because they’re dangerous? And you didn’t go after her?”

Elphaba felt like she might be sick right on the tiled hallway floor. “She didn’t want me to,” she said, but it hardly felt like much of a defense now. It had been long enough that she should have gone looking, right? She should have gone yesterday after Galinda didn’t come home.

“Okay,” Fiyero said. He stepped toward the door. “Well, someone’s got to go looking for her. Are you coming?”

“Of course I’m coming,” Elphaba said. She followed Fiyero outside and brushed past him to take the lead. “I’ve been out there,” she said. “Someone trapped the forest. Be careful where you walk, and keep an eye out for anything that looks off. I saw snares, but there could be other traps, too.”

“Traps?” Fiyero said. “What in Oz would there be traps for?”

“I don’t know.”

They fell into an uneasy silence as they crossed campus and made their way toward the trees. Elphaba’s heart beat in her throat when they stepped off the path and delved deeper into the woods, terrified that she’d see a familiar blonde figure hanging from a tree or lying among the undergrowth. Because, honestly, what did they expect to find out here if not the worst? It wasn’t as if they were going to stumble on Galinda strolling happily through the woods.

It wasn’t long before something bright against the green of the foliage came into view, and Elphaba’s heart all but slammed to a halt. She didn’t warn Fiyero before taking off toward the limp pink thing on the ground, forgetting to check for traps and only realizing once she reached her destination that she’d been lucky not to step in one.

It wasn’t Galinda. At first Elphaba felt relief that the lifeless pile of cloth in the dirt wasn’t her friend, but it was Galinda’s nightgown, and that didn’t seem much better. It only meant that Galinda was lost or injured and unclothed. Had someone done this to her? Taken her, stripped her down, and left her so deep in the woods that she couldn’t find her way back—or worse?

Elphaba lifted the dirty gown and hugged it to her chest, turning to show Fiyero as he caught up with her. “I…I don’t…”

She couldn’t seem to form words. None of the possibilities as to what could have happened to Galinda were benign anymore; she was certain of that now, and she kicked herself for waiting so long to investigate.

“It’s something,” Fiyero said, though his tone fell flat with the same dread that Elphaba felt. “It means she was here.”

“We need to report her missing,” Elphaba said. “The school can help. They’ll find her.”

They’ll find her. They have to find her. Oh, Oz, she could be dead.

Elphaba’s chest, already tight, seemed to be gripped so firmly in a vise that she could only manage short, shallow breaths. Galinda was possibly—maybe even probably—dead. And it was Elphaba’s fault.

“Okay, come on,” Fiyero said. He laid his hands on Elphaba’s shoulders and looked her in the eye, his own features calm but his face blanched with worry. “Breathe. She might be all right.”

“All right?” Elphaba couldn’t imagine any circumstances in which Galinda was all right. She’d be lost and afraid at the very least, and that was the best case scenario at this point.

“Just…don’t jump to conclusions,” Fiyero said. “It won’t help her. Let’s get to the headmistress’s office, yeah?”

Elphaba nodded and clenched her fingers tighter around the fabric of Galinda’s nightgown. It wasn’t torn and there was no blood—that had to be a good sign. Maybe. She just couldn’t understand how Galinda could have lost her clothes.

Fiyero led her back through the woods with the occasional hand on the back of her shoulder or her arm: a comforting sensation, like something a parent might do to an upset child. She had half a mind to push him away and snap at him to stop acting like she was a victim in this, but she couldn’t muster the strength to be angry. All she could think about was Galinda, alone in the woods. Galinda, broken and in pain. Galinda, dead.

Elphaba blinked away tears as they approached the school. The last thing she wanted was to bring further attention to herself and the distinct lack of her perky blonde roommate.

Miss Coddle sat at the desk in her office with a pen in her hand, which she nearly threw across the room when Elphaba appeared in her doorway. She cleared her throat and pasted a smile onto her face for a moment before it brightened into a genuine one as Fiyero joined her.

“Ah, Mr. Tigelaar!” she said, all but ignoring Elphaba’s presence. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Is there something I can do for you?”

Fiyero glanced solemnly at Elphaba, who held out Galinda’s nightgown for Miss Coddle to see.

“My roommate is missing,” Elphaba said, her voice cracking. “We found this in the woods. It’s hers.”

Miss Coddle furrowed her brow. “Oh, my. Miss Upland? In the woods?”

Elphaba nodded.

“Well, that is a right shame,” Miss Coddle said. “I’d have thought she would heed the warnings.” She frowned. “So, you were out there as well, then?”

“We were just looking for her,” Fiyero cut in before Elphaba could lose her temper. Miss Coddle, at least, seemed more forgiving with him.

She sighed. “Please do not go out there again,” she said. “It isn’t safe. Miss Upland was aware of that fact, and I’m afraid that if anything has happened to her, it is out of our hands. But I will speak with the groundskeeper and ask him to keep an eye out for her.”

“That’s it?” Elphaba said. Her chest burned with indignation, and she could feel the magic flaring up inside her. The contents of the office trembled, threatening to go flying. “She’s your student. You need to find her.”

Miss Coddle visibly gulped as she seemed to weigh her options, but she relented as the papers began propelling off of her desk. “All right!” she said. “All right. I’ll hire a search party.”

Elphaba took a deep breath and forced her power to soothe itself. “Please keep me updated,” she said, then turned and stalked away before she had the chance to say or o anything else that might get her expelled.

“That was impressive,” Fiyero said as he caught up with her. “What else can you do? You couldn’t use magic to find Galinda, could you?”

Elphaba shook her head. Of course she still couldn’t do anything useful with sorcery, besides intimidating useless, indifferent headmistresses. “Don’t you think I would have done that if I could?” she said. “I can barely do anything on purpose at all.”

“Right,” Fiyero said. “Well…the search party will find her,” he said. “There’s nothing else we can do. You should try to relax a little; I think you might give yourself an aneurysm if you clench any tighter.”

“I can’t just relax,” Elphaba argued. “How can you relax, not knowing what happened to her?”

She did recognize vaguely that Fiyero had only just met Galinda, flirting aside, but it wasn’t as if Elphaba had really known her for much longer. They’d barely existed to one another except to irritate each other for the vast majority of the time after they’d met, but that didn’t make a difference to Elphaba. All it had taken was one day for Galinda to burrow into chest and take ownership of her heart. Wasn’t it the same for Fiyero?

“I’d just rather not stress myself into an early grave over what-ifs,” Fiyero said. “It won’t help find her faster. When there’s bad news, then I’ll be upset.”

Elphaba studied his face for a moment, then softened slightly as she realized he was still just as worried as she was. He could pretend otherwise if it helped him cope, but he wore the concern visibly on his features.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. But what could she possibly do to relax?

The thought came to her with the memory of Galinda folding paper in bed to soothe herself. Elphaba didn’t know how to do that, but the flowers were nice, and she knew where to find real ones.

“I’m going to go pick some poppies,” Elphaba said. “Do you want to come with me?”

So, that was how she ended up with several armfuls of the flowers to bring back to her room. The repetitive motion of stooping and plucking and adding the flowers to her growing bouquet served as a good enough distraction, and Fiyero’s silent company helped, too.

She decided to go to class the next day, knowing she’d only wallow in her worry if she skipped, and brought bundles of poppies with her to hand off to her professors. She didn’t have enough room for all of them, and she knew Dr. Dillamond was fond of them as well. At least seeing the old Goat smile would be nice.

He accepted the gift gratefully when she offered it to him, and she took her seat alone in the front row. Fiyero was nowhere to be seen—whether too affected by Galinda’s absence or a lack of interest in history to show up, she wasn’t sure. She actually found herself missing his presence, but the lecture should at least keep her focused on something she liked for the next hour and a half.

Dr. Dillamond had barely begun his lesson on the Ozmas when a knock on the door interrupted him, and Miss Coddle strode in without invitation. Elphaba perked up and gripped her pencil in her hand, hoping the headmistress had come with news of Galinda’s whereabouts.

The stout woman stood with a proud smile as she addressed the class, and Elphaba quickly realized as she spoke that this visit had nothing to do with Galinda.

“Good afternoon, students!” Miss Coddle said. “I’ve come with a colleague to give you a very special presentation. He was scheduled for later this week—and you’ll still get that presentation as well, not to worry!—but an opportunity has arisen that we simply cannot wait to share with you all. Dr. Nikidik?”

Elphaba didn’t know what to expect. She couldn’t have cared less about whatever presentation Miss Coddle would be pushing, except that when the unfamiliar man strode into the room, he was followed by something so obscene that all other thought left her.

Gasps and murmurs arose from the class, and Dr. Dillamond pinned his ears in horror. “What in the name of Oz have you done?” he breathed.

It was a Wolf—a huge, hulking thing, bigger than any Wolf Elphaba had met before. Dr. Nikidik held it by a chain secured to a tight silver collar, and it shuffled into the classroom on unsteady legs cuffed to one another to prevent it from walking naturally. And, as if that weren’t enough, a gleaming metal muzzle kept its jaw clamped shut.

“Now, settle down,” Dr. Nikidik said. “This may look like a regular Wolf at first glance, but it is actually something much more dangerous—not to worry, though; it has been thoroughly subdued for the presentation.”

Elphaba barely registered the man’s words as she stared at the creature, struck dumb by the state of it. Its ears lay flat and its tail was tucked so far between its legs that the brush nearly touched its belly. But despite its fear, it didn’t seem to be able to fight against its restraints. Its head hung low and it swayed on its feet, heavy-lidded eyes half closed as if drugged. Its pale yellow flank heaved with each laborious breath.

“This,” Dr. Nikidik continued, “is the elusive Werewolf: a creature borne of and sustained by bloodlust. Nasty things, they are, and should be put down post-haste. But before we put this one out of its misery, I’d like to share with you the innovation of the muzzle. A brilliant tool, really, useful for—”

Elphaba couldn’t hear the words at all anymore. Her heart thundered so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear anything else. The Wolf’s fur was such a familiar color, even under the layer of dirt and the blood caked around its restraints.

The only shadow of doubt that remained in her mind melted away when the Wolf looked straight up at Elphaba, its wide, frightened brown eyes locked onto hers for just a heartbeat before its heavy eyelids dropped again. Those eyes…they were shaped differently, but she’d recognize the spirit behind them anywhere. She’d so longed to see it again the last few days, and here it was. Captive, restrained, and injured, but alive.

Galinda.

#wicked #gelphie #gelphie fanfic #my writing

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