#wow wow still have about half an hour left and I���m truly impressed

[disgruntledspacedad]

The White Room

The Better Love Series || Join My Tags

a sequel to Shit Hits the Fan

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse.

summary: Bill Stechner makes his move. You never even saw it coming.

words: 6.1k

warnings: 18+, plot, a little angst, a little fluff. 

notes: unbeta’d. this is a big one. notes at the end.

<< Shit Hits the Fan || These Hands are Magic >>

MASTERLIST

You take the embassy steps two at a time, wishing you’d have been notified about the change in your schedule just half an hour earlier.

You’d gotten a page just as you were headed out the door of the apartment. Stechner has decided to pull you from Centra Spike’s night flight over Medellín. He wants you at headquarters this evening instead. He didn’t say why. 

Part of you isn’t sorry. Escobar has been getting desperate lately, and between the outbreaks of violence in Medellín and the continued bombing campaign in Bogotá, you’ve been burning the candle at both ends. Javi, too. He’s been spending more and more time at the base in Medellín, and you’ve been spending more and more time in the skies, pulling random shifts through all hours of the day and night. 

It hasn’t put a strain on your relationship, exactly. In fact, in some ways, the little moments that you steal with Javi when your schedules just happen to mesh are all the more precious because of it. You’re both exhausted and a little cranky, but there’s been an underlying desperation to your recent interactions that’s only served to stoke the flame that flickers between you. 

It’s a bittersweet feeling. You cherish the time you get together, but on the other hand, it seems like even when Javi’s right there next to you, you miss him so much that your chest aches.

Which is why you’re miffed that Bill couldn’t have shuffled you around a little sooner. Javi’s been in Medellín for the past two days. He’d caught an early flight back to Bogotá just as you’d been finishing up another late shift flyover. You’d just happened to run into him at the embassy airstrip, a perfect coincidence. Your eyes had met over the tarmac, and like a pair of magnets, you’d crashed into one another. Javi had wrapped you into a fierce hug, and you’d pulled him into a heated kiss, and the two of you had spent a good five minutes canoodling in a hidden corridor near the water fountains, kissing and whispering and grappling for position as he’d pinned you against the wall. He’d breathed you in, and you’d reveled in the taste of him on your lips, each of you pressing frantically against the body of the other as if it had been weeks and not mere days since you’d been together. 

“I’ve got to go,” Javi had apologized into your mouth, breathing the words between a series of soft, desperate kisses. “Fucking… fucking early meeting with Martinez.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you’d reassured him, feeling very much like it wasn’t okay. You hardly get enough of him as it is. This tiny little taste had only deepened your aching need, and you’d felt your heart splitting in two as he’d pulled away from you, a small little grimace of frustration twisting his face. 

“I’ll see you soon,” you’d called as he’d hurried away, and he’d responded with a tight lipped smile and another dark look of longing. 

Now, you round the corridor toward the DEA office, walking as quickly as you can without drawing attention to yourself. Javi is working late again. If you hurry, you’ll have twenty five uninterrupted minutes with him before your night shift starts. 

“Ears!” You stop in your tracks, a little shudder of resentment flashing down your spine at Bill’s overeager greeting. “Just the lady I’ve been waiting to see.”

You school your face into a neutral expression of polite interest. Most days, you like Bill just fine, despite the fact that you really don’t trust him for shit. 

Today, damn him straight to hell.

“What’s up?” you ask, quirking your lips into an intrigued little grin. There’s a certain informality and blasé banter that Bill’s grown to expect from your encounters, and he’s sharp enough to sense that something’s off if you don’t perform.

“Oh, loads and loads,” Bill says, leaning casually against the corridor wall with his arms folded. 

You bite back a sigh. You really, really don’t have the patience to dance around him today. “Oh, really?”

Bill arches a questioning brow at you, and you remind yourself to be convincing, dammit. Usually, this isn’t an issue. Most days, you like your job, and your boss, just fine. 

Most days. 

“You’re bored, aren’t you, Ears?” Bill continues, pitching his voice deep, those probing eyes piercing straight through you.

“I -” you start. Bored isn’t how you’d describe it, lately.

Tired, more like. 

“No, no,” Bill’s expression is patient, endearing. “Don’t deny it. I’ve been watching you. I know that hungry look when I see it. You want more. You came to Colombia to do something important with your life, I can tell.”

Six months ago, hell, even three months ago, Bill’s words would have been true. Now, the very thought of more is enough to send you crawling into bed and sleeping for a week. 

‘Isn’t tracking down Pablo Escobar pretty fucking important?’ you’re half tempted to ask. You hold your tongue.

Obviously, it’s not to Bill Stechner.

“What do you have for me?” you say instead, hoping you sound intrigued, carefully not confirming or denying Bill’s suspicions. 

“Real work,” Bill says with a sharp smile. Something cold jolts down your spine at the his use of the word ‘real.’ 

As if everything until now has been a sham.

“Follow me,” he beckons, and you have no choice but to obey.

Bill leads you past the DEA offices. You catch a glimpse of the top of Javi’s head from the corner of your eye. He’s hunched over his desk, pouring over an open manilla file. You can barely see the deep furrow in his brow. He doesn’t notice you pass by, and you don’t pause to acknowledge him.

Something throbs in your chest at that.

You follow Bill through a few more winding corridors, down into the basement, past Centra Spike’s room, right up to an unassuming little bookcase built into a nondescript wall in the middle of nowhere. 

Bill pauses here, turning to look at you with shining eyes. 

You meet his stare, giving away nothing. 

With an enthusiasm that borders on theatrical, Bill huddles over a little keypad that’s tucked away at the edge of the bookcase. He punches in a series of numbers, glancing over to confirm that you’re still watching. 

You definitely are.

Bill steps back, and like something from an Indiana Jones film, the entire fucking bookcase slides aside, reveling a reinforced steel door built into the wall. 

“Whoa,” you can’t help but breathe.

Bill’s eyes glitter. He’s eating this up, impressing you. 

And truly, you’re impressed. That little spark of interest that had died in the past months of your burnout has flared with a vengeance. 

This is the shit that you joined the CIA for, and Bill Stechner knows it. 

“Welcome to the white room, Ears,” Bill announces lowly. It’s the soft, knowing voice of a man sharing a deeply guarded secret. He opens the steel door with a flourish, and it swings slowly aside, heavy and creaking, as if its weight alone could announce the gravity of what you’re about to see. 

Carefully, you step inside the room, ducking a little to avoid knocking your head against the low hanging doorway, crawling past the steel corridor entrance before you can straighten.

You blink, astounded at what you’re seeing.

Of course, you’ve heard whispers of CIA’s fabled “White Room,” a repository of classified files tucked away somewhere in the embassy basement. Even Javi’s mentioned it a couple of times, always with a hint of resentment, like he’d give his left arm for even a glimpse inside. Rumor is, Steve Murphy’s been in here before, but just once, and he was heavily supervised the entire time. It’s a fucking goldmine of intel, stacks upon stacks of carefully organized file folders, all at the fingertips of the few individuals who are important enough to be need-to-know. 

“Okay,” you whisper beneath your breath, taking it all in. Reality is a little different than you’d pictured. The entrance is impressive, sure, but what you’re staring at is even more so. Box after carefully labelled box is packed atop one another, stacked six deep on a never-ending series of steel shelves. 

You could spend an eternity here learning all of the secrets of Colombia. The implications are mind-boggling, and distantly, you wonder how many other well-hidden rooms the CIA has tucked away across a spread of foreign countries, a never-ending fountain of secrets related to god-knows-what.

Your brain stutters at the thought.

You realize suddenly that Bill is watching you carefully from the corner of his eye, observing your reaction as if he’s surreptitiously taking notes on every thought that flits across you brain. Again, you school your expression, reverting to that practiced, dead-eyed stare of careful neutrality. 

“Cool,” you say, a little breathlessly, knowing that Bill’s eager to wow you, and not seeing any reason not to acknowledge the fact that, yeah, you’re pretty fucking wowed. You turn to face him, ignoring the temptation to sweep your gaze over the many, many labeled files at your eye level. “So, what are we doing here?”

Bill laughs. “I’ll show you.” He leads you past the shelves, and now that you’re behind him, you can’t stop your eyes from tracking over the labels at your eye level. You’re appalled by what you see. 

Shelves upon shelves devoted to Escobar, and even more to the Cali Cartel, all broken down into sections of the individual godfathers. Rodriguez, Herrera, Bejarano, Moncado are all names that catch your eye. There are folders on each major sicario that you recognize from Javi’s info board: Mosquera, Lucumí, Vásquez, Gaviria... the list goes on. Even more files files are labeled Castaño. There’s a whole series of boxes on M-19, and a little past that, an entire shelf devoted solely to FARC. 

It’s more than your mind can possible comprehend in one quick sweep, and hell, that’s just what you could catch at eye level. 

It occurs to you that this is what Steve and Javi are always bitching about. Sure, you’re aware of the ever present pissing contest between the DEA and the CIA, but it’s always been peripheral information to you. Steve in particular is pretty vocal about his frustration with the ‘fucking CIA.’ “Goddamn file’s so redacted that it might as well be scrap,” you can just hear him muttering. 

Christ, if this is the kind of intel that the CIA has open access too, you can kind of see his point. 

Bill stops at a table in the center of the room, indicating it with a sweep of his hand. Reluctantly, you sit, a little annoyed that you’ve got your back to him now, but not feeling comfortable enough to twist around to track what he’s doing. Your instincts are screaming at you that this is a test. A big one. So you wait demurely in your tiny plastic chair, your hands folded primly in your lap, listening intently as Bill shuffles for something behind you.

After a long moment, Bill leans his hip heavily against the table, just a hair too close to your shoulder for you to be totally comfortable. You don’t have time to think on that, though, because he’s sliding a black and white photograph under your nose for you to view.

The man that leers up at you has a pinched face beneath a deep brow. His nose is long and lopsided, as if it’s been broken at least once. His thinning, limp hair hangs low over his eyes, giving him a mysterious, almost rebellious look. His mouth is wide, crooked teeth exposed in an open-mouthed grimace. He’s angling toward the camera, obviously unaware of its existence, leaning forward with a machine gun cradled to his chest.

“Feo,” you say instantly, your mouth working before your brain can catch up. You recognize him from the evidence board in the DEA office, and even more from your conversations with Javi. 

Feo is a low level sicario, one that’s just now caught the attention of Search Bloc, mostly due to the recent chatter that Centra Spike has picked up. You’ve yet to get a positive ID on his voice, but he’s been mentioned in several conversations lately, always in reference to ‘drops.���

Javi’s been working deep in the night to decipher these conversations, eager to learn what ‘drops’ Escobar and his sicarios are so desperate to come by.

“Feo,” Bill drawls, a hint of something sharp licking at his tone. You glance up at him, curious. “That’s an unfortunate nickname.”

He’s staring down at you with eyes that are too aware. Probing, assessing. 

Fuck.

“I’ve seen him on the DEA board,” you explain, grateful that you can provide an answer so quickly. You don’t like the way Bill is looking at you, like he’s daring you to confess a sin. 

“I didn’t realize there were many photos of him floating around,” Bill says casually. But you aren’t stupid. You read the threat in his statement, loud and clear.

“It’s a new one,” you reply automatically, feeling as if you’re scrambling to claw yourself out of a hole. 

But this is also true. Feo has been an ongoing mystery to Search Bloc, one that they haven’t taken seriously until recently. You wonder what it is about this man that’s got Bill so on edge. 

Bill hums. “Good eye.”  He hunches over the photograph, so close that you can feel his body heat against your neck. 

“This is Raul Manriquez.” Bill taps the forehead of the man in the photograph, then turns to leer at you. “Apparently, he’s known to his friends as Feo.”

He’s watching you for a sign. You refuse to give it.

“So,” you ask after a beat. Bill folds his arms across his chest, waiting for you to continue. He’s not giving any signs either, the dickwad. “What does the CIA want with Raul Manriquez?” 

Bill has never behaved this way with you before. There’s a certain weight to the way he regards you that hints at paranoia. He’s deeply, almost obsessively interested in this man, and it doesn’t make sense. 

Feo is a sicario, sure. But sicarios are far, far below Bill’s pay grade. The thought is laughable, even.

Something drops in your stomach. If Feo is more than a sicario, as it seems he must be, then it is far, far above your pay grade to be this involved.

Bill pulls out a chair beside you and sits heavily. He leans on his elbow, swinging his legs so that his knees brush your thighs. 

You echo him, carefully positioning yourself so that you’re facing one another, but no longer touching.

“We have intel to suggest that Raul Manriquez is connected with a Russian weapons ring,” Bill starts. You notice for the first time that he looks tired, too, his eyes a little bloodshot, heavy bags dropping darkly beneath them. 

Something clicks in your brain. “He’s Pablo’s weapons guy,” you breathe. The pieces fall together with startling clarity. The drops that the sicarios had mentioned. The fact that Feo seems to stay at the periphery of things, not nearly as involved with the day-to-day bullshit that other sicarios seem to thrive on. “He’s running guns.”

“Among other things,” Bill drawls, seeming thoroughly bored by the turn in the conversation.

You ignore that. Your thoughts are spinning wildly, forging connections, solving problems. Escobar’s got to get his weapons from somewhere. In the back of your mind, you’ve always sort of known this, but the significance of it has stayed firmly out of sight, swamped by other things that, at the time, had seemed far more important. 

But if you could catch Feo… If you could choke off Pablo’s lethality directly at the source…

“We could end this,” you whisper, sitting up to look Bill directly in the eye. Your voice rises. “Bill, if we neutralize Feo, Escobar’s lost his access to his guns.” Something swoops in your heart, and you feel brighter, more energized than you have in weeks. “We can end this war!”

“Oh, the fucking drug war.” Bill scoffs, waving his hand in a casual gesture of lazy dismissal. He looks frustrated, disappointed. “Ears, broaden you horizons a little, sister. Escobar is on the run. When he’s gone,” Bill leans in, the glint in his eye damned near dangerous. “And he will be gone, Ears, trust me.” He huffs a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pitches away to balance on the far feet of his chair, rocking back and forth in a way that reminds you of a restless kid in a elementary school classroom. His eyes are sharp, possessive as they pin yours. “What then?”

You stare at him flatly, a little miffed to have nearly a year of your life’s work brushed aside as if it’s just petty bullshit. 

You shake that emotion away, blinking hard, reminding yourself of where you are, of who your boss is. With the lines as blurred as they are in Colombia, and your unique position dancing between Centra Spike, the DEA, and the CIA, and Search Bloc, it’s easy to forget that ultimately, it’s Bill Stechner who owns you.

For the first time, that thought deeply unsettles you.

Bill falls forward heavily on his elbows, looking at you with a furrowed brow, and you remind yourself for the umpteenth time that this meeting is a performance, one that you’ve utterly and completely bombed until now.

You brain spins, processing the little bits and pieces of information that you’ve been given. Bill sees Escobar’s fall as in inevitability, inconsequential, even. He’s concerned about Feo in the context that he’s connected to the weapons trade in Colombia. 

Quickly, you consider what you know about Bill Stechner. A CIA big wig with a shady-ass military background. A man who’s mind lives in the future. 

A future without Escobar. He’s made that much clear.

“You’re looking to fill a power vacuum,” you announce suddenly, knowing instinctively that you’re not far off the mark. Bill Stechner is a man who is always thinking ahead, studying the political chessboard to analyze his next move, and the one after that, too.

And that truth bomb jars free even more thoughts that have been floating untethered in the back of your mind. When he’s not skulking around his office, Bill is gone for weeks at a time, supposedly off in depths of the amazonian jungle, brushing shoulders with his right winged military buddies. 

Commie hunting.

The pieces fall perfectly into place, painting a sobering picture, and all the while, Bill watches, a sharp little grin playing at his lips as you connect the dots. 

“Bill,” you say, refusing to accept any bullshit. You thump your finger hard against Feo’s leering smirk, pinning Bill with a dark stare. “Is this guy connected with FARC?”

Both of Bill’s brows arch skyward, and he leans back, looking at you with a new light in his eyes. You get the impression that once again, you’ve impressed him. 

You’re not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

“I don’t know, Ears,” Bill admits, glancing away to his hands, which are suddenly curling into fists in his lap. You can tell it really grinds his gears, the uncertainty. “That’s what I want to find out.” 

You consider him carefully, keeping your face expressionless. This is the most open response you’ve ever gotten from Bill, and you file away that information along with everything else you’ve learned today.

It’s a lot.

“What do you need from me?” 

It’s a valid question. Part of you, the part that is equally intrigued and enraptured by Bill Stechner and the CIA as a whole, genuinely wants to help. 

The rest of you is just desperate to get out of this room.

Bill’s lips slide into a knowing smirk. “Well, Ears,” he drawls, eyeing you in a way that makes something sink in your gut. “I’m glad you asked.”

“I’m listening.” You deliberately leave off the ‘sir,’ that you’re tempted to tack on to the end of that statement. Damn your army background.

“This is the moment that we’ve put you in place for,” Bill confesses, hunching forward on his elbows. Again, you get the impression that he’s trying to reel you in, seducing you with a show of honesty. 

You brace yourself. 

“The DEA is interested in this man, too,” Bill starts, shooting you a pointed look that says ‘I know you already know this.’ You keep your face carefully blank, so Bill continues. “I know that they’ve been working to track his location.”

Something cold coils in your heart. “Are you asking me to spy on Search Bloc?” you ask point blank. 

Bill shakes his head. “No, no, no, Ears,” he chides with an expression of extreme patience, as if you’re a child to him. “That would be counterproductive. We’re all on the same team, after all.” He pins you with a dead-eyed stare that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m asking you to fully engage in your position with the CIA.” Bill stresses the last point, again reminding you of who you are, who you answer to. “You’re a liaison.” He hums a little, all casual disinterest, disarming you, reinforcing the bonds of loyalty that he’s forged with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “So, liaise.”

You realize with a starling, icy jolt of clarity that Bill Stechner has tolerated your relationship with Javier Peña for this very reason, that he’s garnered your favor - accepting your transfer request, giving you a raise, buying you drinks, playing your buddy - all in preparation for using you as his own personal mole in the ranks of Search Bloc.

And you’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

Your throat works hard to swallow against a suddenly dry mouth. “I understand, sir.” 

For the first time, Bill doesn’t correct your formality. You hardly notice the shift, though. You’re still reeling from the implications of what he’s asking of you, of how he’s exploited you, taken advantage of all of your vulnerabilities.  Suddenly, you feel as if you’re choking, like a noose is tightening, tightening around your neck. You have to stop yourself from reaching to massage your throat, clenching your hands into tight firsts into your lap instead.

Bill watches it all in cool amusement. “Atta girl,” he praises, and you swear you taste bile. He stands, and you copy him absently, feeling detached and awkward, walking on legs that require all of your attention to keep from trembling. 

Bill claps a heavy hand on your shoulder. His eyes flash with something like pride, and you decide in that moment that you hate him, this motherfucker, almost as much as you hate yourself for falling for his bullshit. 

Goddammit, you’re so fucking stupid.

“Good talk,” he says, and you nod in a way that you hope is contemplative without being telling.

You follow Bill out of the room on wooden legs, your mind spinning with the implications of your conversation. He nods to you as the bookshelf slides shut behind you, and you nod back, relieved to see that he turns to head the opposite direction from the DEA office. 

You glance down at your watch. You’ve got ten minutes if you hurry. With all your heart, you hope that Javi is still working. 

You need to see him.

You push past his glass door, swinging it open hard enough that it bangs ominously against the wall. Javi is still slumped over his desk in the exact same position as before, studying a jumbled series of papers, a half-spent cigarette dangling from his lips.

Your breath catches at the sight of him. 

His head snaps up at your noisy arrival, dark eyes narrowed at the intrusion. His expression softens when he sees that it’s you. 

“Ears.” His voice is a sigh, a release of that same tension that you feel leaking from you own bones, and you dart forward, heedless of who might be watching beyond the glass walls.

“Hey,” you say, shoving aside an opened manilla folder to create a bare space for you to lean against. Javi doesn’t seem to mind that in the least, so you flop up onto his desk, pressing your thigh against his elbow, enjoying the feeling of just sharing the same space.

Javi glances at you, and your something lurches in your chest as you take him in. He looks haggard, exhausted, dark bags gathered beneath his bloodshot eyes like he hasn’t had good night’s sleep in far too long. 

“Another little chat with Stechner?” he grouses, peering up at you with narrow gazed suspicion. 

Your heart sinks, and you have to blink hard against the onslaught of his ire. Javi’s always been grouchy when he’s tired, and there’s nothing that drives him into a funk faster than any mention of Bill Stechner. It’s as if he has a sixth sense in that regard, like he can smell Bill on your skin. 

And that’s a gross thought.

Until now, Javi’s attitude had irked you, and you’d written it off as petty, just another brand of that delightfully obnoxious possessiveness that he’s continuously displayed since your apartment was bombed.

But dammit, you’re the moron here, not Javi. He’d been right not to trust Bill.

You shut your eyes tightly. You wonder if Javi should even trust you, given your most recent assignment. 

“Please don’t,” you whisper, not knowing how to put your many worries into words, and Javi must read your conflicted mood, because he lets the subject drop. He huffs, his attention falling back to the open file on his desk, his long fingers working little tapping patterns into its intricate woodgrain.

You follow his gaze, noticing that he’s been pouring over the same photograph that Bill had shown you in the white room. Feo’s ugly mug leers back at you, a knowing, secretive smirk playing at his upturned lips, like he’s mocking you, the motherfucker.

A flood of emotions swamp you. You’ve watched Javi squinting down at this same photo for days, his mind spinning as he attempts to tease out connections, completely stumped as to how this unassuming, ugly man fits into the bigger picture of Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. 

And now you know, but there’s not a damn thing you can say about it. Bill’s going to be watching you. Hell, he’d admitted as much today. Verbatim. If he thinks that his little spy is sharing classified CIA intel with her DEA boyfriend… 

Well, honestly, you’re not sure what would happen. You just know that it would be bad news for you, and probably even worse for Javi.

You release a deep, broken sigh, exhaling though your nose. You wonder how you’re going to balance it all, working for Bill without betraying Javi.

Well, you absolutely refuse to do that. Fuck Bill Stechner for even asking.

But now, watching Javi huddled over his messy desk, squinting in the dim light because he refuses to wear his fucking glasses, frazzled and careworn and a little cranky, something pulls at your chest. 

Refusing to share this intel feels a lot like a betrayal already, and suddenly, you’re desperate to confess it all to him, to crawl into Javi’s lap and spill your guts and cry and beg for his forgiveness for blowing off his concerns about Stechner, for even entertaining the thought of withholding information from him.

Just as you feel like you’re ready to burst, Javi sighs deeply, flopping the file shut. He grinds out  his cigarette and turns to glance at you, his eyes dark with need. 

Your breath catches.

Then, without a word, Javi pitches forward to rest his head against your thigh. He nuzzles there for a moment, and you find yourself carding your fingers through his hair, helpless against the temptation to touch him, comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a long moment.

“Shh,” you whisper. Guilt gnaws at you. You’re the one who should be sorry. 

But Javi huffs a hot little breath against your leg, and you brush aside all thoughts of who should trust who, of loyalty and ethics and treason and chain of command. Right now, your entire universe is resting his head in your lap, and you’re determined to enjoy this moment, fallout be damned. 

“Baby,” he murmurs into the rough denim of your jeans, and your heart flutters. You bring your opposite hand to rest at the back of his neck, savoring the softness of his skin there, winding your fingers through the curls that brush against his collar.

Javi shudders at your touch, and you remember belatedly that you’re stroking at his number one erogenous zone, teasing him mercilessly without meaning him to. 

Reluctantly, you pull away, resting your palm at the slope of his shoulder instead. “Whoops.”

Javi snorts, craning his neck just enough to arch his only visible eyebrow in your direction. The rest of his face is squished into your thigh.

It’s fucking adorable, and it reminds you all over again how little you deserve him, this precious, perfect man. 

“What’s wrong?” Javi asks, like he’s sensed the direction of your thoughts. He twists further to frown up at you. One hand comes up to rest at the juncture of your hip, his thumb pressing deeply into your skin. 

It’s a comfort. 

“Nothing,” you mutter, because you can hardly say ‘everything.’ You busy yourself with working little circles at the base of Javi’s ear, hoping it’s enough to distract him from his line of questioning. 

 It’s not. Javier Peña has a mind like a steel trap, and he notices everything. “Bull,” he breathes, shutting his eyes despite his best efforts. “You’re worried ‘bout something.”

God, he looks wrecked. 

“I just…” You struggle for the right words to to offer him, come up empty. “God, I hate this.”

That one dark eyes flutters open again, soft with concern. 

“I miss you,” you blurt before he can dig any further. And oh, god, that’s not a lie. You miss Javi so much it fucking burns, even with him nuzzled right here in your lap.

Javi draws a deep breath, rolling over to expose the entire left side of his face. His opposite arm comes up to wrap around your waist so that he’s almost hugging you, his fingers digging gently into your flank. “What time is your shift over, baby?” he mumbles, his one visible eye glinting, nearly feverish with need. 

“Mmm,” you hum, your pulse hammering away in response to the how he’s looking at you. “I can probably be home by eight,” you say sadly. 

And really, that’s pushing it. It all depends on what you hear over the frequencies, and how quickly you can vet it. Anybody’s guess at this point in the game.

Javi blusters a deep sigh that prickles hotly at your inner thigh. “Dammit,” he groans, clenching his eyes shut in frustration.

“What’s your morning like?” In the craziness of the past few days, you’ve completely forgotten his schedule. 

“Early,” Javi mutters darkly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Fuck.” 

“Hardly,” he pouts against your jeans.

And god, you can’t blame him. Resentment wells hot in you. You just want a break, dammit, just a single fucking day to spend with the man you love. 

Is that so much to ask?

Suddenly desperate for more contact, you bend down to drop a gentle kiss at his temple. 

Javi inhales sharply as your lips meet his skin, and you lay there like that, contorting over him in a way that makes your sides ache and probably displays half of your bare back to anybody who happens to walk past the glass walls of the DEA office right now. 

You don’t fucking care. You need this. 

“Can I meet you for lunch tomorrow?” you ask as you finally pull away. You haven’t bothered glancing at your watch, but instinct is telling you that you’re already running late for your shift, and your back is killing you.

Javi sits up, slumping against his office chair with his legs splayed sideways. He’s all wild hair and furrowed brow, and if you weren’t at work, you’d be tempted to crawl into his lap and kiss that contemplative look right off his face.

“That might work,” he says slowly, licking his upper lip a little in that way that means he’s thinking hard. Something coils deep in your belly, and you have to shake your thoughts away from those lips and that tongue, and what all they’re capable of. 

Javi cocks a brow at you, tilting his head a little. “What are you thinking?”

Fuck it, it’s late. You slide off his desk, planting yourself in his lap with your legs spread across his, grinding subtly against his thighs. His belt buckle digs into your belly, but you don’t give a shit. You tilt his face to yours, reveling for half a second in his confused, awestruck expression before you plant your lips on his for a deep, gentle kiss. Javi moans a little at the contact, plaint and responsive against your advances, his hands coming to graze at your back reverently. 

“I was thinking I’d ride,” you whisper against the stubble at his lower jaw just as you lean in to suck at it. 

Javi twitches against you, a tiny jolt of his hips, like he’s tempted to take you right here in his rickety office chair, damn the glass walls. 

“I need to see your face,” you continue, pulling his hands up to rest at your ribs as you rock gently against him, a subtle preview of tomorrow’s menu.

Javi shudders beautifully beneath you. “What, this ol’ thing?’ he teases, nuzzling against your breastbone. You can tell that he’s pleased by the thought. 

“This pretty thing,” you correct, working your way back to his lips. 

Javi bites back a groan as you kiss him. “Was asking about food,” he murmurs against your mouth. “But this is better.” 

“Don’t worry about food,” you say, falling forward to nuzzle against his neck. “I’ll take care of it. And it will be perfect.”

Javi snorts. “Better be takeout, then.” He gathers you against his body with strong arms, cradling you close. You breathe him in, reveling in the distant smell of coffee and stale cigarette, all mixed in with a hint of musky sweat and something smoky and dark that is uniquely Javier Peña. 

“God, baby, I’m looking forward to it,” he confesses against the hollow of your throat, and you throw your head back, shut your eyes and let him ravage you there, just for a moment. 

Javi pulls away far too soon, and you shudder at the loss of him, your body damn near trembling with need. 

He rolls back in his chair, glancing up at you with an apology in his eyes. “It’s eight oh five,” he tells you somberly, and you wince, disentangling yourself from him, stumbling out of his chair and straightening your shirt and threading your fingers through your wild hair in an effort to smooth it down. 

“How do I look?” you ask after a moment, backing up enough to give him the full effect of you. 

Javi’s eyes are burning as he takes you in, damn near shimmering with want and exhaustion and pent up emotion, and you curse Bill Stechner once again for butting his big nose into your relationship, for complicating things that should be so fucking simple.

“Perfect,” Javi says lowly, his lips pursed into a thin line, his eyes glittering with some thought that you can’t name. “Fucking perfect.”

Something wrenches in your chest, and you catch your breath, feeling tears prickle at your eyes. You suck them down, frustrated at how often life in Colombia seems to draw your emotions to the forefront. 

Nobody needs that. 

You lean forward, unable to resist dropping one last, chaste kiss to Javi’s forehead. “Go to bed, Javi,” you whisper against his skin. You pull away, a gentle, teasing smile spreading across your face. “Seriously, baby. It’s just getting stupid now.”

You wink at him, and Javi huffs a little laugh. “Get out of here, Ears,” he grouses, waving a lazy hand at you, but his smile is gentle and soft, and you know that he’s recognized the reference for what it is.

Feeling lighter than you have in days, you shoot him one last cheeky wave. Javi blows a little kiss at you in response, and your heart stutters at the gesture. 

God, he’s such a sap.

You damn near dance to the Centra Spike office, slipping into your headphones a full ten minutes later than you really should. Nobody bats an eyelash, though, and you busy yourself with the normal nightshift bullshit, sipping your coffee and switching to the proper frequencies, the promise of tomorrow glowing in your heart. 

♠

notes/confessions:

I struggled so hard with this. I still don’t love it, but I’m sick of looking at it, so here ya go. Enjoy.

Okay, I know I have thrown some massive plot things at you this week. I know it’s complicated, and I know it’s a lot. Feel free to ask me questions. I’ve tried to make things as clear as possible, but I’m only human, Narcos is complicated af anyway, and Better Love is even worse, probably. 

Look for updates to slow back down again, because a) I actually do have a job, and b) we’re getting close to the point where I’m going to have to start posting If I Fall, and I want to have my chapters outlined a little better and maybe even a few deep before I do that. Look for a few little fluffy one-shots scattered between then and now, but guys... for the most part, the pieces are in place, and we are in the home stretch - of the setup, that is. 

Holy fucking shit.

Tags:  @jedi-mando, @perropascal, @hotspacepilots, @mostly-megan, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty, @lv7867, @pascalisthepunkest, @sarahjkl82-blog, @corrupt-fvcker, @artsymaddie, @leonieb, @justanotherblonde23, @princess-and-pedro

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me, @mandoandgrogu, @hybrid-in-progress, @va-guardianhathaway, @speakerforthedead0, @feminist-violinist, @herefortheart, @dontmindifidontt, @blo0dangel 

[skellebonez]

I AM SORRY FOR THIS SKELLE BUT I MUST: 5 (kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here),6 (let's make a deal, shall we?) and 41 (can you teach me how to do that) with the demon bull fam and mk with a little hint of 64 (I may have eaten seven of them already). NOW GO HAM MY DUDE

Oh I had way too much fun with this one. I took S2E4 (spoilers mentioned for that!) and some tweets made by one of the show producers on the same day as fuel for a very silly idea I had. I don't write what can be considered "Crack treated seriously" (or at least semi-seriously, this is not a 100% serious fic) often but when I do I go hard. This is more focused on MK and others than SpicyNoodles so it's a bit more gen fic than a full on ship fic as well.

Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here/Let's make a deal, shall we?/Can you teach me how to do that?/I may have eaten seven of them already.

"Red..." MK started off slowly, watching as his boyfriend's face flushed and twisted in embarrassment. "Can you tell me why your mother showed up at my apartment and used her wind vortex thing to teleport us here without an explanation? And then left us in your..." He looked around, noting that aside from the excessively large throne and two smaller thrones beside it this room looked like a... "Living room? On a couch?"

"I can-" Red Son started, raising a hand before pausing a frowning deeply. "Actually, no, I can't explain. This is just weird, even by my parent's standards. I have no idea what is going on, but since you're still here..." He shrugged with a hopeful smile, shaky through the uncertainty. "Maybe it's not bad? I mean, if Mother was truly upset or wanted to do something bad surely she would have not left us to our own devices. Maybe she’s... uh... happy I finally have a boyfriend?”

At the pointed raise of an eyebrow from MK that hopeful smile faltered a bit. Happy Red Son had a boyfriend for the first time in a couple centuries? Under different circumstances he wouldn't doubt that! Happy when that boyfriend was MK?

Oh he did doubt that.

He knew that they shouldn't have been sneaking around the way they had been. It had made sense at first, two people on opposite sides of a feud lasting centuries who discovered they actually enjoyed spending time together more than fighting each other. One who decided he very much would rather not follow through with any kind of domination and see his family hurt, who realized "actually my sworn nemesis isn't so bad", and another who decided "my life is already weird enough, why not give this befriending my enemy thing a shot".

And then one thing lead to another and before they knew it their secret friend meet up became a secret boyfriend meet up. They'd managed to keep everything under wraps for a while (except from Mei because, well... she was his best friend! He couldn't not tell someone and she would have found out fast if he wasn't obvious, and she had quickly become a mutual source of support for both of them), though MK knew Pigsy and the others knew something was up. They didn't question him, though, aside from the occasional good natured jab. "Wow MK, you seem happy today. Got any plans?" and that sort of thing. They seemed to trust him to make his own decisions, as long as he was happy and healthy and eventually told them. (Sun Wukong, however, may have caught in a little when he jokingly asked if MK had gotten a boyfriend and MK had choked on his drink. He never brought it up specifically after that but he was smart. Too smart.)

Red Son, on the other hand, was fantastic at keeping secrets when he tried. Or MK thought he was... the last few months gave no indication that either of his parents had discovered their little sneaky rendezvous. Then Princess Iron Fan broke into his apartment and, well, here they are. Clearly something had gone wrong somewhere along the line.

Before MK could follow through with any questions of whether or not there could be a fate worse than instant death that involved lulling him into a false sense of security, the two men froze at the sound of quickly approaching voices.

“Could this not have been done another way, my dear?”

“Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here, you know that. Noodle Boy is not that gullible, contrary to what we first believed.”

Ah... shit... Red Son’s parents.

Mk quickly ran through all the possessions he had in his apartment and wondered if he had time to text Mei or Pigsy the world’s fastest will and testament and if that would be legally binding. He just hoped he had something for Pigsy to handle the Phantom Orderer they'd had for the last year.

They always ordered on the app and prepaid and managed to leave him a sizeable tip in his tuk-tuk after he dropped off the food at whatever random location they indicated.

"Good," PIF's voice rang clear, far faster than he could even attempt to pull out his phone, and MK turned to see that she was casually lounging on the shoulder of the Demon Bull King. She jumped down, her wind lightening her fall so much so that she barely made a sound when her feet touched ground. "You've made yourself comfortable."

MK couldn't bring himself to move, as much as he very dearly wanted to run away as quickly as possible. Yes, he was The Monkie Kid and had progressed far enough that he could probably escape without much problem. Yes, he and DBK had had an understanding after the White Bone Spirit and Lunar New Year Festival (though he still didn't know if PIF ever found out about that one). Yes, Princess Iron Fan had shown little interest in him before and had even worked beside him with no complaints (she didn't even care enough to attack during the Food Wars thing!). But that was all before she apparently found out he was dating her son behind her back while they were technically still enemies.

He was glad at that moment that she had grabbed them before they went to get lunch... his stomach was doing back flips that would make a gymnast jealous.

"Uh, yes Miss-Mrs-Muh-M- Princess Iron... Fan?" MK couldn't help but stutter awkwardly, holding onto the hem of his jacket and worrying it as he tried to keep his composure. He looked beside him, watching as Red sat straighter and kept an even expression on his face that he couldn't quite place. His hair seemed to spark softly.

Though she raised a brow at this, PIF didn't comment on that at all. Instead she made her way to the other couch across from them as opposed to what was clearly supposed to be her throne, leaning forward right her elbows on her knees and her fingers laced together in front of her. DBK stopped behind her, seemingly content to stay standing.

"Noodle Boy... you prefer to go by MK, is that correct?" She started, and he nodded slowly in confused response. "Hmn... so. You've been dating my son for quite some time. Many months... no, a bit over a year if I am not mistaken in how long his behavior has changed." 'Oh shit' went MK's brain. "You must be quite serious, if you're willing to go through so much just to see each other. Late night meetings. Secret hideaways. Sneaking onto Flower Fruit Mountain, even." 'Oh SHIT' it repeated in horror. "That's quite the dedication to show toward anyone... I hate to admit it, but I am quite impressed." 'OH SH-wait what?'

"Bw-huh?" Was what MK managed out, half a sound that was almost a word and half a squeak of confusion.

"The fact I myself remained oblivious until only a few weeks ago is quite something. Let's make a deal, shall we?" She continued, sitting back straight and looking like the proud Princess she was and not like a woman sitting on a couch that looked comically small in front of her enormous husband. "You and Red Son no longer have to hide your relationship from us and in exchange..." she paused, as if relishing the building tension between herself and the couple before her. "You will come over at least once a week so we can get to actually know you properly."

MK froze. Red Son froze even more.

Then his entire head lit ablaze as he jumped up and gestured at his mother with a gaping mouth. "Th-that's it!? I-I was... I was RIGHT!?"

PIF barely reacted to this, merely lounging sideways as she put her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her cheek on her hand.

"Whatever you were right about, I suppose you were. But yes," she shrugged, honestly looking... kinda happy? "Has this been about a year ago I perhaps would not have understood what you saw in Nood-MK. But I can see how happy you have been lately, and there's something about him that is like... what did you say he was like, darling?" She turned to DBK, who shrugged himself with an unreadable expression.

"A ball of sunshine given human form."

... that was not what MK ever expected to hear from the Demon Bull King's mouth...

"Yes, that's it," she nodded as if this was completely normal and ignored how Red Son flopped back down onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I'd hate to admit it, but you've grown on us through out sparse interactions. Somehow. And we have been eagerly waiting for the day we could finally welcome someone into our son's life. So what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

She seemed... serious. MK may not know her that well, but it was clear to anyone when she wasn't being so.

"Uh... o-ok? Sure?" MK said softly, nodding in amazement as DBK and PIF actually smiled at this.

This was the strangest day of his life, beating our every single demon fight and even the day he got the Monkey King's staff. But he'd take this strangeness over the alternative 500 times over.

"Excellent," DBK nodded himself, there was a lot of that about. "That seems to have worked out n-"

Everyone paused at a loud grumble echoed the room, all turning to Red Son as he flared up in embarrassment this time.

"Don't look at me like that, we were supposed to eat half an hour ago and I am starving," Red Son grumbled as he sat up, not looking anyone in the eye. "I don't suppose we could. Eat now? Please?"

Despite the situation, MK couldn't help but smile at his pouting.

"I could bring us some food from Pigsy's?" MK offered in an attempt to contribute. Something. "I mean, I know Red likes it and you kinda seemed to like it the one time you tried it and... uh... yeah."

"Actually... I may have eaten seven of them already..." PIF admitted, looking away in embarrassment. "l've tried not to give into the temptation, but your father's noodles from the Food Wars were so... I just can't resist ordering some secretly after 5 or so weeks!"

"So you're the phantom orderer!" MK gasped out in shock, but after a moment he frowned and rubbed the back of his head. He had a bit of an idea. "Well... I could... make some for us instead?" He ammended his offered softly. "I may not make it exactly like Pigsy does, but I can get pretty close as long as you have the ingredients! And you wouldn't have to worry about me going there and coming back! We can eat like. Immediately!"

"I think that sounds acceptable," PIF said with a nod as she stood, but MK could see a bit of excitement sparkling in her usually cold eyes. "Come, Red Son. I need to discuss some upgrades the Bull Clones have been asking for with you. Your father can assist him in the kitchen until we are done."

Red looked over at MK and only stood to follow his mother once he nodded, giving his father a pointed look before exited the room. MK, in the meantime, looking up at DBK with a gulp and followed him as he lead the way toward their kitchen.

It was... well, bigger than he was used to. But pretty normal, regal size and decor aside. And it seemed, once he was given the nod of ok from his host (and wasn't that a bizarre thing, DBK and PIF being his hosts on a home visit to his boyfriend's parents... he was going to need to get used to that) he checked the fridge and counters and found he had just about everything he needed to make what he had in mind.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" DBK asked after a moment, startling MK into nearly dropping the sauce he needed for the broth. "Not the recipe itself, just..." He gestured to the counter. "Red Son has a bit of a proclivity toward cooking and he's been trying to get me involved, but we've never cooked anything like. That."

His words were awkward and stilted, but MK could tell he was trying. The same way he could tell PIF wasn't kidding with her offer. They just seemed to... want to get to know him as a potential... son-in-law... huh.

"Sure, but you're gonna want to shrink down a bit for this."

Lunch turned out amazing and, while awkward (much like most of the day)... it was nice not to have to hide their dating for once. And Red actually seemed pretty happy! Though he learned quickly that the Monkey King was still a bit of an (understandably) sore subject that was best avoided. For now.

Maybe not forever though.

(When PIF very not subtly dropped him and Red Son both off inside Pigsy's Noodles after their lunch, the only response he got was a "oh, so they finally found out huh? Looks like things went well" from Pigsy and Tang. Maybe he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was...)

[snapefiction]

#21. Christmas Present - Snapemas Challenge

A/N: Day 21 of Snapemas! I hope you like it! This one is a little bit longer. I hate proof reading so much it stops me from uploading  Christmas is so close now! I can't wait! ahhhhhhhh I will upload more - I promise (I just dunno when)

Idea from @deepperplexity ´s Writing Challenge ! Check her Writings and the other Snapemas posts out! :)

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Pairing: Severus Snape x Professor!Teacher

Warnings: Mention Cursings, Slight NSFW mention of cookies - might make you hungry - atleast I got hungry - I love cookies

Word count: 5941

Y/N - Your Name, Y/L/N - Your last Name, Y/H/C - Your Hair Colour

#21.Christmas Present

,,O-Oh Professor Snape, before you leave I uh wanted to ask you something." In response he just rose his eyebrow and stared down on you. You laid down the Silverware on your Plate as the other Professors continued to eat their lunch.

,,I saw that you have quiet a big collection of books and I wondered if you're in possession of one I have been looking for to read for very long." Sighing he wetted his lips. He wasn’t even hiding his boredom. What a great Start, you thought to yourself.

,,Which one are you looking for?" Smiling you set your drink aside. ,,It's a rare one from Scotland. ,The correct way of Potion brewing and wild Herbology'." Now his face looked like your answer might actually have impressed him. ,,I am able to call one of these copies mine."

,,Oh really?" Your excitement seemed to confuse him slightly so you fixed your posture, flattened down your dress and collected your words together. ,,Would you mind if i would borrow it?" You followed him like a lost Puppy as he kept walking down the great hall.

,,You can pick it up tomorrow after lunch at my chambers."

,,Thank you, Professor!“ Smiling you first thought about hugging him but as your arms almost flew around him you backed up and held out your hand. ,,Sorry." Thinking about wether he should take my hand or not he finally decided to get up only to turn around on his heels. As always he vanished within seconds into the dark corridors. The Butterflies in your stomach went crazy now so you just tried to hide your smile as got up yourself to walk the other way leading towards your classroom.

In the next Morning you hurried your whole way up to the mountain where you just recently found a dead Acromantula. It has been two days ago when you have had spotted her. Actually you intended to let her rest in peace but you really wished you could give Severus something in return of his grace. So you quickly pulled out something out of your bag to catch the rare venom dripping from it's teeth. Actually it could become quiet dangerous up in here but since you went there almost everyday you felt more than just safe.

After the jar was full you went on your way back to the castle. It wasn't a too long way. It only took an hour and a half and you also got to take some ingredients you needed for your classes with you too. After you got everything secured in your class stocks  and changed your dress you went to lunch. Severus already sat at the unpredictability long table. Smiling you sat down next to him trying to hide your excitement. A good Book was always making you nervous. Not to mention a Book you have been looking for since so long and loaning it from a person you truly kind of liked?

,,Hello Professor Snape, I hope you're doing alright?" You chattered but got interrupted as the food appeared on the table. He wouldn’t have continued the Conversation anyways. After something that felt like an eternity but turned out to just have been 20 minutes you walked next to Severus towards his chambers. You told him about the new Paper you got from the Ministry about magic beasts - even if he didn't asked for it. But you knew if you didn't want to walk in silence you would have to talk yourself.

,,Theres even an article about Muggle Medicine in it. They test it on animals. Did you knew that? That’s so cruel.“ You noticed how he rolled his eyes on your words but you just simply knew he didn't dislike you as much as he disliked Gilderoy Lockhart. As you reached his door he quickly opened it with his wand. ,,Enter." Allowing you to step into his chambers. Nervously you closed the door after you. As he went to his shelf to look for the book you quickly opened your bag. He was quicker than you were so he just stood in front of you and held out the book.

,,One second - I almost got it!" And just by that you were able to grab the small jar. After you held it into the light and put it in his hand you took the book in return. Already admiring the Front Cover.

,,I know it's not much, but I just wanted to give you something as appreciation for the loaning." You Mumbled while scanning the little details stencilled in the edges.

Curious he inspected the label. ,,Where did you get it? So freshly?" Professor Snape quickly asked now, surely interested.

,,I uh - from the left Mountains. I found a dead Acromantula two days ago. I thought the Venom might come in handy for potions." You now looked back up at him. Your smile was wider than usual, you were just so happy about the possibility to finally read this book.

,,It - uh - yeah. Do you know the value of it?" His eyebrows arched.

,,Of course I do. But there's nothing as value as finding something you've been looking for since a long time." You smiled mumbling as you now opened the first pages of the book. Small golden details shined into your eyes. ,,Wow." You mumbled. He didn't even try to hide his stares at you as you looked through the pages and you could feel how he tried to be nice for once.

,,Would you like to sit down and have some tea? You can read it here while I'm brewing and prepare my-“

,,I'd love to." You admitted. Your eyes connected instantly as you closed the book to press it on your chest while sitting down on his couch. The first few moments as you sipped your teas remained silent until you just couldn't take it anymore.

,,Where did you get it? The book I mean." His beautiful dark eyes finally dared to look back at mine and he explained.

,,Hagrid is friends with someone who knew the Author. So as I once helped him out in his garden he just gave it to me." You felt like his voice was more quiet than usual and you had to listen even more carefully. His voice made something blossom inside of you. Butterflies flying, Flowers blooming, Sunshine finally hitting my skin? It felt all the same- incredible sweet and addictive.

,,That's very Kind." The Afternoon continued. Your Conversations were really short but you enjoyed every word. He chooses his words wisely which was the total opposite to you. You spoke as soon as a small thought came to your mind trying to fill the silence. It was like you balanced the Smalltalk out. Spending time with him meant learning to worship his words and worship a peaceful silence. As the Clock strikes 7pm he looked up to you. You grabbed your Coat. ,,Are you going to eat Dinner tonight?“

Shaking his head he pointed to a tower of Notebooks, meaning he was still to intertwined in his Job Tasks.

,,I See.“ Chuckling you pushed a strain of your Hair behind your ear. ,,Thank you for letting me read the Book and the Tea. I really enjoy it.“ For a second he just looked at you before his lips parted.

,,You can stop by and read anything you want, whenever you want.“ Listening close to his voice you noticed how his Perplexity from earlier hasn’t faded yet. But before he’d cancel his Offer you accepted.

,,I’d love to. I´ll see you tomorrow then, Professor.“ Waving over to him you turned around to walk to the great hall. Your Cheeks still beheld the pink touch you got from when you were around him. It was calming you to spent Time with him. You felt more relaxed than sleeping out, hearing rain or hearing your favourite song. He made it all better, he made you feel more safe than anyone else by just offering you tea. Dear Merlin, do you even listen to yourself? How can you be so in love with him after just 5 Months working at Hogwarts?

As your seventh Month at Hogwarts began so did the Winter Time. Christmas was only three weeks ago by now. It was till too long for you liking. Yesterday, a rainy Sunday you started to bake cookies and slightly decorate your room more festive. The Holiday Spirit already took you over in July and now it was finally your favourite time of the year. Smiling you walked over to Severus Classroom to meet him for your daily Meetings. You came here daily to read, grade Papers from your students or just drink some tea with him. It became a loved habitat of yours and he seemed to enjoy it himself as he grew to become a friend of yours. Knocking he almost instantly let you in.

,,I´m already making Tea. I´ll be right there.“ You heard him shout from the Kitchen.

,,Okay.“ You responded as you quickly laid down all your Notebooks you still had to grade and placed the box filled with cookies on his Table. You made some just for him knowing he has a sweet Tooth. Who else would drink their Tea with at least two or three tablespoons of sugar if it wasn’t their sweet tooth speaking out of themselves. Slightly chuckling you sat down on one of the Students Desks to start grading. You could simply work better on one of these as on one of the Teachers Desks. They just seemed too tall and too uncomfortable for your liking.

,,What is that?" Curious you turned around. ,,What's what, Professor?" He rolled his eyes as he heard the name you used. ,,On my desk."

,,I made cookies for you." As he continued to stare at you, you began to explain it to him. ,,I made some chocolate chip cookies, cinnamon ones and some plain ones. I know you like pumpkin so I bought some special cookie cutters at Hogsmead last week." Smiling you went up to the box, opened it up for him and showed him the small pumpkin shaped cookies.

,,See? Do you want to try some?" With caution he carefully took one and bit the half of it off. Waiting for his reaction as he chewed then putting the box aside and going back to your seat. ,,Do you like them?" He still kept chewing.

,,Actually- yes." A small smile made it's way across his lips and he ate the other half too.

,,I really hoped so." Sitting back down you waited until your Cup of Tea which now flew towards you sat in front of you. Severus always made the best tea.

Grading the last Homework you walked over to Severus huge Library Wall only to take the Book you used to read in the Daily. With butterflies in your chest you continued to read the few last pages of the book. You only had one third of the book left and by all means you wouldn't want to lose your tradition. So it happened that you started to reread the pages twice so you would have to spend more time with him or just in his chambers. Actually it’d only take you around 3 days to finish this big book but you didn’t wanted your shared time to end. The time has passed so quickly that you could feel how your body resisted to leave as it was time for dinner.

,,Are you coming with me for Dinner today?“ Severus just smiled. He was already done with his Papers and laid aside the Newspaper he just began to read.

,,Sure.“ He said only to follow you. He told you about something that had happened in his class today and about what he just read in the Newspaper.

,,No way!“ You Laughed grabbing his Arm in disbelief. ,,Imagine this happening to you- Merlin!“ Now he had to chuckle as well. He could make you laugh louder than anyone else. His dry Humor was just the best. After Dinner he walked you to your Chambers and you thanked him as always.

,,Good night, Severus. I see you at Breakfast.“ He put on a slight smile.

,,I´ll see you at Breakfast.“ His dark silhouette faded in the corridors and so did you in your chambers.

The weeks until Christmas was just a few days ago were just stressful. You and Severus almost never talked and just worked which was kind of tiring  you but you knew as closer as Christmas was around as closer was the Relief of all this Stress. After Lunch you planned to head straightly back to Hagrid helping him taking care of new magical Creatures he cared for. The small Bowtruckles were new here in this Region and you were too eagerly happy to get a chance to study them and present them in your classes next year. After downing your Tea you wanted to say goodbye to Severus before leaving but he stopped you at the end of the great hall.

,,Um err- would you mind meeting me later in my chambers? I've got something for you and - err- maybe I can cook dinner for us.“ Severus nervously stuttered while hiding his face with parts of his hair. He always made pauses while talking but you could tell he was acting a little bit shy and nervous. Smiling you nodded in agreement. That’s be a great opportunity to give him his Christmas Present you just finished.

,,I'll be there by 8." He quickly left your side in his well known manner. With his flying cape, showing off his presence. As he was gone and you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore you began to notice how red you turned. Your whole face was warm and your heart flattered. That always happened when Severus is near you. You had to admit, you like him. More than just a regular coworker. More than a friend. Maybe that's why you hurried the whole day to be there perfectly on time in front of his Chambers. Your heartbeat crawled up into your head and your hand was slightly shaking. Nervously you fixed your hair one last time and knocked ever so slightly.

,,Come in.." Severus quickly opened the door. ,,Please, come in." He tried his best to smile warm-hearted but you could see him being nervous again.

,,Good evening." He kept his Head low. You'd love to see his face.

,,Good evening , how are you?“ The both of you talked about your day and silently took a seat on the couch after finishing the smalltalk. The warmth of the Cabin reached you to the armchair. Severus sat across of you and began to rumble with his words.

,,I - Yesterday I went to Hogsmeade. I had to get some books and ingredients. And erm I - I came across the jewellery store and uh something catched my eye. I bought it for you." You felt your cheeks glow again. Severus stood up to grab a small package from above the cabin. For you?

,,But Severus- you didn't have to." Flustered you accepted the package as he handed it to you.

,,But it's almost Christmas and I really wanted to get you something." He almost whispered. With slightly shaking hands you opened it up. A small silver Hair needle fell into your hands. It was very pretty handcrafted and at the top was a green stone. It looked like it belong to a Slytherin and you couldn't help but smile. It was the prettiest thing you have gotten since a long time and it really made your heart flatter. The beautiful silver and the pretty green made it look like it belonged to someone royal.

,,It's so pretty." You looked up to his curious eyes. ,,Thank you so much , Sev. I don't know what to say." Small tears formed in the corner of your eyes and you couldn't help but cover your mouth while looking at the beautiful accessory. The Stone seemed to shine because of the dim light from the cabin. He really got something for you.

,,You like it?" Severus asked and his nervousness faded.

,,I love it." With a bright smile you stood up and fell into his arm. Crossing your arms around his neck and thanking him a million times. As you slightly let go of him you looked at him joking. ,,But you know those aren't my house colours right?" Again he smiled.

,,I know. I - I wanted to give you something that uh reminds you of me." Your smile faded and now the first tears started to roll down your face. It was such a thoughtful gift with a great meaning. You couldn't remember getting such a thoughtful and nice gift ever before.

,,Is everything okay,dear?" He hasty insured while checking your face.

,,Yes." You took a deep breath. ,,Yes. I will just dearly miss you over the holidays." He softly cupped the side of your arms and petted them before pulling you close again. This Time you could directly listen to his heartbeat. It was the first time he hugged you. You always hugged him but he never tried to hug or touch you.

,,I'll miss you too, I guess." He said almost cooing. ,,But maybe we can meet sometime? I mean only if your schedule allows and you're willing to-"

,,I'd love that, Sev." Now he pushed you away a few inches to look into your face. Your Tears already have stopped now by the feeling of being flustered taking over.

,,Sev?" He asked now.

You chuckled. ,,I think that's a cute nickname." You stated and he couldn't help himself but smile as well. He liked it too. ,,Are you ready for your Present?“ As you sat down again , took out the present of your small bag you began to nervously smooth out the edges of your wrapping paper. ,,I feel like I should have get you something else after receiving your gift." Embarrassed you turned red and handed it to him. But Severus didn’t mind, excited he opened it up. After holding it in his hands he began to smile widely. A black scarf which- for once- matched his height and wasn’t way too short like the regular ones.

,,Did you made it yourself?" He asked after noticing his small initials stitched into the fabric as he brushed over them with his fingertips.

You nodded. ,,Yes.“ Smiling he moved closer to you and pulled you into a hug. ,,That's the best thing I've ever gotten." He admitted and enjoyed being close to you in this intense Moment.

,,I'm glad you think so." Feeling relief you noticed how short your breath has gotten by now.  What’d you give to be even closer to him by now. Seconds passed and you didn’t let go of him, you simply didn’t dared to. The Moment he’d let go of you, you’d miss his touch instantly. But when his tall hands slowly stroked over your back you didn’t  felt like he’d want to let go as well.

A loud knock made you both tear apart. Scared you looked back to Severus. He looked as confused as you did.

,,Enter.“ Grabbing your Wand you got up, walking together with Severus to the door to see who interrupted you.

Hagrid almost tripped into the Chambers. ,,Ms. YLN, here you are. I need ya help! It’s about the Babies.“ He looked so panicked and your heart almost ripped apart but you just gave Severus a quick smile.

,,I´m sorry, I erm it’s urgent. .. I uh can be back in an hour. Is that alright?“ He quickly nodded and by that Hagrid grabbed your Hand to rush after him. Following this Giant Man you sighed. There was no worse timing right now. He pulled you right out of your Bubble of being close to Severus.

,,What happened to them?“ You asked him as he continued to hurry towards his hut.

,,Somethin´ in da forbidden Forrest bid them. Dunno know what to do!“ Pressing your Lips together you thought about Spells which could help you. If they were so small it could quickly be too late for any help if they didn’t got the right help. Quickly running to the small Baby Bowtruckle laying on Hagrids Table you inspected their wounds.

,,Shh, it’s okay. Let me have a look.“ The tiny leg was bent in weird directions and a small bite was visible. Taking out your wand you quickly healed the wound and took care of the small lad.

,,Do you have an idea what could’ve bitten them?“ Hagrid just shook his head. Sighing you let the Bowtruckles walk over your hand.

,,I can take them with me. It’s not the same like the forrest but they could grow up being safe.“ Hagrid helped you bringing them to your classroom before you quickly hurried back to Severus. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too mad.

Knocking you flattened the wrinkles on your dress. Severus opened the Door rather slow. He nervously scratched his head. His black hair was now tucked behind one of his ears.

,,I wasn’t expecting you to be back so quickly. Or to return at all.“ He admitted and you could already smell the Dinner he was cooking.

,,It was about the Bowtruckles I told you about. I brought them to my Classroom. Now I’m all yours, I promise.“ He let you slide inside and as you watched his movements you noticed that he was as flustered as you were.

,,If you want to you can keep reading until I’m done cooking?“ His Insecurities were still visible but as you smiled at him his tension faded.

,,Sure.“ Approving his idea you made your way to his living room as he continued cooking. As you watched him buzzing around in his kitchen from afar you opened your hair to adjust the hair needle he gifted you earlier. It fitted perfectly. A lot of hair needles were to short for your long yhc Hair but this one could hold everything in place easily and made you feel like a princess. You walked over to the mirror on the wall to look at your hair. You really liked it more this way. He got you the perfect present. Happy about the present you sadly realised how you forgot to bring your present for him at your chamber. You knitted him a scarf because you noticed how he never had one besides him. The green and black matching the house he was the head of.

,,You truly are beautiful." You slightly got scared as you didn't noticed how he stepped behind you. Your cheeks directly became red again. ,,Thank you.“ He took the Book from the top of the shelf where he lastly placed it only to put it in your Hands.

,,I´ll try to hurry.“ He assured before heading back to the kitchen.

If your students would hear his voice right now they would highly doubt it was him. His usual demanding voice now was low and casual and by that he went into the kitchen. Sitting down on his Armchair you could sometimes hear him mutter some small words like ,Fucking garlic' or something else which made you smile even more.

Who would have thought that you would sit on his Armchair on a peaceful night , reading a book as he was cooking for the both of you? It was almost like a date. Well actually that wasn't true. It felt like the future you wished so deeply for as a kid. The only difference was that you imagined it to be your husband but you didn't mind it being Severus. You knew he would never feel the same as you do. It was okay. It truly was. Sometimes you wished you could show him some affection- but he wouldn't like it. Being friends - which was obviously a huge step to make - was totally enough. You could hide your feelings if you had to. Having a good friend was all you ever asked for so you shouldn't bother yourself or even him with feelings who could ruin it all in a minute.

,,In 10 Minutes Dinner will be ready." He loudly announced from the kitchen. Surprised you looked up. He still hurried around the kitchen. Slowly you turned back a few pages. As you were lost inside your thoughts you couldn't remember what you just have had read. Putting a small paper in the book between the pages and closing it you had to sigh. Soon it will be Christmas and it would be your third one in Hogwarts. Maybe Severus would be here? Lost in your thought you walked over the kitchen where you spotted Severus opening some Wine. His arms pulled the cork without any sign of effort.

He scanned my face with his eyes and then made his way over to the oven where he pulled out some casserole. It smelled like heaven and soon the whole kitchen had it in the air. His movements made your Thoughts wander. His Arms were so strong- you never seemed to notice before.

,,Whats on your mind?“ Carefully he added a few last ingredients to the food as he pulled you out of your thoughts.

,,I erm was wondering how you celebrate Christmas?“ You lied blushing as he caught you thinking about him.

,,Actually I don't celebrate it. I don't celebrate anything." Shocked you now looked at him.

,,Not even your Birthday?" He shook his head which made his hair whip.

,,Not even my Birthday."

,,Severus! Who hurt you?" He had to laugh about your unbelievable expression. While pulling out a chair for you.

,,There's no sense in celebrating alone." Severus simply stated, pushing your chair slightly towards the table.

,,Thanks.“ Mumbling you thought about this nonsense. ,,Of course it is! I do it too." You added.

,,Then how do you celebrate it?" He now asked curiously and looked at you sitting down across of you.

,,I always celebrated it with my Family but since I work at Hogwarts I just.. spend it alone. Anyways firstly I get all the presents for everyone and make sure they arrive at the right place. Then I get a Christmas tree and decorate it. Afterwards I bake some cookies and in the evening I sit down to read a book and eat all those cookies. As simple as that." As you finished you expected him to say something but he kept on listening to you. ,,It sounds a little bit sad but it isn't that bad. I uh I try to enjoy my own company." Severus felt a little bit of pity. He knew you are really attached to other people and knowing you spend days which are important to you alone made his heart sink. He simply knew too well how being alone feels like.

,,As I already said, I uh would love to see you.“ He tried to uplift the Mood and placed some Food on your Plates. Nodding you thanked him. ,,I can’t wait.“ You admitted again and held up your Glas of wine.

,,Thank you for cooking for us and thank you for your present.“ He copied your movements and you slightly pushed your Glasses together. After you both took small sips from your wine you began to dine. His eyes always made sure you weren't spitting it out or something but actually you haven't had any reason for it.

,,It's really delicious. I never knew you were such a great cook?“ He chewed up and answered chuckling.

„I haven’t cooked for you before. Or anyone in general, so how would you know?“ You joined his chuckles and took a sip of wine again. As you tried to stretch your legs a little bit you accidentally touched his leg. Instantly his glance got up to yours and you pulled back your legs. It was like a small electric shock. A good one indeed.

,,S-Sorry." Blushing you locked my eyes with your plate. Your heart was pumping so fast you couldn't taste anything  of the food in your mouth anymore. Your nerves got foggy and your hands numb. Carefully you pushed around some broccoli on your plate. You liked touching his leg but he did he too? Did you reveal yourself? Carefully looking up he did the same thing you did a few seconds ago. Moving around some veggies on his plate. Was he bored of you? You didn’t knew. The air filled with so much tense it got harder to breathe. Biting on your lip you got an idea. It would cost some courage but it wasn't impossible to do. If it would fail you could simply excuse yourself by it being an accident but right now you had to know how he'd react. Laying down the silverware silently you carefully stretched out your leg towards his.

Now your legs were touching and you didn't dare to look up. The silence thickened and as it almost got too much he laid down the silverware himself and put one of his hands on your knee. Too excited your breaths got irregular and you could feel his heat storming through your body. With his thumb he started to draw small circles on your leg and as he continued for a while you looked up to him. Your face was probably fully blushed but he didn't seem to care. His dark eyes which have never looked this dark locked with yours. His expression didn't reveal anything. Was he enjoying it? Was he doing it because he thought it was what you wanted? Well, it was what you wanted but he just isn't the type of guy who'd do anything just because he think you’d expect it. Slowly his hand started to wander. A few millimetres upwards and you almost couldn't help yourself. Your thoughts wandered to things you could never say out loud. Imagining his fingers on places of your body you usually only touch myself.

As you realised how shaky your breath left my throat you grabbed your Glas of wine and flushed it all down. A small smirk appeared on his face.

,,Some more?" Quickly you nodded. You´d say yes to anything he would ask you to right now. He had the full control over you, you thought. How could a simple man make you so weak within seconds?

,,Want to continue this on the couch?“ Quick your legs pushed yourself up from the chair and you walked over to the living room. Not being able to answer him with your words. The whole Situation just became more interesting than you firstly anticipated beforehand. The mood has completely changed. There was something else in the air which you haven't felt before that intensive. Severus again opened another bottle of wine and now sat down directly next to you. He never did that. Usually there was atleast one pillow size distance between you or he sat in his Armchair. But now his legs touched yours and his arm touched yours as he leaned forward to the desk to reach for our glasses.

,,Thanks." You whispered and you felt like as if this wasn't anything you could dream of. The smell of his Aftershave filled your nose and the fabric of his trousers against your bare knees got you shaking. Silently you drank the first glass in silence. But at our second Glas he laid his hand on your leg. Not on your knee. On your Leg. Right before the fabric of your skirt started to hide your skin. Did he knew what he did to you? Could he feel your heartbeat? Could he feel your butterflies?

Closing your eyes I felt the alcohol hitting your nerves. It wouldn't take much to make you drunk but right now you felt like you would need every drip of any type of alcohol you could possibly get. Carefully you moved your head to your side to look at his face. He softly swung his wine in his hand and drank it too. His pink small lips cupped the Glas corner  and his hair flew a few inches back as he put his head into his neck and drank up. As he stood his Glas back down you wanted to be more offensive. He seemed to be interested, you thought. Slowly and with my glance on the cabin you widened your neckline to reveal more of my chest. His eyes hushed over to see what you were doing. Slowly, torturing slowly you revealed a small part of your throat. Continuing you showed him more and more. His hand on your leg clutched his fingers a little bit stronger into your flesh. You continued until you almost revealed your bra. As you looked over to him now he smiled slightly.

,,You're beautiful." He whispered. ,,I can only repeat myself.“ Slowly you pushed your weight a little bit up to sit down on his lap. His Hands instantly guided you. Making sure you were comfortable. Now you could hear his irregular breath as well.

,,I really like you, Severus." You admitted as you hugged him closely again. His Hands again rubbed your back and as you felt him stiffen under you you almost inaudible moaned. Hoping instantly this wasn’t the day he’d break your heart by telling you to back off.

,,The last few months uh I felt like I was acting like a freak and it took me some time until I understood that I maybe just got confused by something. Or someone." You now stopped in your tracks to look at him again.

,,Someone?" You asked.

,,You." His cheeks were red. ,,I really like you." He didn't knew where his courage came from but he knew it was the right time to finally admit it.

,,Really?“ You couldn't move out of fear of scaring him and his feelings away. Your heart beat so hard you feared he could see it banging from your chest. Did he really just say that? Or did the wine you had at dinner fogged your senses. Did he really just admit that to you?

,,You Don't have to feel the same but I wanted to let you know that i like you more than just friends.“ As he intended to back up a little bit you quickly moved towards him and pressed your lips against his. In your chest was a firework exploding and butterflies from the night escaping to your stomach. Softly he kissed you back and put his hands on your hips where they used to rest until the kiss was paused so the both of you could catch some air.

,,I like you too. More than just friends“ You whispered smiling.

His lips brushed against your earlobe. The words he spoke made your emotions going even more crazy. You could scream out of tension, happiness and even more out of lust. Being this close to him made you go crazy. You wanted to have Sex with him all night and at the same time you felt like this was an even more intimate Moment than you ever had before.

,,Would you like to stay for the night?" His raspy dark voice sounded like it just got even darker than before.

,,I’d love to.“ And again his Lips touched yours. Slowly and more passionate this time. The Night continued in more and more Intimacy. The Both of you wouldn’t spent Christmas alone this year nor the following ones.

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[omgrachwrites]

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Four

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that  making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil  but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly  woman.

Warnings: fluff, lil bit of angst, pining, so much pining

Words: 2095

Disclaimer: This gif does not belong to me!

A/N: This part is a little bit angsty so I hope you guys enjoy this one! Please let me know what you think and let me know if you want to be tagged, I love you all! xxx

Chapter Four

Sirius wrapped his jacket around himself as he walked down the cold hallways of the castle, it was starting to be a bit of a joke now, all the magic in the world and they still couldn’t do something about the freezing corridors. The boy smiled as the pear in the portrait giggled as he tickled it and the door to the kitchens swung open. Almost all at once there were tons of tiny little house elves bowing before him; they were all saying the same thing.

“How can we help you sir?”

Sirius winced, he didn’t want anyone to serve him, he would have felt sorry for Kreacher – his mother’s house elf – if he wasn’t so awful, “I can sort myself out, thank you. I’m just getting some lunch together for a friend.”

The house elves bowed and let him be. Sirius let out a breath and he starting putting together some lunch for him and Y/N, it included all her favourite things. Sirius and Y/N had a Defence against the Dark Arts exam the following day so they were using their lunch hour to squeeze in a bit of last minute revision. Sirius wanted to make sure that Y/N ate.

When he had grabbed all the food he needed, he thanked the house elves and left the kitchens, almost bumping into his favourite cousin, Andromeda. She was the only one in his immediate family who wasn’t obsessed with all the pureblood mania.

“And, what are you up to Sirius?” she laughed, running her fingers through her long lilac hair, “what’s with all the food?” she asked, peeking into the bag.

“Nosy aren’t we Andromeda?” he smirked before rolling his eyes, “if you must know, Y/N and I are spending our lunch hour revising and I want to make sure she eats.”

Andromeda smirked, fiddling with the end of her tie, “the last time I checked, chocolate covered strawberries weren’t a lunchtime necessity. Is there anything going on between you?” she winked and Sirius scowled, his cheeks flushed annoyingly.

“God, you sound just like James! No, mother, nothing is going on between us,” he narrowed his eyes as Andromeda pulled a tongue at him.

“Wow, James isn’t as stupid as I give him credit for then. It’s a shame that there’s nothing going on between you and Y/N. I really like her,” she smiled sincerely as she jogged ahead to catch up with some of her friends.

Sirius shook his head, Y/N was really pretty and cool, they were friends but they were never going to be anything more than that. Normally, he wouldn’t be spending so much time with her, he’d normally be off with some random girl, but due to their bet, he obviously couldn’t be acting like his usual self. He was determined to win the bet, Sirius had never lost a bet before and he wasn’t going to start now.

As he was walking past the stone ruins on the way to the boathouse he actually caught up with Y/N who had her head in a leather bound book, she had obviously just finished Divination. As he got closer to her he noticed that she had woven tiny daisies through her messy braid.

“Hi, Y/N,” he smiled as she looked up from her book with a bright grin; her cheeks were rosy from the chilly wind, “what are you reading?”

“Oh, this? It’s called, none of your business,” she teased, “Lily lent it to me, it’s a muggle book, ‘The Secret Garden,’ it’s a beautiful story about an orphan.”

“Wow, it sounds like my kind of story,” he chuckled and Y/N rolled her eyes at his dark joke, “what else happens?” he asked, not feigning the interest that he was showing.

She smiled at him as she closed the book with a snap, “if you can study quietly for at least half an hour, I’ll tell you,” she giggled, “what’s in the bag?” she nodded at it.

“Oh,” he started, willing himself not to flush, “its lunch, I wanted to make sure that you ate, I know how you get when you study. You forget to eat.”

Y/N looked taken aback or a second before she recovered, “you really need to stop being so thoughtful. Don’t you have a reputation to uphold?” she smirked.

“Ah, well, you see I’m only thoughtful for you, Y/L/N,” he winked which made her blush and she was silent for a while after.

They had been revising in the boathouse and eating lunch for about twenty five minutes before Y/N looked up from her books, “you’re really good at Defence against the Dark Arts. Why do you need to do any last minute revision?”

Sirius sighed, chewing his lip, “everybody in our class is good at it, and we all feel inspired to be good at it because of the war that’s brewing. I want to learn something that will make me stand out a bit more,” he didn’t want to be good at everything but he just wanted to really excel at one thing. He didn’t think that was too much to ask.

Y/N looked at him thoughtfully, “why don’t you learn the patronus charm? It’s quite difficult but I’m sure you could do it if you put your mind to it.”

“I suppose I could, I’ve never tried. I hardly think I’ll be meeting any Dementors in my future.”

Y/N shrugged before she cast the spell and a patronus in the shape of a vole glided past them before it disappeared, “that was amazing!” Sirius was well and truly impressed, “what memory did you pick?”

She smiled, her pretty y/e/c eyes lighting up, “it wasn’t a memory, it was more of a feeling. I thought of all of us being together forever, we all know that James and Lily will stay together forever and I’m sure they’ll have kids. Lily told me that she wanted two boys and a girl, we’re all going to be together forever, I’m certain of it,” she flushed, “but, I guess it’s kind of silly. Why don’t you try it?”

Sirius pulled out his wand and gulped, feeling a little bit nervous, he tried to muster a happy memory but he fell short the first two times as he could only produce silver vapour from the end of his wand. Y/N told him not to worry but he was determined to produce a fully-fledged patronus. He closed his eyes and took a breath, finding the happiest memory that he could remember.

“Expecto Patronum,” he muttered and finally the patronus – his patronus – bounded past in the shape of a large dog.

“Well done Sirius! That was so good!” Y/N grinned, applauding him, “what was your happy memory?”

“Err,” he debated on lying to her but he hated lying to his friends, “I thought of you Y/N.”

Immediately, Y/N starting stuttering and she glowed a bright red, “m-me? Why was I your happy memory?”

“It was the first time we’d met on the platform, first year. Back in those days I still loved my parents and they weren’t disappointed in me,” he chuckled bitterly, “I didn’t want to disappoint them, I was so scared that I was going to be placed anywhere but Slytherin so I was crying, inconsolable I was. I didn’t know who you were and you didn’t know me but you still walked right up to me, took one look at me and you held my hand. You told me that everything was going to be okay. It was the first time in about a month that I finally felt at ease. Don’t you remember?”

Y/N shook her head, still blushing, “no, I don’t. I’m sorry. Though that does sound like me.”

Sirius shrugged as he felt his face fall slightly, “it doesn’t matter, and it’s stupid. We were stupid kids.”

Though, the fact that she didn’t remember affected him more than he wanted it to.

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Nerves swarmed and built up in your stomach as you dressed yourself in the Gryffindor Quidditch robes, all the training you had done with Sirius all led up to this moment, the try-outs. You had been doing really well in training but an enchanted ping pong ball was definitely not a snitch and some of the people trying out today had played Quidditch competitively before.

You just wanted to make Finn, your little brother proud; you knew that he’d be watching in the stands today. You were doing this for him. You turned around and smiled brightly as your friends walked into the changing rooms to meet you.

“How are you feeling?” Sirius asked with excitement on his face, his grey eyes were bright and alive.

“I’m nervous,” you admitted before looking over at James, “I don’t want any favouritism just because I’m your friend,” you told him sternly while Lily smirked at him.

“Of course not,” he threw his hands up in mock defence, “I’m very professional, Y/N. Though, would you like to go first?”

“Yes please,” you muttered with a grin, you hated feeling nervous, it wasn’t your style. You turned around as someone cleared their throat, it was a handsome someone though he wasn’t as handsome as his brother.

“Good luck for today Y/N,” he smiled, his eyes flashing slightly as he looked over at his brother.

“Thank you Regulus, that’s sweet of you,” you nodded at him with a smile before you looked over at Sirius who was scowling, “oh, don’t be jealous Sirius,” you smirked, nudging him as you all walked across the pitch.

“I’m not,” he scoffed, “but my dear sweet brother needs to make his own friends,” he sighed before he looked at you with warm, soft eyes, “but really, good luck. Give them hell,” he smiled as he walked off towards the stands, you smiled, your tummy doing somersaults as you watched him go.

As James got the stopwatch ready, you mounted your broomstick and waved at Finn who was sitting with Lily, Remus, Sirius and Peter. Andromeda, Sirius’ cousin was also there. James let the snitch free and you zoomed after it, your heart soared as your broom did, you felt very free and you felt like you could do anything. The snitch climbed higher and higher towards the clouds before it circled the stadium. You laughed as you looked below you and saw that the spectators were the size of ants. The snitch forced you to do an impressive loop in the air.

The twitching snitch led you over The Black Lake and you skimmed the water, grinning at your reflection in the dark water. Your hair was a mess but you looked happy, wild and free, it was the way that you always wanted to feel. Your fingers closed around the struggling snitch as it was heading back into the stadium and you let out a sigh of relief.

A couple of days later, Lily all but dragged you out of bed; you scowled at her as she led you down the stone staircase. There was a big group of people all standing around a notice board and some of them looked at you angrily as you approached them. You frowned at them before pushing your way through the crowd and you looked at the board.

An enormous bubble of happiness formed in your chest as you saw that you had made the position of Seeker. According to the notice board you had caught the snitch in the shortest amount of time. The first match was taking place against Slytherin, the day before Halloween which meant that the team had just over two weeks to practise. James had cut it pretty fine to get a team together.

Lily squealed and hugged you, “I’m so proud of you,” you smiled and hugged your best friend tightly, you felt like you were on top of the world.

“Congratulations,” a happy voice spoke up and you looked over Lily’s shoulder to see Sirius beaming at you, when Lily pulled away from you, he engulfed you in a hug, “you were brilliant! Especially when you did that loop, everybody was on the edge of their seats. I’m so bloody proud of you.”

You felt yourself blush and you were glad that your face was buried in Sirius’ chest, “well, it’s all down to you, you helped me. Thank you,” you giggled, he smelled so nice, like wood and cinnamon.

“Well, I am an amazing teacher, it’s true,” he chuckled and you could have sworn that you felt him kiss the top of your head.

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@approved-by-dentists​ @thefuturelawyer​ @a-miserable-hufflepunk​ @firelordmillie​ @seriouslysiriuss​ @sleep-i-ness​ @play-morezeppelin​ @pregnant-piggy​ @sleepingalaska​ @smiithys​

[skeletorific]

This Got Out of Hand (and we’re out of paint): Marvus Xoloto ♦♠Reader

yall i swear i’m gonna get on writing stuff that actually got requested but this idea wouldn’t release me until I’d finished it so here we fuckin go

This simply could not stand.

Black flirting and romance, once upon a time, was a concept utterly foreign to you. It had taken roughly three conversations with Tegiri and Polypa on the topic (and a lot of time spent around Galekh and Tagora) before it had registered to you as anything more than consistent hate fucking and passive aggressive remarks. 

That was before you met Marvus. 

The clown was many things: attractive. Creative. Charismatic. Funny. Way more intelligent than he presented himself as. He was also a shit-starter, would probably pail with Zebruh before he would confess to a genuine emotion without fifteen layers of casual slang and innuendo, and seemed to take intense pleasure in riling you the fuck up whenever he got the chance. One way or another he wormed his way into your head, and suddenly you couldn’t stop hearing his voice in your head even when he wasn’t around. Challenging you, teasing you, testing you, doing his utmost to get you a nice, steaming anger before ruffling your hair with a wink and walking away.

It was also possible you were a little bit smitten with him.

Or maybe a lot. 

Regardless, in time you’d come to understand that it was a mutual thing. For as much as he didn’t show it, you were beginning to read between the many, many lines with the clown. He enjoyed the hell out of you, sure, but he also seemed to find you something of a puzzle. Beyond the fact that you still hadn’t kicked Zebruh to the curb (and he never failed to send you an eye-rolling emoji whenever he appeared in one of your Chittr photos), every story about your past that came up seemed to render him a little bewildered about what it was you’d put up with in order to attain those sweet and lofty fruits of FRIENDSHIP. 

“i mean, lil stab-stab here, lil push off a cliff here, ‘sall gucci sunshine. normal n all that shizz.”  He’d said, in one of his rarer moments of honesty. The fact that both of you had slammed a couple liters of faygo in the aftermath of a particularly exhausting show probably had something to do with it. He lounged on the couch, absently combing fingers through his piles of hair. “but keep hangin out wih m-fers what still wish ya harm, or bloo shizzheads what won’t take no for an answer, that’s a whole other thing, uhearme?”

You’d waved dismissively from your position lying on the floor. You were a little drunk yourself at the time. “Its fine. Usually. And when its not its like….phoo, somehow it gets fine anyways!”

“jus sayin” he said, shifting until he was upside down on the couch, face inches from yours. Close enough that you could see the greasepaint starting to flake off. “need sumbody what can keep ya from gettin urself killed, lil buddy.”

“You volunteering?” You’d crooned. Ok, croon is a strong verb, it was more like slurred, but crooning was the intention is what matters.

“u askin me to?” He smirked, pressing a single claw to your forehead. Internally, you’re pretty sure that’s not how volunteering works, but noticing that isn’t at the top of your hierarchy of needs currently. 

“Mmmmaybe.” You rolled onto your back. You can feel your heart pounding just a bit right now, but somehow your voice is floating even and light. Like you don’t have a care in the world, and this is just one more joke in the scheme of your weird mobius double irony reacharound of a relationship. “Maybe I wanna go all gorlekh with you, what do ya think of that.”

“‘scuse?”

“Gorlekh. Gorgor and Lekh-…..lekh….” You made a dismissive noise, gesticulating your hands wildly as you moved to sit up. “The black one!”

“….ur talkin spades?”

“Yeah! The kissmissies….kissmich….” Wow faygo was no joke on your system. “The hate one. Like I don’t hate you, except I think I do a bit? But like in that weird alien way where I think it just makes me like you more and its confusing but I don’t wanna stop and you’re so damn cute and….and…”

Your voice trails off.

Because the man is honest to globes grinning. No smirk, no lazy half-smile, no lowered eyelids, nothing to give that careful impression that he’s only happy in a chill way. Just a huge, toothy smile that split his face.

Bro that shit was radiant.

“m-fer, u have no idea what ur in for….”

—–

You really hadn’t but you hadn’t had a moment of regret since then.

It was a constant game of one upmanship between you, an intense competition to see who could get who to visibly express their emotions first. Maybe that was unusual by kismesis standards: it didn’t seem much like Tagora and Galekh’s dynamic. But you were enjoying every second of it, and if Marvus had complaints he sure as hell wasn’t voicing them.

The only downside, all told, was the lack of time.You didn’t have hours to build on the tension. More often than not you had moments between shows. Actual antagonism had to be planned in to make sure the point got across without actually getting either of you hurt. After a full day of work he was usually too burnt out for more than light teasing and, to borrow his phrase, “sloppy makeouts”.

Those sloppy makeouts were becoming in themselves the point of your focus.

—-

After one such particular petting session, you glanced at the clock out of the corner of your eye. Fuck, it was late (er….early) and you had a long walk home with your car out of commision. You sighed, pulling yourself off of him with no small amount of protest. “I’ve gotta go.”

“u got some1 else u gotta do this to” he muttered, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. You were starting to realize a denied, overtired Marvus was a grumpy Marvus, which was as endearing as it was needy as hell.

“Maybe~.” You say, enjoying the glint he got in his eyes. You straighten out your clothes for a bit. “Tomorrow?”

“day off tomorrow bruh. clown church” He slipped an arm around you from behind, leaning down by your neck. “which means u can stay here-”

“Mm-mm” You slip free, nudging his face back. “Not tonight. Not here.”

“keep tellin ya juggz don’t spread shizz around” He said, lips pouting out a bit, which forces you to look away.

Denial is part of the game, after all. 

“‘Juggz’ aren’t the only people around here. And I’m not looking to get your fanbase up my ass. I’ve got more than enough people looking to cull me” 

“Hehe, tryna make me jealous ;o)”

You roll your eyes and head for the exit to his dressing room.The cool night air beckons outside, but you find your path suddenly obstructed by his arm. With a huff, you look up at him. “I’m heading ou-Mmm!”

The head turn had allowed him to get a grip on your chin and pull you into another deep kiss. Not a kiss, actually, if there was a word for it you’d describe it as some kind of facial wrestling match. He kissed around your mouth, your cheeks, your eyelids, in rapid succession, all the while insistently rubbing his nose and cheeks against your face as you spluttered. 

“Marvus-I—hey!!” 

With a final peck to the tip of your nose, he drew back grinning ear to ear, face paint now a smeary mess. “have a nice nite, b~” 

And you suddenly found yourself outside, hearing the door lock behind you. 

Oh that little- You snatched your phone out of your pocket and turned on your front facing camera. Sure enough, your face was now suddenly covered in white-grey paint, already caking on your cheeks and making you look like you’d fallen face first into glue.

“Marvus, I’m gonna kill you!” You said, pounding at the door. From the other side you swear you hear him laughing, which is only adding kindling to the fire at this point. 

Great. Perfect. You could either face the long walk home or use your sweatshirt to wipe it off and leave a visible stain on the black sleeves. Fuck it, you won’t be able to make it to Tyzias’s to do laundry for a bit, so you’re gonna have to walk of shame your way home. Fanfuckingtastic.

Practically the second you crossed the threshold your phone buzzed.

therealxoloto: send pics before u clean urself up aight ;o)

Oh he wanted a fucking-

You sent him a well backlit photo of your face, largely covered by an Alternian hand gesture Mallek had taught you.

therealxoloto: hell ye that’s that good shizz

Alien_among_you: you think you’re so funny

therealxoloto: clown church baby lmao

therealxoloto: i’m fxxkin hi lar i OUS

therealxoloto: ♠

Alien_among_you: ♠

You go to bed with cheeks red and chapped from being scrubbed, which was DEFINITELY the only reason they were red.

—-

After that, no kiss was safe, not truly. He’d found a button to press, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna leave it alone while it still worked. Sometimes he’d led you go days, wipes even, without an incident, only to jump you once you were lulled into a false sense of security. Practically everything you owned had been stained with the stuff with the point, and you’d gotten more mouthfuls of it than you’d care to mention. 

And naturally, this meant war.

It took you some time to figure out an appropriate revenge. Just stealing his paints felt over the line somehow. While you were still figuring out the ropes of clown religion, the fact that you had yet to see a clown without the stuff probably meant it was important. Marvus had only just started cleaning it off in front of you, and while he hadn’t made a big deal out of it, you’d gotten the impression that it was kind of a moment for him.

So, taking the stuff wasn’t an option. All that was left was to thwart it.

Can’t mess up a face already covered.

You waited till he’d left to run an early rehearsal, then quickly raided the vanity, tracking down brushes and setting powder and a couple of those little white brushes. You opened the tins and carefully positioned yourself in front of the mirror. Alright. Ok.

You hadn’t exactly done this before, but how hard could it be to figure out? 

Fifteen minutes later you realized that optimism was a bit misplaced. You weren’t exactly aiming for perfect, but you at least didn’t want it to look like a kid had painted you up. That would give him leverage to flip the teasing back on you, which was not the point of the exerices. You kept have to undo your work. The diamonds edges were too round, or too wide. The eyebrows were uneven. It took you far too long to figure out how to even tape down your natural brows. The makeup wipes were starting to pile up and paint was getting much lower. How the hell did he do this every day, it looked practically effortless-

Footsteps in the hallway. 

Panic rose in your throat as you swept the trash into a nearby can and haphazardly tried to make the vanity look like it had when he left. As they grew closer, you realized your eyebrows were still taped down, and ripping those off in a hurry was probably not the best idea. You practically dove into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“¿Yo, I leave my palmhusk in here?” 

You feel a sudden rush of relief. Not your clown. You recognize the voice: Payasa, one of the newer acts. You open the door a crack, seeing a tall juggalette with close cropped hair and a complex design resembling a moth across the center of your face. Damn, you weren’t even managing basic geometric patterns, how the hell did she paint that on every morning?  “Haven’t seen it, sorry.”

“¿damn, sorry ‘bout the intrusion?” The lanky clown starts to leave, before hesitating. “¿uhh…..you doin alright motherfucker?¿Need me to get the big man?” 

“No! No….” you say quickly. “I’m fine.”

“¿alright…?”

A thought occurs to you just before she leaves. Normally it’d be uncomfortable asking, but…you wanted to get this done.“….actually you know what.” You push open the bathroom door. “Could I get some help with something?”

She turns around quickly, gaze eager. Alien or no alien, she’s new here and eager to please. “¿watcha need?”

“I need you to help me put some face paint on.” You say, gesturing pointedly to your eyebrow situation.

You feel a cold spot of dread as the clown’s cheeks go bright purple. Oh globes, is this one of those troll things you’ve just put your foot in. Did you just spit in the face of the mirthful messiahs or something. 

Payasa rubs the back of her head, eyes darting towards the door. “¿er….does Marvus…know about this?”

“Its a surprise for him,” You say quickly. Hoping against hope, because otherwise its back to the drawing board or figure out how to do it yourself.

“¿I…?” The clown grimaces, nervously tugging on one of her many piercings. She seems to be at war with something inside herself. Finally, she swallows and looks back down at you. “¿sure….?”

A relieved look crosses your face. “Thank you so much, I promise I wouldn’t ask otherwise, but I’m pretty hopeless at this. 

“¿heh…no p?” She said, giving you a shy half-smile. “¿did you uh….have a design in mind?”

“Oh, that’s the easy part. I just need you to copy Marvus’ design.”

Another weighty silence. The purple faded, and its hard to tell under the makeup but you think she might have just gone pale, her eyes bulging out of her head.

“….is that….is that not ok?” You say weakly. 

“¿I-….it’s uh, fine!?” She managed to stammer out. The gazes towards the door returned, but after another look at your pleading face she seemed to gather her courage and slam it closed, making you jump. “¿its fine.?¿ Can do it quick, right?¿ Don’t have to be a big deal or nothin…?”

“Uh….sure?”

Payasa drags up a chair to the vanity bench and gestures for you to sit down. Despite the oddness of her behavior, you’re didn’t get this far looking gift clowns in the mouth. You sit down.

She makes quick work of it, though she still seems nervous. Her face keeps going purpler and purpler the longer she paints, and her ears flatten to the side of her skull as she worries her lip with her fangs.

“Are you sure this is ok?” You finally ask. “There’s not like, a rule against this or anything, right? I don’t want you to….I don’t know, commit heresy or something.”

“¿Nah, nah, not heresy, motherfucker.?” She says quickly, dabbing the poff in the setting powder before carefully dusting you. “¿Jus….little unusual is all.?¿But ain’t my place to judge.?”

“Why is it unusual?” True, Marvus seemed to prefer to do his own makeup, but you’d seen other juggalos do each others faces all the time, especially on the rare wipe end Marvus could drag you out to clown church. It had always seemed kind of peaceful. 

“¿I uh….think I’m gonna let Marvus tell ya about that.?” She mutters, putting on the finishing touches. “¿Ain’t sinful, though, promise.?”

“Well….that’s good, I guess.” You help her put the paints away. “Thanks again. His reaction should be worth it, at least.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “¿Yeah, imagine it will…?” She got to her feet, replacing the chair and giving you a lazy, two-fingered salute. “¿Gotta bounce and get ready for my set.?¿have a nice night, little motherfucker.?”

“You too.” Man, what does it say about your life right now that ‘little mothefucker’ read as affectionate. Before you can contemplate that, Payasa leaves the room, closing the door behind her. 

Marvus doesn’t come back for another twenty minutes or so. You lounge on the couch, scrolling through your messages and dicking around with a couple of games you’d downloaded for Diemen. You got so far down the rabbithole that by the time Marvus opened the door you’d almost forgotten what was on your face.

Almost.

“m-fin sound issues, swear 2 fxxkin glob…” He was muttering, twirling his staff absently in his fingers. “sorry i’m-”

He finally turns his eyes on you, and you’re treated to a rare sight.

Marvus Xoloto, speechless. Mouth still halfway open on its way to whatever he’d been planning to say. Eyes slowly tracing your face. You could practically see the question marks popping up over his head.

Its your turn to smirk, tucking your phone back into your pocket as you sit up, tossing your hair back a bit. “Lookin for your makeup rag? Bad news bitch, I’m already co-”

Marvus heads back outside, slamming the door. 

….Ok. Not the reaction you were expecting.

You waited for a second. Was this a bit?

….

Ok ok not a bit not a bit-

You scrambled to your feet, following him out the door.

Instinctively you move towards the green room, but he’s not there. Just a couple of the others, lounging around and hitting each other with squirts of a substance you deeply hope is whipped cream. One of them catches sight of you and their eyes go wide. ���….damN, didnT knoW yoU anD xolotO werE therE.”

“Have you seen-….what do you mean there.”

They chuckle, getting up and clapping you on the shoulder, giving you a big goofy grin. “he’S A luckY maN. prettY surE I saW hiM headiN foR thE costumeS closeT. leT A brotheR knoW iF yoU neeD A buckeT oR somethiN, aY”

Coming down to it you wish Marvus’ friends were a little less helpful sometimes. “I…think we’re good. Thanks” You brush past him on your way to the closet, hearing a couple distant “whoops” as you retreated.

The costumes closet is tucked away in a small corner. He’s not there, and for a moment you nearly considered looping back to his dressing room, before-…

Is that muffled screaming?!

Nervously you tap on the door. “Marvus…”

The sound lapses, and there’s a long pause.

“…..ye?”

“You uh, doin alright in there.”

“heh…def b. gucci.”

“You kinda rushed out.”

“…..”

“I’m coming in.”

“…..cool” he says, sounding resigned.

You open the door. Its stuffed to the brim with an array of truly unspeakable clothes. In the blinding sea of color Marvus is practically camouflaged, but you do eventually spot him. Slumping against the back wall, holding a crumpled shirt in his hand that he seems to have been screaming into. His expression is stony and tired in a way you aren’t used to seeing from him, and his eyes aren’t meeting yours.

One of the hardest things you’ve had to figure out about kismesis is when to break kayfabe. Following every barb or prank with an apology kind of defeats the purpose of a kismesis. They’re supposed to let you dangle a bit. But at the same time there are lines that can’t be crossed. You’re not supposed to genuinely hurt them, or force past boundaries they aren’t comfortable being violated.

The issue, especially in Marvus’ case, is figuring out the difference between the two.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back against the cool metal. “So…..I’m getting the impression that this,” You gesture to your face. “May have been a bit more symbolic than was my intention.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. You can see him struggling against himself, probably considering whether or not he should try to laugh it off. In the end though, he just nods.

“And I may have hurt you somehow?”

“u didnt-”He groaned, tilting his head to lean against the wall and closing his eyes tight. “who even did that 2 ya…”

“I….they’re not gonna get in trouble, right?”

He gave you a Look. 

Right. Not his style. “Payasa”

“n she didn’t think to explain y that might give a clown some m-fin pusher problems?”

“She was acting kinda weird about it, but I think she assumed I knew. Or…was maybe a little too scared”

He sighed, breath coming out in a huff. “fxxkin messiahs…” Slowly, he slid down the wall to sit on the ground.

You hesitated a second, before approaching him. Carefully, you slid to sit down next to him, resting your hands on his knees. “…Can you explain it to me? Please?”

His claws traced out patterns in the shirt he was still holding, as his eyes seemed a million miles away. You found your attention drawn to the slow rise and fall in his chest, the tension in his shoulders. He seemed nervous, a weird look on a man who came alive in front of a crowd of millions of rampaging teens. 

“juggz paint iz personal shizz. start workin on the lewk on yer naming day and it keeps changin while you’re changin. lotta symbolism and liturgical shizz go into it but the main thing iz its….u.” He turns over his hands, staring down at them. Faint purple lines run across the palm, a crisscross of old scars. “ur paint’s ur identity. sum mothafucker steals that, they’re stealin u. hell, even gettin some1 else to paint for ya is a big fxxkin deal. ur puttin ur whole identity in their hands and askin em to put it on ya. lotta clowns don’t even let their quadrants paint em”

Your palms go clammy. In your long proud history of fuck-ups, this one didn’t quite take the cake, but it had definitely cut out a larger slice than would be deemed socially appropriate. “I….holy shit, Marv, I’m sorry.”

“sorry?”

“I didn’t realize, this was like, taking something from you. I can take it off-”

You cut off your sentence when you realize his shoulders are shaking.

If he’s fucking crying you are gonna lose your entire mind-

And then a laugh tears out of his throat. Low and throaty and sweet and uncontrollable, the kind of laugh you heard from him maybe once in a blue moon. You’re taken aback (and more than a little flustered). You can only watch, cheeks growing progressively redder as he slowly subsides, hunching up a bit as he tries to catch his breath.

“I…what….”

“fxxkin saviors, b, sumtimes i forget, ufeelme?” He turned to look at you, grinning wide. “forget how alien u are to allathis. i ain’t mad”

“You aren’t?”

“nah lmao”

“….then what was all of this about?!” You say, shoving his shoulder. “I thought you said-”

He catches your wrist, pulling you to straddle his lap. “hey, hey, don make a m-fer bust out the shoosh paps.” He says, tone completely amused as he soothingly strokes your arms. “jus shuddup for a sec and lemme get raw, kk?”

You decidedly have more to say. But… looking at the soft expression on his face you’re having a hard time remembering what it is. In the end you nod for him to continue, settling back at bit against his legs.

He takes your hand, gently unfurling it and caressing circles in the palm with his thumb. “ur paint is u. and the people all in ya life, the 1s that count….they’re also u.” His thumb presses down solidly, shooting sparks up your arm. “told ya, the design grows like u do. pretty much expected once shizz gets serious with some1 ur gonna change things up a bit to reflect that. like chahut. the heavy paint round the sight specs a reference to that little indigo shit she goes craftin with. doesn’t always happen right away, but, when it does…” He releases your hand and moves up to cup your face. Eyes lidding a bit as he contemplates the design, traces the diamonds with his eyes. “pretty fxxkin big deal”

“I…..so, when I….” Your face goes red with the sudden implications, which makes him chuckle.

“yeah lol. kick in the bulge. not xxxactly what i was thinkin i’d see”

“So….that’s why you left?”

His lips press together a bit, and he gives a shrug at least twice as nonchalant as it should be. “…yeah. woulda been trippy even if ya were another purple but knowin u had no fxxkin clue what u did. like watchin a lil squeaker paint prophecies in stick figures. had to get out just to make sure i didn’t do smthn weird as hell”

“…..like what?”

He hums, gripping your chin and dragging you back down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Warm breath fans across your face as he smirks, exposing just a bit more of his fangs than was technically necessary. “show ya when we got more time ;o)”

You groaned. “This is illegal”

“fxxkin arrest me then bih” He patted your thigh, flicking his brows up.

You mutter something treasonous under your breath.

“n-y ways, u should clean urself up” He kissed your forehead. “camera crew$$$ gunna b up my a*s soon”

You sigh. “Right…” Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you push yourself to your feet. “Heaven forbid we appear to visibly be a couple”

“rite? gross lmao”

You shake your head and smile as you head for the door. “Right. Gross.”

“hey.”

Before you can turn around he’s wrapped his arms around you from behind, fitting you neatly to him. He leans down to bury his face in your shoulder, and despite the circumstances that lead you here, you know the only motivation is a desire for closeness. “let me do u up next time” He mumbles, voice rumbling against the skin of your neck. “not mine, but….somethin a yours. find out who u are, ya feel?”

…..You cover his hands your own, squeezing them tight and biting your lip to hide a grin. “….bold of you to assume there’ll be a next time, bozo”

“c’mon, we both kno u can’t resist the idea of my touchstumps all up in ur nugbone hehe ;o)”

“Sure that sentence would be very sexy to someone who isn’t an alien.” You turn in his grip to face him probably. “….love you.”

“aw, babe, that’s gay lol”

“I taught you what that means and you weaponize it against me? Treason.”

“i’m 1 naughty m-fer.” He kissed your forehead. “love ya 2”

“And…..hope you aren’t attached to this shirt.”

“…wha-”

Acting fast, you yank up his shirt and scrape it across your face, taking as much greasepaint off as you could before breaking free of his grip and bolting out the door. Loud, clowny curse words chase you as you tear through the halls, a smile threatening to break your face in half as you ran.

The road to vengeance is long sometimes, but it sure is sweet.

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (for you) Chapter 4

Chapter 4: You can be (my saving light)

In this chapter: In the past, Michael and Alex grow closer. In the present day, Alex meets the first of the passengers in his attempt to unmask the murderer. Alex and Michael have trouble being around each other.

A/n: This chapter is where we earn the M rating! And I took two of the most heartbreaking and soft moments from the show and managed to write it into this AU, I'm very happy about it!

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter and @ladymajavader over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

Last week's chapter was titled "Do not try me, devil devil" and it was taken from the song "Devil Devil" by MILCK and this was guessed correctly by @Lire_Casander! Thank you for reading and great job!

Can anyone guess this week's title and performing artist?

Also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3

June, 1924

Alex was lying underneath the tree on the schoolyard, the sun warming his face pleasantly. He was eating an apple, just as when he’d first met Michael.

A lot had changed since then.

Michael and Alex had become…friends, to a kind. In a way only abused children can become friends; as fellow victims, wary of all human contact, even each other’s. But they had found a comfortable routine between them, one that kept them both sane and kept Alex away from his father’s house for as much as possible.

After school they studied together in the library, to which his father could hardly protest. He always criticized Alex for his grades; Alex stepping up his studying by spending hours in the library could only please him. If Alex was ever truly able to please his father. On weekends Alex went to help out on the Foster’s Ranch, where Old Foster had enough work for the two of them. His father didn’t approve of Michael, but Alex never mentioned him and simply pretended they never even crossed paths.

But now the holidays approached, and Alex was nervous. He was afraid the Foster’s Ranch wouldn’t provide him with enough of an excuse to be away from home as much as possible. These last few months had been almost bearable at home. Only rarely did Jesse Manes have a reason to beat Alex anymore. Alex was afraid with the extra free time, the beatings would increase too.

“You can always come stay at the ranch indefinitely,” Michael suggested, plucking away on the old guitar he’d gotten from Old Foster. Michael had taken to bringing it to school and play for Alex while Alex stared at him admiringly.

Alex scoffed, “Yeah, my father would love that. His personal boxing ball living away from home at sixteen? He would have to pay for an actual boxing ball, that might just kill him.”

Michael shot him a look that clearly said, then perish, but said nothing. He continued to play instead. Alex hummed along, closing his eyes against the bright sunlight. Michael’s guitar playing always managed to relax Alex in a way no other music was able to. Maybe because it was music straight from the source (Michael). Or maybe it was the source itself (Michael).

Either way, his body relaxed slightly. “I’ll survive. I have for fifteen years in that hell hole. I will for another two.”

Michael’s hand slipped from the strings and a truly horrible off-key tone came from the guitar, making Alex wince. “Two?”

“Yeah. I’m going into the army when I’m seventeen. Just like my hero brothers and my highly decorated father.” He tried to keep the bitterness to a bare minimum.

Michael frowned, picking up where he left off in the song, but with less gusto. “The army? You even want to go?”

Alex opened his eyes and met Michael’s dark eyes. Michael looked genuinely upset, and Alex felt his heart twinge. “No. The army is everything I don’t want.” He sat up, the warmth of the sun seeping out of his body like he’d just been dunked in ice water. “But since when do I have a choice?” He started pulling on the grass, yanking it out by the handful and flinging it away from him. “Besides, when I’m in the army, at least I’ll be away from my father. And I’d do anything to be away from him.” Tears stung in his eyes and he wiped them away angrily.

Michael’s warm hand suddenly enveloped the one angrily destroying the grass, stilling his movements. Alex froze. Michael’s touch still sent a shock through Alex’s body. Every time the two of them touched, either for a hug or a high five or any other touch, Alex would feel a bolt of electricity spreading from the place he was touched to the top of his head and the tips of his toes.

It confused and frustrated him. He didn’t know what it meant, why his body reacted that way to a man. He’d read plenty of books to know men often reacted like this to women. Alex did not recognize that feeling, that much he knew at least.

“Here,” Michael said, pulling him from his frustrated brooding. He held out his guitar to Alex, looking at him expectantly. “You’ll need at least some skill to impress those military assholes, so you might as well learn a bit of guitar.”

Michael always did this. Whenever Alex began to pull back into his head, when fear began to take over, when things seemed at their absolute worst, Michael would pull him out of it with a quip and a distraction. After 7 months of friendship, Michael knew Alex better than his own family did. Michael felt safe in a way Alex had never felt with anyone, except maybe his mother.

He smiled and took the guitar, placing it on his knee. Michael chuckled, took it from him and turned it around. “You’re a righty, Alex. That’s the one you’re going to use to actually produce the music.” Michael positioned Alex’s hands like a professional. Alex felt awkward and his fingers kept slipping. Michael chuckled again. “Alright, here.” Before Alex knew what was happening, Michael was sitting very close, one arm slung casually across Alex’s shoulder as his hand helped Alex’s find a comfortable position. Alex felt heat rise to his cheek and he lost track of Michael’s words for a second, as all he could feel was Michael’s exceptional warmth pressed against his side and his rough fingers positioning Alex’s own carefully. “Okay, so this is G. Together with E minor, C and D, the easiest chord to learn. Press down on the strings hard, otherwise the tone will be flat, like now.” Michael ran his right hand across the strings and indeed, the tone fell flat. Alex pressed his fingers harder against the strings. It hurt, but it was a pleasant kind of pain; like he was earning the good notes. “Alright, now you try. Just go from the top to the bottom with your fingers.”

His wrist aching, his fingers screaming against the sting of the metal, Alex pressed down on the strings as hard as he could and brought his fingers from the top string to the bottom string. It did not sound half-bad. Michael smiled encouragingly, and Alex tried a few times, the chord sounding surer and clearer every time. Alex felt his face stretch into a smile as he tried different strumming patterns, taken from memories of Michael playing.

After that Michael taught him two more chords, and suddenly he was playing an actual tune. “There you go!” Michael said, smiling brightly when Alex managed three chords successively without pausing to think. “You might be a natural.”

Alex looked up at him to thank him, but the words stuck in his throat. Michael was still so very close. Their legs were pressed together and if Alex moved forward an inch, their heads would collide quite painfully. Michael’s eyes were large as they stared at each other, both apparently at a loss for words. Alex felt like he might drown in those eyes if he didn’t look away soon, but something stopped him from actually breaking eye contact. His stomach was doing several summersaults, and he felt his cheeks start to burn. They were sharing the same air now. “Thank you,” he managed to croak out finally.

Michael smiled, his eyes flicking to Alex’s mouth for a second before looking back into Alex’s eyes. Alex did not look away.

And then Michael’s lips were on his.

Time stopped.

The world faded away.

All Alex knew anymore was Michael’s lips pressed on his, and one of his rough hands sliding ever so gently up to rest in his neck, his fingers burning against Alex’s skin. Before Alex knew what he was doing, he was kissing Michael with just as much passion, both his hands coming up to grab Michael by the collar, pulling him closer, then letting his hands drift into Michael’s curls.

Doubts and confusion were gone. Alex was sure of only one thing, and that was that he wanted Michael to keep kissing him. That he would do almost anything for Michael to never stop caressing his face, for Alex’s fingers to never leave Michael’s hair.

They had to come up for air though, and the broke apart with a gasp. They were breathing heavily. Michael’s pupils were dilated to a point his eyes looked almost black and he looked absolutely astonished. Alex knew the feeling. “Have you…” Alex began, but had to take several breaths before he felt steady enough to continue. “Have you ever done that before?”

Michael laughed, a little breathless. “Yeah. Yeah, but never…”

“Never with a guy?” Michael nodded and they both burst into giggles. “Yeah, me too.”

“Is this okay?” Michael asked, pressing his forehead against Alex’s, his hands still in Alex’s neck, the same way Alex’s fingers were still firmly tangled in Michael’s hair.

Alex nodded feverishly. “More than okay. Yeah. Yup. I mean. Wow.” They both laughed again, and then they were kissing again. They sank into the soft grass and they spent the rest of the afternoon tangled up, exploring each other and expanding their relationship beyond what either of them had dared to dream.

The guitar lay forgotten next to them.

Present day, 20th October, 1935

Alex was sitting in the dining carriage. Beth Otto had volunteered to help Isobel clean herself up before talking to Alex, and Alex was waiting for the both of them to return. He flipped through his notebook, trying to piece together what little he knew.

Noah Bracken killed Rosa Ortecho fifteen years ago. He was accused but acquitted on accounts of no evidence. Fifteen years later, Rosa Ortecho’s murderer becomes the victim of a murder himself. Murdered on board the Orient Express, in a locked cabin, with only his wife in the cabin with him. The wife is the obvious suspect. However, the time of death roughly corresponds to the train’s stop in Vinkovci, and combined with an unexplained open window whilst the coldest autumn in years was sweeping through Europe, it was also very possible a murderer had slipped aboard the train in Vinkovci, murdered Noah Bracken and escaped through the window before the train departed again. But what is the meaning of the burned newspaper clipping? A message? A covering of tracks? Maybe a private detective on board spooked Noah Bracken? And how to explain the dozen or so vastly different wounds?

Alex had the feeling he was missing something very vital, but he did not despair yet. He had not talked to any of the passengers. Right now, they were his suspects.

“Hey,” a soft voice startled him out of his thoughts. Alex looked up to see Michael standing by his table. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking bashful, looking at him through his curls. He looked beautiful.

Alex shook his head slightly and shot him a brave smile. “Hey.”

“Mind if I sit?” Michael said, placing his hand on the back of the chair across from Alex. Alex nodded and Michael sat down. It was strange to be so close to Michael without any discomfort between them. They looked at each other for a while, Alex feeling his shoulders relax slowly. “You okay, Alex?” Hearing his name from Michael’s lips like that, in that soft, concerned voice made Alex nearly melt. He’d always been weak for Michael, and ten years of separation had evidently not changed that.

Alex sighed. ‘Yeah,” he said, then shook his head, “it’s a weird case.”

Michael nodded, never taking his eyes off Alex’s face. Alex was suddenly very aware of his hands lying on the table next to his notebook. Michael’s elbows were on the table as well and Alex had half a mind to take his hands.

But he’d lost that right when he walked away a decade ago. It was no use dwelling on it now.

“So how’ve you been, Alex?” Michael asked finally.

Alex shrugged. “You know. Went to war. Got my knee shot to hell. Nearly died. Then went into the private investigator branch. Turns out I’m pretty good at it.”

Michael chuckled. “You always were able to spot the little details.” The fondness in Michael’s voice completely threw Alex. After the cool demeanour Michael had held towards him since they ran into each other, this was the last thing Alex expected.

“How have you been?” Alex almost feared the answer. It opened the window for Michael to really go off on him.

Michael surprised him yet again, however. “It was really bad for a while, after high school. No job, no family…but then my siblings found me.”

“The ones who got adopted and had to leave you behind in that foster home?”

Michael nodded. Alex heart clenched with joy for Michael. He and his sister and brother had been found by the side of the road as small children. Michael had been an unruly child, and when his siblings got adopted, the adoptive parents refused to take Michael home as well. It had left Michael deeply scarred, leading to his early alcohol and nicotine abuse and overall delinquent behaviour. Though he’d usually managed to stay within the lines of the law. Usually. “Yeah. Turns out they had been trying to find me for a few years, but since I ran away from that last foster home, nobody knew where I was. But they found me, a year or two ago. We’ve been growing closer ever since then. It’s been really great reconnecting with them.”

“Michael, that’s amazing,” Alex said, and before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed Michael’s hand. Michael barely flinched, just turned his palm upwards and stroked Alex’s hand with his thumb. Alex returned the gesture in kind. Just like that, Alex was back under their tree, looking at Michael for the first time after their kiss. A full decade had not been enough to make him forget how he felt for Michael. In some ways, nothing had changed between them.

But in other ways, everything had changed.

Alex swallowed hard, closed his eyes and gathered his courage. “Michael, I’m sorry. But I have to ask. Where were you around 3am?”

Michael’s movement stilled and the atmosphere became absolutely frosty. “Seriously?” Michael asked, jerking his hand back. Alex’s hand remained behind on the table, feeling cold. He shivered slightly. “We’re having a moment here, trying to fucking reconnect, and you want to know if I have an alibi? You honestly suspect me?”

Alex clenched his eyes shut. God, he had the worst timing in the world. “I’m really sorry, Guerin, I really am, but I have to know. The carriage was locked on all sides. You were one of only 8 people who could’ve done this. I need to know. If nothing else, I need to rule you out. I can’t let personal feelings get in the way of this.”

Michael scoffed. “Alright, Alex,” he said, with nothing of the softness in his voice, “A few minutes before three we arrived in Vinkovci, and I went outside. I blew the whistle for the 1-minute sign at 5 past three. At three oh six, the train continued on its way and I went back to my cabin to warm up, since it was freezing outside. I did not emerge until around 4, when Mrs DeLuca rang the bell and asked me to refill her water jug. After that, I was not outside my cabin until Mrs Bracken started screaming. Satisfied?” He jumped to his feet, and Alex rose as well, feeling absolutely miserable.

“Michael, wait.” He grabbed Michael’s arm just as the other man wanted to pace off. “I spent last evening with the DeLuca’s and Dr Kyle, and the way Kyle and Maria interacted…I don’t know. It made me think about who I was, when all this started. Before I went to war.”

Michael pulled his arm from Alex grip and looked at him in near contempt. “Yeah, well, where I stand nothing’s changed.” His voice was like a dagger straight through the heart, but the words also sparked some anger in Alex.

“Yeah. Including the way you look at me.” Michael, who had been poised to retort with something undoubtedly hurtful, shut his mouth with a snap, his eyes widening. “And that’s a problem for me, Guerin.” Alex wasn’t exactly yelling, but his usually quiet voice had gotten a sharp edge to it. All the hurt and confusion he’d been feeling over the past 24 hours was bubbling to the surface and he was unable to hold any of it back. “Because every time you look at me, I’m 17 again. And I forget that the last ten years even happened!” Michael’s entire face was transforming, from decidedly pissed off to something akin to astounded. “And then you look away! And I remember all over again, and it almost kills me! Every time!” Alex was embarrassed to hear his voice break at the end, but the words were out now. Michael was frozen, staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers.

Just as Alex was about to turn around, giving up on him completely, Michael opened his mouth, and Alex was surprised to see a single tear escape from his eye. “I never look away,” Michael said, his voice surprisingly soft. “Not really.”

Alex opened his mouth to reply, although he wasn’t sure what, but then the carriage door slid open and Beth entered with an arm firmly wrapped around Isobel Bracken’s shoulders. “Oh, I’m sorry, did we interrupt something?” Beth said, looking startled as she saw the two men standing not two feet apart, both looking equally devastated.

Alex was the first to snap out of it. “No, of course not. We were just finished.”

Michael threw Alex a hard to read look and then exited the carriage, but not without brushing his hand against Alex’s. The familiar shock of electricity went through him for a second, and then Michael was gone. Before turning to face the two women, he wiped hastily at his eyes.

He had to snap out of it. A murder had been committed on board this train, and whilst the victim was most likely a vicious killer himself, Alex’s sense of justice would not allow him to let this go. He was going to solve this, preferably before they arrived in Paris in two days. In short, he was on a deadline.

“Mrs. Bracken,” he said kindly as he turned around and extended his arm for her to take. She did so, shakily, and allowed him to guide her to his table. “I’m so sorry for you loss, ma’am. I cannot imagine what you are going through.”

“Thank you, detective,” Mrs Bracken said, her voice shaking badly. “I think this qualifies as the worst day of my life, truly.” Every other word, she had to bring her handkerchief to her mouth to stop a sob from escaping. Alex noted that she had been cleaned up and looked quite put together for a woman who had just gone through the worst morning any spouse can go through.

“Miss Otto, would you mind giving us some privacy?” he requested of Beth, who had been hovering over Isobel. She nodded, squeezed Isobel’s shoulder in support and left the carriage.

“Mrs Bracken, I know this is a very trying time, but if we want this murder solved before we arrive in Paris, I need to know everything you can tell me about your husband. Had he any enemies?”

Isobel hiccupped. “I mean, he ran an oil company. He made quite a lot of money. One can’t make money in oil without making some enemies. But there was nothing that pointed to someone threatening him, if that’s what…” She trailed off, her face transforming almost comically to thoughtfulness. Alex cocked an eyebrow in question. “Well, he got some weird letter before we boarded the train. As we were checking out of our hotel, the clerk gave him an envelope. He opened it, read it, and became very upset. He first tore it in half, then stuffed it in his suitcase with a promise to burn it first change he got, which he eventually did in our cabin. When I asked, he wouldn’t tell me what was in it.”

Alex wrote it all down, noting that the burned piece of newspaper could very well have been in this envelope Mr Bracken had received. “How did he appear after that? At dinner, for example?”

“He was very distant, would barely talk to me. He was engrossed in his papers, even though he had promised not to work on our holiday. But it was almost as if he was possessed, he was almost feverish. I offered him some of my sleeping medicine, but he wouldn’t take it and, oh…” Suddenly she teared up again. “Oh god,” she wailed, “the last talk we ever had was an argument. I can’t believe this is happening!”

Alex nodded, allowing her to cry for a minute. He knew from experience grieving widows were especially hard to interrogate. Pushing it would only make them more upset, but he couldn’t be too lax. They usually had some vital piece of information. “Mrs. Bracken, please, just a little while longer. You said sleeping medicine. What kind do you take?”

“Barbital,” Mrs Bracken said, and Alex raised an eyebrow. “It’s not that unusual, Mr Manes. I’ve had night terrors, and they stopped when I started taking barbital.”

“Mrs Bracken,” Alex said, working to keep his voice even. “Your husband’s bedtime tea was laced with barbital. That’s why he never fought back.”

Isobel’s eyes widened, her eyes filling up with fresh tears and she let out a heartbroken wail. “You don’t think I gave him the barbital, do you? I would never drug my husband, Mr Manes!” She sniffed. “I will check if a bottle is missing for you, Mr Manes. Just to give you some peace of mind.”

Alex inclined his head in thanks, wrote down the new information, and continued. “In Istanbul, did you notice anyone following you?” Isobel shook her head. “And finally, did you at any point during the night, open your window?”

She looked at him like he was crazy. “Mr Manes, it is barely 41 degrees outside. Why would I do that?” Then she started sobbing again. “He was so cold…”

Alex wrote it down and closed his notebook. “Thank you, Mrs. Bracken. I will need to talk to you again later, but I will let you process this a bit further first.”

Isobel rose, still sobbing, and left the carriage, leaving Alex behind, lost in thought.

So, the murderer had sent the newspaper clipping to Mr and Mrs Bracken’s hotel. Was it a warning? Or a way to make Noah make a wrong move? Blackmail? Was the barbital from Mrs Bracken’s supply? And how did that window open?

Still so many unanswered questions, and more than a few coincidences Alex couldn’t explain away easily.

The carriage door slid open again and a person far less welcome entered. Compagnie director Jesse Manes crossed to his table in two strides and sat down without being invited. “So, Mrs. Bracken did it, yes?”

Alex frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. The door was locked, the only person who could’ve done it is the person in the room.”

“I’m not at all convinced. There are several things that don’t add up. The open window for one. The irregular stab wounds for another. Plus, why would Isobel Bracken want to take revenge for Rosa Ortecho?”

Jesse Manes scoffed. “Please don’t ask me to explain a woman’s logic. They’re not always the most reasonable of sorts.”

Alex rolled his eyes heavily and leant back. “Charming. A true miracle mom didn’t stick around, she really missed out on a quality husband.”

Jesse Manes gave him a contemptuous look. “Don’t blame me for your mother leaving, boy. She wasn’t right in the head.”

“Well, someone wasn’t, anyway. Pretty sure it wasn’t her, though.” Alex rose before Jesse Manes could do anything more than glower at him. “If you would be so kind as to hand me the keys to the luggage carriage. I want to check it for clues. Perhaps even the murder weapon.”

Scowling, Jesse Manes slammed his master keys on the table and rose. “It’s through the Belgrade carriage. Have fun looking through three cars worth of luggage.”

“Thanks!” Alex said, managing to sound cheerful as he grabbed the keys and left the dining carriage before his father could do anything else. As he walked, he noticed his fingers trembling slightly. He’d developed that unfortunate tell after his discharge. It only happened when his adrenaline levels spiked sufficiently enough to bring up his heartrate and fool his body into thinking he was in danger. Being around Jesse Manes apparently triggered it.

He unlocked and relocked the door between the Paris and Belgrade cars, stepped through, and made his way to the back where the luggage carriage was located.

It was one big mess. Mostly overlarge suitcases and meticulously wrapped parcels occupied the space and it wasn’t very well organized. Just looking at this gave Alex a headache. Pushing through it, he began to wade through the luggage.

About ten minutes in, he froze solid. His hand had landed on a guitar case. Slowly, he pulled it from the mess and held it up, vaguely hearing his miserable attempts at producing sound from Michael’s old guitar drift towards him from the past. He almost opened it to see the guitar and hold one in his hands again, when a voice snapped him out of his memories. “Nostalgia is a fickle mistress, yes?”

Alex almost dropped the guitar. Instead, he put it back down carefully and turned around. Michael was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame and smirking slightly. Alex took a step towards him. “You know, after I was discharged, I thought for sure I would never see you again.”

Michael pushed off from the doorframe and took a step forward as well, his hands buried in his pockets again, looking at his feet in a very transparent way to hide his nerves. “Is that what you want?” Michael could barely look him in the eye as he stopped to a halt a few feet away.

Alex blinked a few times, trying to find a suitable answer. What did he want? “We’re not kids anymore. What I want doesn’t matter,” he echoed the words his drill sergeant had yelled at him more often than he cared to remember. And yet he had moved closer to Michael. They were now barely a foot apart.

Michael’s eyes snapped up to Alex’s fully now. Something unspoken went between them. Alex’s eyes flicked to Michael’s lips, and then Michael was on him.

Once again, it was like the last ten years hadn’t ever happened. Michael felt so familiar against him, the warmth of his hand in his neck, how his lips moved against his. Alex’s body reacted instinctively. His hands pulled Michael closer to him by his belt, then tried to find somewhere to hold, but he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch. He wanted to touch everywhere. When he landed on his waist, he wanted to touch his face. When his hand was on Michael’s face, he wanted to run his hands through those curls.

Michael walked him backwards, and Alex’s back hit the wooden wall with a thump. Both moaned softly as Michael pressed himself against Alex as close as possible and Alex could already feel Michael’s arousal against his leg. Michael’s hands were roaming all over his body and in the end landed on Alex’s hips. His fingers dug into his flesh, drawing another gasp from Alex’s lips.

Alex heart felt full to bursting. He hadn’t been kissed like this in a decade. Sure, he’d had some kisses here and there, but where does one find a fellow queer man in America in one of the most conservative times of the country? But Michael was the only one who could make his entire being feel on fire with barely a few touches. Michael broke the kiss after what seemed like an eternity, pressing his forehead against Alex’s. Their breathing was heavy, in complete sync as they held onto each other.

Every point of Alex’s body that touched Michael’s was tingling heavily, and his lips felt swollen from Michael’s enthusiastic kisses. “That was…” Michael said, trying to recover his breath.

“A one-time thing,” Alex forced himself to say. The longer he and Michael weren’t kissing, the more he returned to his senses. Michael was a suspect in a murder investigation, Alex wasn’t supposed to be making out with him.

Michael barely looked concerned. “Mm-mm. That’s what you said after that first time.” His hand slid down Alex’s body, landing on his crotch. Alex inhaled sharply, closing his eyes at the intense sensations. “Mmm. I don’t think he quite agrees with you, Alex.”

“God, Guerin,” Alex growled, his hands grabbing Michael’s face and pulling him close again. The kiss was hotter now, fuelled by lust more than pain. Quick as a cat, he spun Michael around, so his back was to the wall now. Alex grabbed his hands and pinned them above their hands. Michael chuckled breathlessly. Even after all this time, Alex still knew exactly what Michael liked.

Alex rolled his hips against Michael’s and the intense friction made them both groan. “Alex,” Michael growled, sounding absolutely wrecked. Alex had to call upon the very last shred of his willpower to pull away enough to look into Michael’s eyes. “This is a very dumb idea,” Michael continued, even as his lips chased Alex’s.

“It is,” breathed Alex, as he nipped Michael’s lips, “You’re a suspect in a murder that I’m investigating.”

“This could be seen as a conflicting interest.” Michael captured Alex’s lower lip between his teeth and bit down lightly.

“It really could,” Alex agreed in a muffled voice.

Still, it took the two of them another ten minutes to recover enough of their self-control to pull apart. At this point, they were both panting heavily, and Alex was painfully hard. He couldn’t help but notice Michael was in the same predicament. “Let’s pretend this never happened, for now, shall we?” he said between heavy breaths.

Michael nodded, not looking at Alex as he tried to regain his breath. “Yeah. We don’t want your father finding us in a compromising position again, huh.”

“Please, don’t joke about that, Michael,” Alex said in a pained voice.

“Sorry.” For a few minutes they were silent, both trying to recover their strength enough to leave. “Okay, I think I’m good now. See you around, Private.” With an absolutely wicked grin, he tapped his conductor’s hat and left the luggage carriage, leaving Alex behind who was in no way shape or form ‘good’.

He would probably not be able to leave this carriage for a while yet. Sitting himself down on the nearest trunk, Alex began rifling through the other luggage at random, hoping to find any clue.

Focus was hard to find, however, and it took him a full two hours more to search the rest of the carriage. He came away with no new clues.

As he re-entered the Paris carriage, he saw Michael talking to the tall white man he’d overheard someone call ‘Max’. Michael spotted him as well, and over the tall man’s shoulder, he threw Alex an absolutely sinful look. Alex groaned inwardly.

It was going to be a very long day.

[mz-hide]

Trick Of Might - Chapter 3

Aka: a Dragon Ball Z slash fic.

Chapter 3

The Prince takes a walk down memory lane and Turles has to put some pants on.

Summary: An ancient enemy makes a sudden comeback into Goku’s life. Long-suppressed memories surface again and it’s no longer possible for the young saiyan to ignore them. Warnings: Dubious Consent, (because of drug use) Ships & Pairings: Bulma/Vegeta, Goku/Vegeta, Goku/Turles, Goku/Turles/Vegeta, Turles/Vegeta, Raditz/Turles, Nappa/Turles, Nappa/Raditz/Turles Contains: Threesome - M/M/M, Group Sex, Polyamory, Aphrodisiacs, Secret Crush, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Love Triangles, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Biting, Scratching, Boners All Around, Feral Behavior, (just a tiny bit), Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content

You can find the rest on my AO3 page (username: originalmonkeyhydes)

The closer he got, the sharper the saccharine smell of flowers became. The young saiyan grimaced, uselessly trying not to be affected by the increasingly suffocating atmosphere. He landed on a sturdy root, keeping a safe distance between himself and the source of that scent, raising an arm to his face to shield his nose. Now he truly started to regret his decision of sticking around to investigate. Not that the scent was unpleasant. In fact, it wasn’t. The more he focused on how little unpleasant it was, the more he felt dizzy. It was definitely counterproductive. He had to focus on making sure his suspicions were groundless and he had to be done with it quickly. He moved from a root to the other, pricking up his ears. It was hard not to be vigilant when all around him he heard the creaking of growing wood and the rustle of hot vapor moving the fragrant foliage. That place was starting to enervate him, yet he did not cave in. His resolution and his power of will were steadfast. He had the firm intention of seeing the end of that story. Finally, after a while, his efforts were rewarded, though not in the way he would have hoped. After flying all around the trunk without finding anything, he had been on the point of giving up when a glimmer on the ground caught his attention. He turned his head towards it and saw it. “Oh no…”, he murmured, closing in quickly to verify that his eyes had not betrayed him. In front of him, half-hidden between roots and fallen leaves, was a large, metallic orb. It looked darkened by smoke and quite damaged but still unmistakable. It was a ship. “It can’t be…” “Oh, but it is.” The young warrior turned around, jumping backwards, instinctively dodging the attack that crashed on the ground exactly where he’d stood less than a second before. He raised his eyes. Upwards, between the branches, he caught sight of a dark shadow, nonchalantly leaning against the tree trunk and eying him with apparent indifference. Goku didn’t need to look twice to know who he was dealing with. “Turles!”, he exclaimed, incredulous. The renegade’s face was hidden by the shadows, but the warrior still caught the glimmer of his fangs, bared into a smug grin. “In the flesh.” Turles’ face was made visible by the light of a second attack aimed at him. This time Goku didn’t bother dodging. He merely deviated it with an arm, sending it to crash away. He ignored the smashing sound of broken wood, keeping his eyes fixed on the other warrior, without moving a muscle. The renegade appeared bored, following his failed attack with his eyes. “You don’t seem glad to see me, Kakarot. Is this the way to greet an old friend?” “My name is Goku”, he rebuked, “And you are not my friend.” “Oh, such hostility… unjustified hostility, I might add.” “In what way would it be unjustified?” “If my memory doesn’t fail me, you weren’t the one to survive death by a mere thread the last time, when the Tree of Might exploded. I was. And I would have happily down without that experience.” “Speaking of which… I was sure you had died that time. How did you make it out alive?” “Please! I’m a saiyan. It would have been ridiculous for me to die for so little, don’t you think?” With those words, he stepped forward, jumping down from the branch, shooting a rapid sequence of attacks at him. The young warrior easily avoided them once more, even the blow that came from behind him, despite his vision being compromised by the dust and debris the aggression had caused to pollute the air. The kick aimed at his head was intercepted by his wrist, the knee surging towards his stomach by the palm of his other hand. The dark saiyan urged him further, giving him no time to think and forcing him to jump backwards. Goku saw an opening and retaliated. He felt his knuckles hit the mark, hard. But his opponent didn’t seem to relent. With ever blow he took, he had twice more in store. “I have to admit, you’re quite tough. I’m not surprised I couldn’t manage to kill you the last time”, said the youth, impressed by the tenacity the renegade was showing. It was then that his opponent managed to land a kick. Goku flew backwards, landing at a distance, escaping the devastating trajectory of the blows that followed. “And I must give you credit for trying, Kakarot. You almost managed. Though, I can’t say I escaped uninjured…” When Goku raised his eyes. The dust had dissipated and he could finally see the other clearly. He couldn’t help but flinch at the sight. The face he’d seen in his dream just a few hours before was staring back at him, but It was different from what he recalled. The flicker of malice in his obsidian eyes had stayed the same, just as the cocky curve of the smirk that bent those lush, brown lips with the same confidence he remembered. Turles grinned, as if unaware of the long, pale scar that crossed his cheekbone and split the corner his lip. Another one ran along the side of his neck and downwards, disappearing below his clothes. Yet, not even that disfigurement had been able to spoil the might and pride that shined through his features. In spite of himself, Goku had to admit to himself that the scar did nothing but enhance his charm. “At a loss for words, Kakarot?”, Turles teased, hinting at his scarring. “Admiring your handiwork? Or maybe you’re thinking of a good way to apologize to me for it.” The dark saiyan had noticed the intensity of his gaze, Goku could see it in his face. The thought that the renegade could figure out what had crossed his mind irritated him. “Why should I? You should be the one to apologize for having threatened my planet and my son.” “You just can’t let that old story go, can you?” “I’ve already told you, the Earth is my home and I won’t let anyone who’s threatened my home and my family have a lucky escape.” “Is it war that you want, then?” “You and I might not share the same values but I’m still a saiyan too, remember?”, Goku replied, his body shifting into a defense stance. “If it’s a challenge you offer me, I’m certainly not to the type to back down, Turles.” A dangerous smile curved the youth’s lips, a perfect replica of the one on his opponent’s face. “Now you speak my language…” Turles crouched slowly, lowering his centre of gravity, ready to attack at any second. His eyes were steadily fixed on Goku’s, intense and magnetic. “Come on now, let me see what you’re made of!” With a scream, the two of them hurled themselves at one another, eyes flashing and fangs bared in an expression of pure, primordial joy.

  “Isn’t it too late for the runt to be out of bed?”

Thus Vegeta introduced himself, interrupting the agitated chattering between his lover and Kakarot’s son, who’d just landed in their yard. “I would’ve thought his nanny to be more diligent.”

Piccolo shot him a dirty look. Saying that the namekian had little affection for the prince was a gross simplification. Though, at least, the sentiment was reciprocated.

“Oh wow, listen to him now, being all paternal all of a sudden!”, his lover taunted him harshly, before turning her attention to the kid once more. “Just ignore him Gohan. He’s just acting cranky ‘cause he has to lend his plaything. If he behaves nicely now, he can have a new one. Now let’s go, come give me a hand, I have to set the coordinates in the computer. We’ll find your father.”

The youth shoot the older saiyan a hesitant look before following the scientist inside the ship.

“What did the idiot get himself into this time?”, Vegeta asked before the namekian could join the others. There was no need to specify which idiot. “I didn’t think you cared so much about what Goku does. What happened, are you truly jealous of your plaything that much?” “Don’t push it. The woman can afford a little sass with me but I assure you, you can’t earn my patience in the same way she does, so watch your tongue.” Vegeta usually was reserved about his private life, but the expression of slight disgust on the other’s face was worth an exception. “Now talk. What happened to Kakarot?” The namekian glared at him in silence for a moment before replying. “We don’t know yet. Kami suspects he might have gone to investigate an unusual occurrence on a small planet nearby. An odd energy appeared out of the blue a couple days ago. Initially, Goku didn’t seem too interested in finding out more about it. He seemed sure it was nothing worth worrying about. But now he’s gone without saying a word to anyone. Gohan saw him go out in the middle of the night. We’re all of the idea he might indeed have gone on his own to investigate.” “That’s it? That idiot can use instant-transmission, right? You’re worrying over nothing. As much as it pains me to say this, Kakarot is saiyan enough to fend for himself. Whatever might lurk on that planet has no chance.” “It’s been hours since he left. I’d say there is something lurking up there. And if there’s something keeping Goku when the Cell Games are drawing nearer, it’s a problem for everyone.” The Prince flinched. The fact that everyone on Earth seemed to assume Goku alone would have been able to defeat Cell irritated him. What was worse was that he’d started to believe that too and hated himself for it. “Cut to the chase, namekian. What could be worse than Cell right now? Is the thought of him finding something up there entertaining enough for him so bothersome to you?” “I could ask you the same question. Are you afraid Goku might find someone else to give a lesson to? Are you jealous?” “Keep this attitude up and the lesson Kakarot gave you will pale in comparison to what I have I store for you, namekian.” The green warrior shot him another dirty look, but the prince wasn’t the type to feel intimidated by so little. “Now explain yourself. You said 'someone else.'” “To tell the truth, my worry is that he might find something. Something we’ve already seen some time ago. It’s a tree able to drain a planet of its energy, killing every life form in its wake. The last time, Goku had to use the Genki dama to get rid of it. This time, however, we fear the same kind of tree might have taken roots on a neighboring planet, a very small and uninhabited one. If things turned for the worse, I don’t think he’ll be able to save the situation in the same way. There’s no lifeforms to borrow energy from for him up there. That’s why we think he might need help.” “It’s better if you two don’t go up there.” “Excuse me?” “You heard me. I don’t think those unnecessarily large ears are there just for show. You and the boy would do better to stay here. I’m going to retrieve your precious Kakarot alone.” With those words, he moved to turn away from the other, but the namekian immediately moved to block his way. “Why do you care so much to go up there personally? You’re always acting hard to get when it comes to help someone, why bothering dirtying your hands now?” “Fool”, Vegeta hissed, “You have no idea what’s waiting for you up there.” “I think we do”, Piccolo rebuked, grimly. “We know about the Tree of Might and we know the effect those fruits have on inconsiderate opportunists such as yourself. You are the fool here, if you think we’d let you go up there and pluck the fruits for yourself.” “Tell me, was it a saiyan that gave you a taste of their power the last time?”, the prince inquired, sharply. Piccolo gritted his teeth. “What happened to Turles? Is he still alive?” “If Goku learned anything from the mistake that was sparing you, then no”, the namekian growled, “If by any chance he is, though, I plan to take care of him personally.” “Ah! You?”, Vegeta mocked him, “If you truly knew the power of those fruits, you wouldn’t indulge yourself in such ridiculous boasting.” “I know enough. I know that something like that must never fall in the hands of the likes of you.” “Spare me! I’ve grown strong beyond the need for cheap trickery. Besides, I’m an elite, the prince of all saiyans. I would never humiliate myself by resorting to such vulgar means of obtaining a fleeting boost of power. I know the effect of those fruits very well, namekian. If it can put our fears to rest, know that you won’t find fruits on this tree in particular. I know that for sure.” That seemed to startle the warrior. Vegeta moved him out of his way, seemingly unbothered. “Trust me, you and the runt have no idea what you’re dealing with”, he warned him. “If you care about his wellbeing, it’s better if you don’t let him go look for his father.” Piccolo was stunned. He’d never trusted the saiyan but he knew by his tone that he wasn’t lying, nor threatening. As much as it irritated him, it was clear that the warrior knew more than him in this regard. He feared what might have been the part he himself was unaware of. “Mr. Piccolo, it’s done! Bulma set the course, we can go!”, Gohan called out to him, jumping out of the vehicle, shooting a confused look at Vegeta, when he walked past him. “Not so fast, Gohan!”, huffed Bulma, exiting behind him and crouching at the feet of the ship, rummaging about. “I have to detach the ballast first. You know, since the little prince here has the bad habit of blasting off into space without telling anyone, we had to anchor it to the ground. This way he doesn’t make it fall on the side when he trains a bit too hard.” “Please, be quick, we have to go help my dad!” The youth’s eyes shone with a light that was familiar to all of them. Piccolo and Vegeta exchanged a long, meaningful look. They both knew what had to be done. The namekian gritted his teeth, lowering his eyes. He wasn’t the type to be pleased with himself about being the one doing the hard, right thing. It sickened him almost as much as it did heeding Vegeta’s words. He couldn’t believe the arrogant prince had been able to convince him. “Forgive me, Gohan”, he murmured under his breath, hitting the kid at the back of his head with a sharp gesture. Gohan didn’t have the time to register the motion and fell limp into the arms of his teacher. “What has gotten into you?!”, Bulma shrieked, turning around and being the young half-saiyan unconscious, “I just finished with the ship, it’s good to go!” “Perfect”, remarked Vegeta, heading for the door fo the vehicle. “Where do you think you’re going, mister?”, the scientist called out to him, shaking with indignation, “Are you planning on abandoning your child a second time?” “Calm yourself, woman, I’ll be back soon.” “Goku better be with you when you do, if you care for your life”, the namekian warned him, a piercing look in his eyes. “His safety might not interest you, but if something happens to him, no one will be able to safeguard yours. Maybe I’m not a threat to you anymore, but I think we both know what Gohan will be capable of if something happens to his father.” “Tsk. Your threats don’t impress me, namekian”, Vegeta replied, shooting him one last glance once he reached the end of the stairs to the ship door. “Fear not, I’ll get your precious Kakarot back safe and sound. The day you can claim his kid as your own has not come yet.” The fiery indignation in Piccolo’s eyes was the last thing he saw before the door closed.

  In the meantime, the Earth-raised saiyan had put his opponent to the spot. The fight had gotten closer in range. The heat of battle had pushed the renegade to retreat. Despite his ferocity was just as fiery as his opponent’s - if not more -, nothing he had to give seemed to be enough to overpower him. Turles was starting to get frustrated. He didn’t remember his opponent to be so strong. Kakarot had beaten him the last time, but the outcome of their fight had been a stroke of luck more than anything else. Before the warrior had found the strength to conjure up the devastating blow that had almost costed Trurles his life, the pirate had almost beaten him within an inch of his life. The dark saiyan could have sworn he’d really had the upper hand the last time, the youth hadn’t been holding back. When and how did he get this much stronger? The beating I’ve given him couldn’t have been worse then the damage he did to me… And I've grown monstruosly stronger than I was that time! What has happened to him since the last time we fought? He feels like an entire different person… Suddenly, a kick disrupted his thoughts, sending him flying and slamming him against the tree trunk. The impact took his breath away. “I have to hand it to you, Kakarot, you’re really putting up quite a fight this time…”, he chuckled, once he regained his voice. “You’re much stronger than you were the last time we fought, I can see that now. It’s a pity. I would have rather offered you a rematch worthy of its name as a show of gratitude for having held back on the death blow the last time.” “It’s weird to hear you speak of gratitude. I had the distinct impression you’d tried to kill me first before I attempted to do the same.” “I can’t deny that. Just as I can’t denied giving you a choice.” The shift in Turles’ gaze made him tense. He knew exactly what he was referring to. “Am I wrong?” “How do you think I could have accepted such a proposition, after you tried to harm my friends and my planet? I couldn’t have trusted someone like you to tell the truth! You left me no choice but to take you down.” “O, Kakarot…”, Turles shook his head, snickering, “You would have made a great saiyan if you hadn’t grown up among those Earthlings.” “What do you mean?”, the younger warrior asked him, quirking an eyebrow. Goku wasn’t sure he appreciated the way the darker saiyan’s eyes were looking him over. “I never thought I would have had to explain something so obvious so someone of my own kind. But I guess you really don’t know any better, don’t you Kakarot?”, he chuckled, shooting his opponent a look that was halfway between condescension and a kind of tenderness Goku wouldn’t have expected someone like Turles To be capable of. “What could so obvious that you’d feel the need to explain it to me? Are you trying to tell me that you trying to kill me is somehow coherent with your wish to show me gratitude?” “It’s not just about gratitude. I wan’t to show you my appreciation, Kakarot. You’re a saiyan, you should get it too. We’re a race of warriors. Loathing weakness is part of our nature as much as admiring strength and yearning for a path to glory. There is no greater form of respect than a saiyan acknowledging the power of one of his fellows, even when defeating him is a matter of life and death. No warrior could regret finding his death to the hands of an opponent to whom he’d be willing to give his life for. Class, sex, origin, rank, don’t matter; it is in our nature to try to partake in greatness, no matter how, as winners or as losers.  Though, a saiyan’s greatest dream is to find someone strong enough to perfectly match his own strength. The greatest honor is to be that perfect someone to a warrior, in comparison to whom any other would pale.” The renegade laid his eyes on his opponent’s face, observing his expression slowly change as comprehension dawned on him.

“Even warriors like us, born to rule and conquer, would lend their hand towards a rival worthy of its name. Not in surrender, not in fear or cowardice, but to honor a fighter one can only be lucky enough to meet once in a lifetime. Is it so incomprehensible that I have lent you my hand the first time we met, Kakarot? If only you’d been raised among your own people, then you’d know what it means to find that someone.” Goku was speechless, his eyes wide open with disbelief, as a deep awareness started emerging from obscure recesses of his conscience. What Turles was telling him was more than believable, more than comprehensible; it was something that ignited sparks of recognition into the very core of his being, a sense of intimate understanding he could hardly fathom. Finally he realized why the other’s words were giving him that weird sensation of familiarity; it was because he already knew exactly what the renegade was talking about. He had already found that someone, because that someone had found his way to him a long time ago. Vegeta… “Having said this, my only regret is having underestimated you, Kakarot. You’re much stronger than I thought you’d be. I wanted our rematch to be fair game… but I would’ve been happy if the imbalance had been in my favor. I’d love to get you back for the scar you gave me.” “That’s what you get for threatening my home.”

“Yeah, that was a mistake I would’ve rather done without. And I have avoided repeating it, this time. Look where we are, so far out in space your Sun’s light can barely reach us. Look at this tree. It didn’t produce any fruit and it never will. I’m not a threat to your precious planet. Yet, you’re still so inflexible, even after everything I told you…” Turles chucked under his breath. He looked bitter, though it was hard to tell if that was really the case. A sinister grin still bend his lips and made the younger warrior quite uncomfortable. “I opened my heart to you, Kakarot, is that still not enough for you?” “Enough for what?” “Enough for you to give a second chance”, the other replied without a hesitation, fixing his obsidian eyes on the warrior’s once more. “I understand now that it won’t be easy for me to fight you in these conditions. If I could find a suitable planet to plant the Tree of Might and eat its fruit, than maybe I could hope to give you a better fight. And maybe I could change your mind about my old proposition and make you join me. Think about it, Kakarot. Think of the places we could conquer, of the opponents we’d meet on our path, think of the battle and glory that awaits. If we joined forces, no one couldstand in our way. We could rule the galaxy, just the two of us.”

“I know the price of that tree of yours and I don’t intend to pay it with the lives of entire planets and their innocent inhabitants. If you think you can convince me to become an accomplice to your evil plans then you don’t know me at all, Turles.”

“I knew you’d say that.” The younger saiyan saw a dark flicker in the renegade’s eyes and a victorious smile growing on his lips, but he understood what it all meant too late. Turles joined his hands and struck the tree trunk with all his might. The branches shook violently above the warrior’s head. Goku didn’t move in time to avoid the crimson gush of dense liquid that rained on him from hundred of red flowers swaying above his head. He slipped and fell to the ground. He tried to get back up to his feet but he found it impossible to do so, with the pool of slick, slippery liquid spreading around him. The scent was so intense he felt he couldn’t breathe. He panted, falling prey to a sudden vertigo. “Forgive me, Kakarot. I would not be able to live with myself without trying to convince you in any way I can. Even if it means playing dirty.” He lifted his eyes and saw the darker saiyan walking towards him. The renegade crouched at his side, seemingly unaffected by the saccharine miasma wafting off the thick sap. “Struggling is futile, you’re already absorbing it through your skin. For now, just focus on breathing. It won’t kill you, I can assure you.” Goku glared at him. Turles ignored it and brought a hand to the warrior’s face. He brushed the sap away from Goku’s eyelids with his thumb before bringing the digit to is mouth and sucking it off, looking pleased. “Quite pungent, isn’t it? It took me a while to get used to It too. I image it might be a little too much for you just now. Don’t worry. You’ll start feeling much better before long.” With those words, the renegade bent down and kissed him, pressing their lips together. Goku was dumbfounded. As much as he wished to bite Trulls’ lips off he found himself disclosing his instead, allowing his tongue to reach his own, tasting the sickly sweetness of that sap. That was his end.  “I’ll see to that personally…” Those were the last words he heard before slipping into unconsciousness.