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wrestlersownmyheart · 2 years

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Tricked and Treated (Drew McIntyre X Reader)

Pairing: Drew McIntyre X Reader Summary: When Drew locks himself in a public restroom—with the one woman he seemingly hates—at a Halloween party, sparks fly. Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination. Story Content & Trigger Warnings: Some sensuality, but mostly fluff.

Note: This is just a really short one-shot that I whipped up in a day. Not edited, or anything, so look over any errors, typos, or lack of quality for that matter, lol. Hope it is enjoyed nonetheless.

Tricked and Treated

"You're being completely unreasonable!"

Your growled words echoed within the arena's long corridor as the hulking Scotsman, known as Drew McIntyre, carried you down the hallway toward the trainer's office. You'd just got done with your mixed tag match for that evening and it didn't go well.

At all.

"Next time, princess," Drew snarled right back at you, "I don't care if she rips your arm off and beats you over the head with it... You are not to tap out. You're t' get free and tag me in. Am I clear?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake! Like you've never tapped out before in your entire career," you spat at him. "And put me down! I can walk on my own—it wasn't my leg that was hurt." You began to struggle within his hold, till a twinge of pain in your shoulder had your body calming its movements.

"Be still. Ye'll injure it worse," his voice rumbled near your ear. "Besides we're here." He passed through a doorway and then you were—to your utter surprise—gently deposited onto an exam table.

You glowered at Drew before a brunette woman—one of the trainers for that evening—addressed you.

"So, what seems to be the problem," she asked, stepping up to you.

"It's my-"

"It's her shoulder." Drew cut you off despite the scathing glare you sent his way. "It took quite a beating."

"Would you shut UP," you hissed. "I can speak for myself!" You ignored the fire in Drew's eyes and turned back to the trainer. "I was in a submission hold for quite a while out there. My shoulder and arm were stretched to the limit."

After a lot of prodding and tugging and more stretching, the trainer stepped away and gave you an encouraging smile. "Nothing serious. Just looks like it was hyperextended a little. We'll ice it down, and then you should rest it for a couple days and you should be good as new." She began putting an ice pack together and you winced initially as the cold ice touched your tender shoulder. Seconds later though, relief came and you sighed softly.

"Next time, tap out sooner."

Your gaze flew up to Drew's. You were more than a little surprised to see some regret in his blue eyes. "You just said-"

"Forget what I said earlier, princess. Tap out sooner. When you're in a hold like that, there ain't no gettin' free. Save yourself an injury and tap out."

With that, the giant Scotsman turned and walked away, leaving you alone with the trainer.

And leaving you very confused.

Drew hated you. (For some reason.) He always had. Why did he look so repentant? He sounded almost as if he blamed himself.

Something was wrong. That was not like him.

You sat impatiently, and in a state of bewilderment as the trainer wrapped some cling wrap around you, pinning the ice pack to your shoulder.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

"Wow, and you said he sounded concerned?"

You nodded even though Sasha Banks couldn't see you over the phone. "Yeah, he said to save myself an injury and tap out, then he walked off."

"That is weird. He's never worried about you."

"Thanks, Sasha."

"No, you know what I mean. He just... always seems antagonized by your presence."

"That makes me feel so much better," you dryly replied, switching the cellphone to your other ear.

"Ugh, okay, change of subject... You're still on for the party tomorrow night, right? I mean your shoulder will be okay to dance and stuff?"

"Well, yeah," you said in a "Duh" kind of way. "Halloween is my favorite holiday, so of course I'm going to make it. The trainer said there was nothing seriously wrong with my shoulder, anyway."

"Okay. So what is your costume?"

"Would you believe it if I said it was a surprise?"

"No. Why?"

"Because it is. Even to me. I have no idea what to go as."

"Okay, crazy idea," Sasha said. "I have a feeling the reason Drew is mean to you is because he has the hots for you. So, how about you go as a princess? With a bit of tweaking. I mean... Drew always calls you "princess". You could see what his reaction would be. And then-"

"Are you kidding me? I don't need to give him another reason to growl or snarl at me."

"Oh, just do it, Y/N. You don't have any other costume ideas."

You pinched the bridge of your nose and clenched your eyes shut in an attempt to bite back the sharp retort that was itching to burst from your mouth. "You mentioned a bit of tweaking," you sighed. "What did you have in mind?"

"Let's meet up." You could hear the smile in Sasha's voice. "We have some shopping to do."

}i{}i{}i{}i{

"Oh, my gosh. Why did I let Sasha talk me into this?"

You looked at your reflection in the hotel room's dresser mirror the following night, and cringed.

It was that bad.

The monstrosity before you was a so-called "sexy princess" as the costume's packaging read. It consisted of a pink traditional princess dress from the shoulders to the waist.

Things went downhill from there.

Instead of the typical skirt flowing to your ankles, it merely covered part of your thighs.

It was completely out of your comfort zone. Your ring gear didn't show near this much skin since your taste in gear was much like Nattie's.

You heard a knock at your door and sighed, completely dreading the party then. Opening the door, you found the four horsewomen dressed as Jem and the Holograms. You couldn't help but smile. They'd picked the perfect corresponding characters. Charlotte was Jem, Sasha was Aja, Bayley was Shana, and Becky was Kimber.

"Oh my gosh you guys look awesome," you said with a laugh as you clapped your hands.

"And so do you," Sasha exclaimed. "Drew is gonna lose. His. Mind!"

You rolled your eyes at the notion. "I seriously doubt that. He usually ignores me unless he's barking at me about something."

However, you couldn't get your mind off the way Drew had carried you to the trainer. The way he'd spoken softly to you after your assessment. How he'd advised you to tap out with such guilt in his eyes.

"Besides, what does it matter," you thought out loud. "It's not like I have the hots for him, anyway."

Silent up to this point, Charlotte actually guffawed. "Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself, babe. I mean... think about him a minute. What woman in her right mind wouldn't have the hots for him?"

Think about him?

If you were brutally honest, you'd admit to your friends—as well as yourself—that most of your time was spent thinking about him.

And that you more than had the hots for Drew McIntyre. You were halfway in love with him even though he treated you like dirt.

How pathetic am I, you wondered.

"Hah! You're blushing," Charlotte nearly yelled as she pointed at you. "Case in point!"

"Oh, shut up," you grumbled, grabbing up your purse from the little side-table by the door. "Let's get to the party already."

"Wait till she sees his costume," Bayley let out a giggle as you pulled your door closed and headed down the hallway with your friends.

You stopped in your tracks. There were so many promising, and sexy things Drew could go as. Batman, Zorro et cetera. "What's his costume?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," Bayley sing-songed over her shoulder.

"Tell me, or I'll shove that guitar down your throat, Bayley."

The woman snickered despite your threat. "He's sticking with his roots and going as one of those Scottish romance novel cover dudes. Complete with a kilt and sash. Hair is down, and flowing."

Sweet Lord, you thought as you hurried to close the small distance between you and your friends. How will I maintain my cool with Drew looking like that?

You didn't have a very long time to ponder that. He showed up at the venue about a half hour after you and the four horsewomen did. You glanced up the entrance just as he passed through it. And you froze.

Whatever you'd pictured... It didn't compare remotely to the sight that was Drew McIntyre in his costume. Nearly all of your favorite features of his were exposed. His long hair was loose as Bayley said. His broad shoulders and hair-smattered chest. The only thing hidden from your gaze that you admired—albeit secretly—was his muscular thighs.

His sapphire gaze suddenly caught yours and you glanced away, embarrassment heating your face. You slinked further back into the safety of the group of your friends and tried to forget what Drew looked like. Tried to forget what he made you feel.

A few dances later, you were completely needing to pee.

You made your way back to the ladies room and quickly went into a stall and took care of your business. Once you'd flushed the toilet, you hurried over to the lavatories and washed your hands before drying them on a paper towel.

You heard the door open and saw out of your peripheral vision as someone entered the room. Turning and giving them a friendly smile, your face fell when the lights went out and the small room was thrown into pitch blackness.

The click of the door locking seemed to echo through the room.

Your breathing quickened and you instinctively shrunk into the wall. "Pl-please..." You whispered, losing control of your vocal chords. "Please don't hurt me."

Suddenly, a hand was around your throat and a large hard body pressed against your contrasting one. Inhaling to scream, all you managed was a soft whimper when the fingers tightened just ever so slightly. A thumb stroked along your jawline, almost tenderly. Then your face was tilted upward, that same thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

And then a warm, soft mouth claimed yours. Kissing you softly, gently. And gentlemanly. A beard and mustache tickled at your cheeks and lips, and you sighed into the kiss, unable to help yourself.

And when the man finally broke the kiss, you heard a roguish male voice whisper in your ear. The tone was pure velvet with a Scottish burr.

"Been wantin' to do that for a long time, princess."

Drew? Drew just kissed me?

"I've wanted you to do that for a long time, too," you whispered in the darkness, reaching up to palm his cheek in your hand. You were rewarded by his large hand snagging yours and bringing it up to his face for you. "I wouldn't object if you did it again."

With that, his mouth was on yours once more, a soft swirl of his tongue over yours. His teeth snagged your lower lip and held it for a couple seconds before he gently nipped it and soothed the bite with a swipe of his tongue.

"I think we should rejoin the party," he said in your ear. "Before I do something I shouldn't."

You chuckled as you were led over toward the door. The lights came on and you took a second to truly ogle his gorgeous face and body.

"What is it," he asked, smiling, and dimples flashing.

"What started out as a trick turned into a treat!"

With a soft laugh, Drew opened the bathroom door and led you out. "Happy Halloween, my love."

"And Happy Halloween to you, my love."

THE END

#Drew McIntyre #Drew McIntyre Fan Fic #Drew McIntyre Fanfiction #Drew McIntyre X Reader #Drew McIntyre Imagine

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wwilloww · 3 years

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sh. | ot7 | chapter five

PAIRING ot7 x reader

RATING Explicit.

GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers.

SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no?

WC 8k

WARNINGS AND TAGS protected sex. friends with benefits relationship. dirty talk. power play dynamics. angst. semi-public nudity. mentions of open relationship. sexting. reckoning with feelings. talk of alcohol use.

AN: One million bazillion thanks to the best beta and geologist out there, @hesperantha. Everyday I think to myself, how the fuck would this series exist without this magical lady? And every day I am thankful for her beautiful existence.

Also, if you haven’t seen /the trailer, you might wanna check it out. Just because I had a lot of fun making it and it was super fun to visualize the characters and their tiny little world.

Going forward, you can read with they/them pronouns by navigating to the series m.list and reading from there.

That said, LETS JUMP IN!

← || series m.list || →

©️ wwilloww do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

chapter five

January 2020

What is left when you’re not sure where to turn?

You know there’s Yoongi. Dependable, familiar, predictable Yoongi. Predictable in the sense that you know, unabashedly, that no matter what, you can always count on him to draw a short term — but important — curtain over whatever notion, anxiety, or complication that happens to be singing in your mind that day. Erase it, temporarily, with those long fingers, gliding over your skin in expert patterns, drawing you and your pleasure exactly where he wants it to be.

And predictable in the sense that you know you will be perfectly and endlessly satisfied at the end of the night, no matter what.

See, Yoongi doesn’t mess around. He doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t draw you out and dangle you over your own pleasure. He gives it to you. Over and over and over and over again. Extends his palm and pulls as many orgasms from you as you can physically muster and then lets you collapse in his arms. Dependable, see? Dependable, always.

Once you’re settled in his lap, Yoongi lets you grind on him for a bit as he undresses you expertly, long fingers slipping under the fabric of your clothes before tugging them off gracefully and tossing them across the room. This, this he did love to do. Loved to scatter your clothes around and then watch you from the bed as you tried to piece some semblance of an outfit back together after he fucked you senseless.

“Don’t throw my bra behind the furniture again,” you murmur as you kiss down his neck. “I know you thought it was a great tactic to get me to rearrange your room the last time — but I’m not moving a hundred pound dresser to get my very expensive bra back again.”

He chuckles. Murmurs, “As you wish.” And then throws your bra someplace you can’t see.

Now that you’re topless, he lets his long fingers skate up the skin of your back, tracing the flesh of your hips and with such delicacy it almost tickles. That is, delicate until his hand weaves itself up your neck. His grip tightens at the root of your hair, tugging your head back in a swift motion and exposing your neck to him.

“How do you want me to fuck you tonight?” His voice is deep and it raises goosebumps on your skin. He lets his teeth trace a line up the sensitive skin of your neck until he reaches your ear and bites down hard.

“Fuck,” you breathe as a shiver runs through your body. Yoongi always took particular care to curate a library of knowledge about your ticks, turn ons, and vices. And then he played them out for you in an expertly coordinated hand.

“Yes, that’s in the cards. But tell me specifically how you want it.”

Behind him, the large bedroom is equipped with enough musical equipment to run a fully functioning studio. Instruments hang on the walls and a large black bed rests in the center of the room. The dark tones of the wood and sheets make the otherwise sparse room feel warm and dark. Compared to the shabby little apartment that you share with Namjoon, this is luxury. Your gaze rests on the large wall of glass that looks out over the city.

“The window,” you say.

He grins.

The glass is cold against your bare skin when he presses you to it. The difference in temperature between the fired heat of your skin and the iced window slices right through you, makes you gasp as his hands run over your body, taking you in as you are: bare and ready for him.

You watch as he strips off his clothes, gracefully and swiftly. First the shirt, then his pants. It’s no surprise to you that he’s not wearing any undergarments at all. Delight lights in his eye when he notices how greedily you watch him.

“Do you want me to—” He begins to lean down, but you stop him and pull him up.

“Just fuck me.”

He turns you around in one movement, your hands flying up to stop the impact, your chest — and your nipples — pressing to the glass. The sensation overwhelms you as he slides two fingers between your folds, collecting the slickness that has gathered there.

“You’re already so wet for me.”

A smile spreads across your face as you hear the condom packet rip and he slots his cock against your cunt, coating himself in your arousal.

“Don’t tease me,” you say, a hint of a whine slipping into your voice.

“Don’t worry. I have no patience for that tonight.” And he pushes in. “How’s that?” he says, the lilting tease in his tone cutting sharp against your ear as his dick sinks into you, inch by delightful inch.

It feels like you have to catch your breath to speak. “Is it always this good?”

“Baby, if it isn’t, you should ask for a refund.” He punctuates the last word of his sentence with a harsh thrust that rams your chest up against the glass.

“Fuck—” you hiss.

Memory whitens like it’s been covered in a blanket of snow as he begins a punishing pace, hips rutting up into you before drawing almost all the way back, tip barely inside of you before thrusting back into you, all the way to the hilt. Sensation overtakes thought. The slicing coldness of the glass against your nipples paints a stark contrast to the softness of lips pressed to yours, softness of a hand cupping your cheek—

You should be thinking of anything but that.

And it’s easy to do, in this moment. To focus on Yoongi, his commanding presence, the way he plays your body like one of the carefully polished instruments that hangs on his wall.

You cry out when he hits a particularly soft spot within you, and he pauses his movements, drinking in the sound of you.

“God, you sound so fucking good.”

He pulls out of you, turns you around, and pushes your back against the glass.

“Hop up,” he says, and you frown in confusion before realizing what he’s referring to. You wrap your arms around his neck and with a jump, wrap your legs around his waist.

“Fuck—” With a grunt of effort, he holds you up while slotting himself against your folds and pushing inside again.

The most you can do in this position is tilt your pelvis and grind down on him — while holding onto dear life — and you do, rotating it against his waist, drawing the most delicious sounds from his lips. Your hips begin to move in tandem, each pushing closer to the pleasure that you both so desperately desire.

This is better. This is worse.

See, the two of you have fallen into patterns in your hookups. Rules, even, although no one but you thought of them as such. But the habit — and therefore the lines — were clear to you:

You didn’t kiss. You didn’t confess your love. Hookups only, and breakfast together the morning after. Usually he takes you from behind, because, as he once commented to you, “the ass cheeks are the eyes of the heart.” Which to you, made no sense at all, but you still obliged him. Plus, at the end of the day it was all a little more impersonal that way, anyways. Easier to separate from the rest of your relationship.

But looking into his face, pressed so close — there’s something there. A warmth. An understanding. Too much.

Your head falls to his shoulder and his grip tightens on your thighs as he fucks up into you. Several heavy breaths before you bite gently at the sensitive skin of his neck and he hisses.

“You’re too sensitive,” you chide, although the teasing lilt of your tone is broken up by him fucking into your body — and you both know you love the way he lets you know he likes things done.

“And you’re too shy,” he cuts back. “Why don’t you look at me when I fuck you?” It’s posed as a question but you know it’s a command.

Slowly, you draw your head back and look at him. His eyes are deep and dark, his hair tousled and face lined with pleasure.

“That’s a good little pet,” he whispers. It falls too softly.

It makes you want to kiss him. All you want to do is —

You press your lips to his. Just a peck — the smallest, lightest of pecks.

But the plush of his lips, the way they part so slightly when your lips meet... it leaves you wanting more. So you kiss him again, pressing yourself to him, chasing the feeling of his softness.

He responds, opening his mouth to yours, his tongue darting out to meet yours. His pace doesn’t falter as he continues to fuck up into you. His lips move against yours, fierce, needy, demanding. And it’s then that your stomach drops. It’s as if the winter chill that lays just beyond the door at your back slices through your veins.

You pull back.

“No,” he says, and pulls you back to him. “Stop running.” He brings your face close enough to yours but doesn’t kiss you, just waits.

And you meet him in the middle, kissing him again, afraid of losing the warmth you sparked between you. He groans against you as your hips swivel around his cock, and bites down on your lip.

“Fuck,” you hiss.

With one arm wrapped around his shoulders, you let your other hand press against the nape of his neck, nails digging in just the way you know he likes it. You both have always been in rhythm, in tune with one another, but now with him kissing you — something new sparks between you. Something new, something terrifyingly warm.

When you pull back he smiles.

“Shit,” you whisper, your eyes widening. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi says, an edge in his voice, his hips still circling against yours as he presses your back to the window. “You have nothing to apologize for.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“Shh... stop. It’s okay. It was good.” He punctuates his meaning with a thrust, a small groan slipping from his throat. You want to swallow the sound of his pleasure whole, but still. You let the guilt in your chest rise to your throat.

“No, no, it’s not,” you say, though the coil that’s winding tighter and tighter in your belly makes it difficult to speak. You take a shuddering breath in as he hits your g-spot, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Yes. It is,” he grunts, and you can tell he’s close too. “You fuck better when you kiss. You feel it. You get into it.” Your brow purses at his words. “Now be good for me, forget it, and cum on this cock.”

You nod.

“Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“I’ll forget it, be good for you, and cum on your cock.”

“Good,” he smiles.

Each thrust brings you a step closer. He kisses you, again waiting for you to meet his lips, and together you move like dancing partners closer and closer to the edge.

You cum, clenching around his cock and crying his name into his mouth.

The two of you breathe heavily, foreheads resting together for a moment that stretches long enough for you to call it a distance.

“Fuck—” Yoongi says, pulling out of you and smiling gently as he lets you down. “I’ve never heard you come like that before.”

Heat rises to your cheeks.

“Hold on, let me get you a towel or something,” Yoongi says, pressing his thumb to your forehead and wiping away a bead of sweat. You watch as he shuffles about his room, looking for anything to give you. “One second, I think there’s clean ones in the dryer.”

He wanders out of the room wearing absolutely nothing at all.

When you turn back to the outside world, the glass is fogged and the world feels a million miles away. The tension that rises up in your chest feels like a wrought iron ball and you need out, out, now.

There’s a fuzzy blanket on the dresser next to you and you snatch it, wrap yourself up tightly and push open the glass door to the tiny balcony. With a held breath, you step out. The cold concrete sends a chill through your body as you step out. Blue washes through you, shocking the pleasure-numbed nerves in your body back to life.

When you suck in a deep breath of snow-cold air, it feels as if clarity settles into you. You take a second, but shuddering, breath as you realize with a lucid sharp pain the reality of your situation.

Yoongi didn’t erase tonight from your mind. Sex didn’t remove Hobi’s kiss from your lips. An orgasm didn’t ease the unnamable want in your chest. If anything, it all just burns a little brighter.

This thing with Yoongi — it’s not supposed to be a distraction for you, or a means to make you feel something else. It’s supposed to be its own thing, a compartmentalized friends with benefits situation that has always been clear and defined between the two of you. But as soon as you showed up on his door with an ulterior motive other than sex, it became something else. As soon as you kissed him, you made it something else.

Fuck.

Around you, fat flurries drift down from the dark sky. They melt as they land on your bare skin. There’s no escaping this thing inside you. But the intensity of the cold seems like it keeps you here, grounded, in Yoongi’s home and facing actuality. As if any form of warmth would leave you wandering into the sickly sweet honeytrap of the what if’s that already threaten on the edge of your mind.

“Come to bed,” Yoongi calls from inside. When you don’t, he comes out onto the tiny balcony and wraps himself around you from behind, his head notching on your shoulder. “Christ, you’re freezing.”

“It feels good,” you say, nuzzing your body back against his.

“I know I didn’t work you up that much that you need to stand in the snow to cool down. Come to bed.”

Still wrapped around you, he waddles you inside, earning a giggle from you as you tumble into bed and he slams the door closed with a bit of a shiver.

“Here,” he says softly, wrapping you in a blanket before settling beside you.

He’s close. Wildly close. His breath brushes softly against your face as you look at each other. You take in the flushed pink of his face, the way his hair is tousled into a gorgeous mess from the effort of your intimacy.

You could kiss him again, you think and a shock runs through your body at the thought. Christ, his cock’s been inside you a million times and yet you balk at the thought of kissing him, of pulling him right where you want him, where he fits so perfectly, where he feels so warm —

“What are you thinking?” Yoongi says softly.

“What are you thinking?” you cut back, just a little too quickly.

Yoongi chuckles. “I’m thinking that you keep yourself so tightly together.”

You smile tightly. “I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

You bite down on your lip.

“You’re thinking so loud I can almost hear it,” Yoongi says. “Just tell me. You know there’s nothing you could say that would upset me.” When you don’t say anything, he continues. “For god’s sake, I’ve seen your asshole. It doesn’t get much more personal than that.”

“Fine,” you say.

“Fine,” he grins.

“Maybe we should…” You trail off and bite the inside of your cheek.

Yoongi rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one hand.

“Maybe we should…?” He prompts. “Join a sex dungeon?”

You laugh, the thought of going to one with Yoongi is one that sends a thrill through you. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

“What were you going to say?”

You take a deep breath. “That maybe we should… stop. This.”

He doesn’t ask what you mean. He knows. “That, my dear, sounds like quite the antithesis to going to a sex dungeon with me.”

You laugh. “I can’t believe you’re making jokes when I am friends with benefits breaking up with you.”

“What? Were you expecting me to be angry?”

“I mean I expected a little bit of a fight. Or at least… I don’t know. Questions.”

“Do you want questions?”

You look at him.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. Well. Why are you ending things.”

You flop onto your back. Look at the ceiling. The way the lights of the city reflect paley onto the white surface. They look like ghosts.

“I don’t really know.”

He pulls you to him, rolling you onto your side and tangling your hands together. “Okay.”

And then the two of you just lie there, staring at the ceiling in silence, the weight of your decision, of this ending, settling over you with a concrete taste. There’s something uncomfortable in this kind of silence. But it’s not him, it’s not an awkwardness, or the building of tension or resentment. None of that lies between you. It’s the fact that within the silence the answers rise up in you, and you find the words spilling from your mouth.

“I don’t want it to be complicated, Yoongi.”

He waits a moment before responding. “Is it complicated?”

“Well.” You sigh. “No. Not with us. Us is easy. I feel like I can tell you what I need or what I want and I trust you to be able to either give me that or set a boundary.”

Yoongi hums. “I feel the same. So then if it’s not us...?”

“I made a mistake tonight. Crossed a line I shouldn’t have crossed.”

His brow furrows. “Not with me you didn’t. I don’t underst—”

“Not you. It’s me. It’s — it’s always me. I don’t want things to spin out of control. And I feel like they’re about to.”

Yoongi is silent for a long moment.

“I don’t want you to feel that way.” He pulls you closer to him, his grip tightening on your hip. “Really.” You stare down at your intertwined hands. “Look at me.” He waits until you do, summoning an inner strength you didn’t know you needed to look at your friend. “There’s a part of me that wonders how much of this is you punishing yourself for something that you don’t have any reason to be punishing yourself for.”

You can’t help the nervous laugh that shoots from your chest.

“What!? Are you laughing at me!?”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “Just… I don’t know what it is, but if anyone were to look right through me and see everything that’s going on, it’s you.”

He smiles softly.

“Do you want to stay tonight?”

Do you want your friend to wrap himself around you? Pull you in tight to his warm chest? Remind you of the summer that lies on the other side of this long, long winter?

“No,” you say slowly. “I think I need some space. To… process.”

He nods. “Well, as my newest friends with benefits ex, I agree, you should probably leave. You know. So it doesn’t get awkward.” He grins.

“Yeesh, you’re so quick to kick me out.”

“I know. I guess I just need some space. You know. To process, too. Grieve.” He paints a fake frown on his face and does a dramatic rendition of a very gross sniffle.

You giggle.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Together you get out of bed, Yoongi — for once — rifling through his room in search of your clothes. With every piece of clothing you put on, you feel like you take another step backwards. Away from Yoongi, away from the vulnerability in you that feels like it tears open everytime he looks at you. His comfort. Each new piece of fabric is another wall resurrected. But when you go to hook your bra behind your back, he steps behind you, taking the straps from your hands and gently hooking the clips together.

“Here.”

When he’s done, his fingers linger on your skin just a moment too long.

“Thanks,” you say softly, turning back to him.

His eyes are still blown wide, his hair perfectly disastrous. There’s something so deadly soft about him. He looks just as he did when you marched into his bedroom earlier in the night. And yet, on the other side of this night, you feel like a totally different person. As if the stranger inside of you has finally stepped forward and introduced herself.

You turn away hastily, heading to the living room. He follows and pulls your jacket from the couch and helps you into it.

Shoes on, jacket on, you’re all ready to walk out the door. And still you linger. Yoongi glances at his watch.

“Well, I’d say six hours is a proper mourning period. Breakfast tomorrow?”

“How about brunch? I’m not getting up at 9am for eggs.”

“Oh and I’m the one who needs space huh?” He smiles softly. “11am. You’ll get up at 11am and I’ll buy you a breakup brunch.”

“Yeah,” you smile up at him. Even as you taste the edge of fear — of anxiety — on your tongue, there is still a kind of undeniable warmth that blossoms in your chest every single time you look at him.

You broaden your smile. Push it down.

There’s one last thing.

“And—”

But he already knows what you’re asking. He steps forward, taking your head between his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. The shock that runs through you is quick and cold.

“I know,” he says. “This’ll still be our little secret.”

When he steps back, there’s something soft in his gaze — too soft, you can’t help but think. Tenderness, surrounded by acceptance and strength. All the things that make Yoongi, well, Yoongi. And yet it feels like too much to handle. Too much to be looked at, to be seen, to be understood when you can barely wrap your mind around what’s going on.

“Sleep well, buttercup.”

Different taxi, different driver, different route.

“Home,” you tell the woman at the wheel when you give her your address, her over-bleached and curly hair forming a kind of halo around her in the seat.

“You got it,” she says smacking her gum and throwing you a wayward smile.

As the car pulls away from the curb and picks up speed, you feel a kind of numbness wash over you.

It was the right decision to end things with Yoongi, you remind yourself, even as you feel a kind of twinge in your chest. You haven’t lost a friend. In fact, you’ve probably preserved your friendship. Saved it from wandering into the brambly bushes of complication and ultimate destruction. Even if it means the loss of killer sex.

You phone dings, and you instinctively brush a hand over your body to make sure you left with all the clothes you arrived in.

When you look at your phone, it’s not who you imagine. It’s not what you imagine.

tae: I forgot how loud you are when you orgasm.

You choke, hand snapping up quickly to cover your mouth.

“You alright, hun?” the driver asks.

“Yeah, yeah, just fine,” you say, but your voice is strained. You immediately type out your response.

you: fuck. i’m so sorry. you: it won’t happen again.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, embarrassment and confusion tightening around your throat. How much more can you really take tonight? Hobi, then Yoongi — now this? You tap your foot as you wait for the response, which takes just a minute to pop up on your phone.

tae: oh… well that’s too bad. I actually didn’t mind it all that much.

Oh.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re typing out your response — and turning down the brightness as if it will hide the loudness of your message from the world.

you: is that right?

tae: i said it didn’t i? ive always been a man of my word. brings me back to the old days, in a way.

you: oh?

tae: you know…

you: do i?

tae: you do.

you: it’s been a while. why don’t you remind me?

tae: you’re playing coy tonight. two very loud orgasms and you’re still not done playing?

you: i’d send that shrugging emoji but i can’t find it you: what can i say? I can be needy

tae: should i remind you tae: when we used to park behind the grocery store tae: there was never anyone around but you’d still get so shy and embarrassed tae: and try to cum without a sound tae: but i didn’t hear a single note of shame or restraint tonight tae: shamelessness looks good on you tae: **sounds good on you

you: you were always quite shameless yourself

tae: it gets me far in life

You blink down at your phone, not really sure what to say. Taehyung’s hearty banter is something you’re used to. Even after all these years, your quick back and forth was still twinged with the smallest teasing edge of sexual interest. But you had always kept it within strict boundaries, never returning to your previous relationship, never suggesting—

tae: but my question is how far will it get me with you?

Your breath freezes in your throat. Never suggesting that you return to anything of the past.

tae: jk tae: unless…?

Taehyung’s sexually laced messages have your head spinning round and round on its pedestal. It’s not as if you had never thought about it, never considered it. But there was a line there, was there not? A line you shouldn’t cross, shouldn’t even think of crossing, no matter how you wanted to. With a deep breath, you respond.

you: i don’t know if we should be having this conversation right now?

tae: why? because you’re my ex? or because of Jin?

Before you can even manage to type out the long list of reasons why you shouldn’t be dipping your toes into the perilous waters of sexting your very happily taken ex, the screen is lighting up again.

tae: if it’s the latter, don’t worry. he’s here too. tae: he says to tell u you’re hot tae: which is news to me tae: not that you’re not hot, but that he thinks that tae: and he says hes “sorry he missed the show earlier”

you: tbh that was NOT the response i was expecting to get.

tae: we’re very open about these things. he’s quite… encouraging actually

As if this is the opening, you walk through it.

you: in what way?

tae: he likes visibility in a specific way. he likes to watch. likes to be watched and… the attention, especially when its directed at me, especially when he knows that at the end of the day i’m crawling back into his bed

Your heart races in your chest.

tae: sorry, maybe that’s tmi.

you: don’t apologize. i don’t mind tmi

tae: then i won’t apologize.

you: good.

tae: good 😂 tae: you know, i liked it.

you: sorry, liked what?

tae: hearing it tae: hearing you cum

you: did you?

tae: more than i expected

you: more than you should?

tae: that’s not what i said

you: well, like i mentioned, it won’t happen again

tae: why not? You finally get me to admit i didn’t mind it and now you’re telling me i won’t get more? :(

You chew on your bottom lip before responding.

you: it’s complicated.

tae: an orgasm is never complicated.

you: …

tae: but you know what is complicated? tae: feelings. tae: you’re having feelings. tae: oh my god you’re in love with yoongi

you: i am nOT in love with yoongi you: surprisingly it has very little to do with yoongi

Even as you send the text, you know that’s not entirely true.

tae: okay, then what’s going on??? pls don’t play cryptic with me, it’s too late for that shit

you: i don’t even know what’s going on.

tae: oh. tae: so we’re talking big boy emotions

you: i don’t have *emotions*

tae: you’re a fucking liar

you: hey you: language

tae: alright then let me rephrase it tae: what are you so afraid of will happen if you let yourself feel?

Your heart catches in your throat. Oh.

“We’re here,” the taxi driver says, and your head snaps up from the light of your phone to see your apartment complex towering high and familiar above you.

“Oh!” You blink yourself from your reverie and hand the woman the cash for the ride. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” she says, twisting around to look at you as you skootch across the backseat. “Hey—” You pause, looking at her. The orange glow of the streetlights rings like a halo around her head. “You take care of yourself, alright?”

“Alright,” you smile and nod.

A haze settles around your body as you climb out of the taxi. The hard edge of soberness and the sharpness of the winter air mixes and shocks life back into you as his question rings around your head. What are you so afraid of will happen if you let yourself feel?

Your breath feels strained as you climb the echoing stairs to your home. The sound of the key fitting into the lock rings with a harsh click, but it brings you back into your body, to the little marks where Yoongi’s hands dug into you, to the confusion that rattles around your mind, and finally, and most devastatingly, the warmth that has sunk deep and inextricably into your heart.

The apartment is dark when you enter.

“Namjoon?” you call out.

No one answers. You don’t bother to flick on the lights as you feel your way blindly through the darkness, hand brushing against the soft fabric of your sofa, the bumpy texture of the wall, and finally the cold knob of your door. Instead of pushing the door open though, you lean against it, taking what feels like the first full breath of the night.

You look at the screen of your phone, Tae’s question, his voice, spiraling around your head. With a shaky breath you respond, fingers flying across the blue light of the screen.

you: something feels off. I don’t… i don’t want to mess anything up. I feel like the only way to keep things in order is to keep myself out of it all.

tae: can i call you?

you: yeah. Joon’s not home.

You finally press into your room. All that silver light from the city reflects off of the white flakes that flutter softly down from the sky. It spills onto your bed like a pool of molten silver, waiting, chilled and cold for you. You flop down onto it, your breath coming out in a long huff.

When your phone rings, there’s a second of hesitation before you hit the answer button.

“Hello?” your voice is shakier than you expected.

“One second.”

You hear the rustling sound of Tae getting out of bed and the door shutting.

“If I can hear you orgasming, Yoongi sure as hell can hear a phone call,” Tae whispers, a slight chuckle to his voice. “Unless you’re just always unreasonably loud.” You can imagine the sly smile that plays across his lips right now. Another door opened and shut and he sighs. “There. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I…”

You trail off. You don’t know what to say. Don’t know what there is to say.

He says your name softly into the phone, the syllables forming such a familiar shape on his tongue. “Are you okay?”

“I...I don’t think so. I don’t feel great.”

“You’re home? Safe?”

“Yeah. I’m home.” You look around your room. Art on the walls, your little desk the messiest place in the room, stacked high with papers and photos and plants.

“Good.” Taehyung takes a long breath. “So. Tell me what’s going on.”

You want to. But your voice freezes in your throat and you can feel the way your silence falls around him.

After breaking up at nineteen, you and Taehyung had always remained friends. The truth was that even though you loved each other, you were so caught up in the physicality of it all that the rest of your relationship — and your relationships outside of that — began to deteriorate. No more sex, you both had decided. And at the time, that meant no more romance. There weren’t lingering feelings of resentment, but you did know — because you both talked about it — that you were both plagued with the lingering question of what if. What if…. But the answer was simple. You both needed more than what the other could offer.

Best friend turned lover turned best friend. If the lingering sexual tension was the only consequence of that, you could handle that. And if you were honest with yourself, you enjoyed it, in a safe, flattering kind of way.

But the reality was that the consequence of your relationship wasn’t limited to just a couple of sex dreams here and there or comments about your former sex life thrown about as jokes. The truth was that there was a permafrost of cautiousness that sat like a layer of ice beneath all of your interactions; one that only thawed away after midnight or a second drink.

Right now, the clock on the wall reads: 3:12am.

“You don’t have to tell me—”

“No — I want to.” You shake your head. “I should… I should talk to someone about this.” You take a deep breath as the sharp images of tonight’s events spiral around your mind. When you speak, it comes out a whisper. “I kissed Hobi tonight.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Or he kissed me. I don’t really — don’t really understand what happened, we were just standing there and had both had some drinks and suddenly it was happening and I should have kept everything within the normal boundaries, I shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have overstepped our friendship, but we kissed and I…” Your voice trails off.

“And you liked it,” Taehyung finishes for you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I did.”

“And it scared you.”

“Yeah.”

“And then you both ran away from it.”

“Yeah.”

“And your way of running away from it was to go fuck Yoongi again, huh.”

“Goddamnit, Tae,” you huff, annoyed by how right he is.

Taehyung chuckles. “Babe, I’ve known you way too long for me to not pick up on these kinds of things. These kinds of patterns.”

“Patterns?”

Taehyung sighs through the phone. “I love you, dude, but… yeah. Yeah. It’s a pattern.”

As you let his words sink into you, you realize. It is a pattern.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks. “Do you really want to know what’s going on here?”

You laugh softly, even as fear nibbles at your heart. There’s a part of you that wants to turn into blindness. That wants to shield your heart from the reality of the situation. From the reality of yourself.

But there’s also something about facing into the truth — clear and cold like the night waiting just beyond your window. You want the shock of truth through your body, glaring and sharpened like ice. Because at the end of the day, you’ve had enough of this numbed ignorance.

“Yeah. Go for it.”

“This might be out of the blue. And you might not want to hear it. I could be totally off—”

“Tae, it’s okay. I want to hear it.”

He takes a deep breath. “But maybe… just maybe, it’s time to think about the way you push people away.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you whisper, although the reality of what he’s saying is already dawning on you, even if it’s at a glacial pace.

“How you let people in just long enough, just far enough, to let them see something authentic of you. But you don’t really let them take any real stake in your life.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“And that’s okay!” He adds quickly. “At least, it has been okay. We do what we need to do to keep ourselves safe, but… I think you’re past that all now.” You take a shuddering breath and he pauses. “That place in your life where you need to keep the walls and the rules so strict for fear of falling. You’re not there anymore, babe. Maybe it’s time to start looking at the wall that you’ve built and considering letting yourself tear it apart.” And then, so softly you think his voice might be made of something as delicate as a flower petal: “You know, maybe it’s time to think about how you want to start letting love in again. Because you deserve it.”

It’s not until you brush your hand against your cheeks that you realize they’re wet. You look down at your fingertips, glistening with fallen tears, shining silver in the snowlight.

“Fuck, Tae.”

Taehyung lets loose a light, but pained, chuckle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. “Goddamn it.”

Silence settles between the two of you. Tears slip silently down your face as you hold the phone to your ear. You can hear him breathing softly on the other end, but Taehyung doesn’t say anything. It’s as if he knows you need a minute to process.

His words slide right under your skin. Directed straight at the thing that has felt so heavy in your chest all night now, it’s as if the whole thing has been broken open within you. Suddenly, you can see it all.

The past years, this game of cat and mouse with your own vulnerability. This façade of carefully curated openness and faux vulnerability. All of the things that you kept as reminders of your freeness, your unlocked heart — the hookups, the fast and furious romances that ended in nothing but silence, the friendships you kept so carefully defined — were actually all just markers of the opposite:

A deep and abiding fear that if you let someone love you, a fear that if you let them close enough to really, truly see you, they might see something they won’t like.

Better to keep things clearly organized. Clearly marked and known and understood. That way you’d know exactly when things were spinning out of control and when someone was just about to get too close.

“You know, there are so many ways to love,” Taehyung says. “It doesn’t just have to be in that one way of fucking and falling in love and then a big white marriage, tada! the end. And, uh, it’s okay to want love. It’s really, really okay, actually. In whatever weird way love shows up for you, even if it’s not the traditional way. It’s even more okay to let yourself have that love, even if you don’t know what it is — don’t know what to call it.”

When your breath comes out shaky and ridden with tears, you can hear a soft oh echo through the phone.

“Hey,” Taehyung says with all the love in the world laced so delicately through his voice. “It’s okay. It might not feel like that right now. But opening up again — if, you know, if that’s what you want — that’s something you can do. It can be done.”

“I-I do, Tae. I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to keep fighting this.”

It’s as if you can hear his smile through the receiver.

“That makes me really happy to hear,” he says.

“Where do I even begin?” It comes out a whisper, your voice cracked from the tears that have begun to slow. You’re half afraid to even hear the answer. Half afraid to walk down the path riddled with your greatest fear.

“I think you begin by going to sleep. And in the morning I’ll call you. And I’ll keep calling you. And we’ll work through this together. You know, this isn’t something that you have to do alone.”

You’re silent.

“You’re in bed?” crackles through the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Go put on some pjs and go to sleep. You don’t have to do this all in one night.”

You nod, wiping the rest of the tears from your face and sniffling. “Yeah.”

“Alright. I love you to the moon and back, no matter what. You know that. Right?”

You close your eyes. For a second you imagine accepting that it’s true. It fills your chest with a new kind of warmth. One you want to sink into.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you too, Tae.”

“Get some rest then. Goodnight.”

“G’night.”

The dial tone clicks and the room falls into complete silence. Only the sound of your breath breaks through, too loud and uncomfortable amidst the darkness. But still, you climb out of bed, dump some water on a towel and wipe at your face, and change into the largest t-shirt you can find in your drawer.

Tonight, you dream the first dream of many in a line that will haunt you — and spark you back to life. It’s Yoongi, his body pushing you up against the ice cold glass, his hands in your hair, his lips whispering, over and over and over again: Is it complicated?

In the morning, you lay awake, just feeling the way your breath falls heavily in your chest. You text Yoongi to tell him you can’t meet up. You look outside.

The world is covered in a blanket of snow. Unrecognizable. Beautiful. Washed clean.

Something hopeful flutters in your chest.

When you look down, your hands are clutching the collar of your sleep shirt. With a deep breath, you wrap your arms around your torso in a hug.

“I don’t really know how to do anything else other than this,” you admit to Tae one day over the phone, flourishing a hand you know he can’t see to emphasize the point you know he already understands.

“Well. I don’t know how much of it is really choosing to be different. Instead, maybe you ought to try looking at it like an undoing. Whenever you match up against that impulse to run, think about sitting with it. Feeling it. And then choosing to move in another direction. Yeah,” he says, and you can tell he’s nodding on the other end of the phone. “An undoing.”

What does this kind of undoing look like? you wonder.

When the world comes to a screeching halt around you, you don’t expect to find your answer. The reality of the pandemic and quarantine — the emptiness of it, the long, drawn out days that feel long and drawn out when you’re in them but that then seem to blend together into one long, monotonous, anxiety riddled day and leave you wondering and wishing for the end — it’s hard. It’s hard in that quiet way that’s easy to ignore and push off, and hard in the way that there’s a big ache in your chest every time you go to sleep, one that crawls straight into your throat and sits there until the morning. It’s hard, and you learn to live with it. It’s hard, but somehow it brings you what you need. When distance seems to be the defining feature of your life, you don’t expect to find clarity. But you do. As you sink into the new routine of quarantine and pandemic life, and as life begins in a new rhythm with new rules and new realities — slowly and wildly new and sometimes horrific — it becomes clear to you.

What does this kind of undoing look like?

It looks a lot like feeling the emptiness in your home when Namjoon is away. Silence louder, space smaller. You find yourself reflected back to yourself, as if you are staring in a mirror.

It looks a lot like distraction. Emotional exhaustion turning into physical. You do distract — and it’s good — with a new drama or a new hobby. Exercising in your room until your cheeks are flushed. Cooking something new and delicious every night. Or sometimes just letting the small rectangle of light in your hand absorb you until the lingering discomfort is numbed, until you’re ready to fall asleep.

It looks like listening to your thoughts, really, truly listening, for the first time. Hearing the stories that you’ve built up in your head over the ears and how deeply they’ve sunk into your reality. It looks like noticing them, and wanting them to change. It looks like standing in the empty hallway of your apartment, feeling it all, and deciding to do something about it.

It looks like weird-ass sex dreams. Once dreamless nights are repopulated with strange and specific sexual fantasies featuring none other than your seven gorgeous friends in various states of undress and revelry.

It looks like letting people in again. Laughing on the phone until tears well up in your eyes. Building up the courage to tell Jimin about your vivid, even pornographic dreams. Writing letters when facetime just doesn’t do it anymore. Telling your friends just how much they mean to you, even when that voice warns you that you ought to keep your feelings held tight to your chest.

It looks like falling asleep one night, the traffic of the city now quieted by reduced travel, and the silence offering you a new kind of truth:

Love can be without limitation.

Love can be without limitation. It is allowed to flow from you without doubt or embarrassment. It is allowed to exist in the world — and in you — without needing to be reciprocated or validated. And you are allowed to ask for it. To demand it from life, even if, at times, it feels like the only place it pours forth from is from that great gaping space in your chest.

The phone rings a couple of times before it’s cut off in the middle of a digital brrng. You’re ready to hear the familiar buzz of a robotic voice reading: the caller you are trying to reach is not available—

But instead, the deep, heady voice you’re so familiar with comes over the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hoseok?” His name feels foreign on your tongue. After all this time, pushing it away, pushing him away, welcoming his name back into your body feels almost like a fresh rain, washing away the dust on your skin.

“The one and only,” he chuckles. “What’s up?”

A ball of emotion wells up in your throat and the phone line hangs in silence as you try to glue together what you want to say, what you had practiced to say, what you should say. But it feels as if it’s all disappeared.

“I thought—”

“Did I mess up?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion. “What? No, I—”

“That night, I had so much to drink, I’m worried that… I messed up, that— ”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Hoseok.”

You can hear the breath release from his lungs and shudder through the phone. “Oh.” It’s silent for a moment. “Oh. Okay.”

“I just…” You close your eyes. Take a deep breath. “I just miss you.”

“I miss you like there’s an ocean between us,” he says, laughter mixed with sincerity threading through his voice.

“It feels like there’s ocean between us,” you sigh.

“I know,” he says, too quickly for him to realize the meaning behind your words. “But I promise this will all be over soon, babe. How long can something like this really last? In no time it’ll all be done with and I’ll be right back beside you. Right?”

You smile. “Right.”

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tyb1 · 3 years

Text

If It’s The Right Thing To Do (4)

Words:2886

Character: Seth Clearwater

Note: let’s imagine your Sam’s little sister

Dialogue prompt:“So let me get this straight when I need you you’re nowhere to be found but when I do something dumb you magically appear.”

Series List

tag list: @alecvolturiswifeforever @scoverdale1 @anndaydreamer @fae-lore @queen-of-embracing-uncertainty @nickangel13 @bi-bi-spencer@a-vild-bluemyrtle @little-miss-naill @crystalxavlove @ilovesethclearwater

Seth Clearwater Masterlist

A/N: message me or comment if you’d like to be on the tag list. sorry it took so long I love you guys:)

“I’m sorry Seth but you and I both know that what you’re saying is bullshit.” I snatched my hand away from his chest, the feeling of his racing heart was no longer there. I knew he wasn’t lying about what he said but for his and my sanity, we both needed this to end here. This entire relationship was causing too many problems...well before he decided to join the Cullens.

“What (Y/N)....what are you talking about?.” He stood there with tears in his eyes, I’m surprised he didn’t let them fall like I was letting mine fall. That was one thing I hated about him. He held in all of his emotions and then when it came to the breaking point he would explode. Trust me when I say it’s not a good sight to see.

I had to put off a bold face for him. I couldn’t let him know that I was actually dying inside. I was letting a few tears slide down my face but that didn’t compare to the aching feeling that I was feeling inside of me. It was the same feeling I felt when he first left me.

“Fine since you want me to say it so badly”- I roughly pointed my finger in his face.- “ Leave me alone. We’re breaking up so don’t call me, or text me until you get your priorities straight. I’ll be home when you get your shit together.”

Seth couldn’t look me in the eyes, he started to kick the dirt with his feet. The sand below him started to change different colors from the tears that were falling upon it. He started to mumble a few words but the only thing I could hear was. “You don’t have your priorities straight either (Y/N).”

“It’s because I’m dealing with your shit! I’m around here following you like a lost puppy when you only play mind games with me! I’m so done with you and your bipolar ass!” I spat bitterly, I turned my back to him then marched towards Sam. I turned around to look at him once more, I instantly regretted it. He stood there with his hands in pockets with his head still hanging low. His head shot up instantly making eye contact with me, I quickly snatched my gaze away from him. This was going to be a new start for both of us so I didn’t need to be drawn back in with his puppy dog eyes.

Seth POV 2 weeks later

I was too much of a coward to say goodbye. I was truly heartbroken. I wish I could run to her and tell her that I love her and tell her that I cherish everything about her but I know she wouldn’t believe me. I was all out of options. The only thing that felt right to do was to cry and that’s what I did. I cried so hard that day that Jake had to carry me home on his back. It’s been two weeks since I have last spoken to (Y/N), two of the longest fucking weeks of my life. I thought losing my dad was painful but this...this has won the race. I couldn’t bear the heartbreak so I started to stay out longer. I asked to take over Leah and Jake’s patrol hours. I don’t even remember the last time I ate. I can only remember our last encounter, it’s like a nonstop movie in my head it was causing me to go insane.

I hate it here.

I have been spending most of my days down at the border. I was monitoring the days where Colin and Brady patrolled, they were my best option to trick into letting me cross the border. It was my only way to apologize to (Y/N). So here I was trying to wave down Collin and Brady so I could continue with my ridiculous plan.

“Hey! Colin, Brady pshhh, come here!” I yelled out in the distance to the two wolves. I was standing at the border waiting for them to shift as well. I wasn’t in my wolf form. The last thing I wanted to do was be a threat to them.

Brady was the first to walk from behind the tree while Colin stood behind the tree too nervous to face me. I could read their body language from a mile away, they were very uncomfortable with being around me.

Brady snarled at me, I observed as all of the muscles in his body grew tense as he spoke. “I heard you got into it with Paul. He should have ripped your fucking head off.”

“Wow I wasn’t expecting that from you Brady, but thanks I guess.” I wasn’t trying to be an ass but it just rolled off my tongue. Straight away I regretted it, it only pissed him off even more.

Brady pulled Colin by the collar of his shirt pushing him towards me. The kid could barely keep his posture straight or his eyes focused on me. He had no confidence in his steps and started to trip over the branches on the ground.

Brady pointed between the both of us with his thumb. He had an irritated facial expression plastered on his face. “Tell him what you told me when he left.” he spat bitterly, a small smirk was rising on his face but soon faded as Colin spoke.

“Do I have to?” Colin mumbled, he waved shyly at me. I took this opportunity to wave back to him. I gave him a small smile as well. Colin, Brady, and I were always close but Brady was always the fiery type while Colin was timid.

“Yes, you have to say it!” Brady exclaimed.

Colin rolled his eyes, “Fine, I said that you were an ass for leaving us behind. It wouldn’t be the first time that you left us.” Brady glared at him to continue, “I also said that you have a reputation for turning your back on us.”

I noticed Brady smiling at Colin; he must have felt accomplished. I must admit, I did feel bad, I left them behind but it was some things that they have not come to reality with. “Listen I need a huge favor. I need you to let me cross the border so I can see (Y/N).”

Brady rolled his eyes, “Wow so you just completely ignored what we have to say? Why would we let you cross the border and jeopardize us? Yeah, that was a stupid request.”

“You’ll do it because I am your superior. In Jakes’s pack I’m the beta...but don’t ask Leah or else she’ll lie. She thinks she’s the beta because she’s older but in reality, Jake named me the beta.”

Colin had a questionably look on his face, by now he has grown more comfortable with me and now is standing face to face just like Brady. “Why would you want to see someone who doesn’t want to see you?”

I was taken aback, “Why do you mean? She wants to see me, there is no way that she would not want to see me.”

“Umm I highly doubt it, she’s been living well since the accident. We went skating last week with us and the others. Not once has she mentioned your name.” Brady slapped Colin across the back of his head. I watched as the two bickered back and forth. Brady pushed Colin away from him. He snapped his fingers to gain my attention from my feet. I hadn’t realized that I was getting sidetracked but I was trying to figure out why (Y/N) wasn’t heartbroken.

“She made it clear that she didn’t want to be around you anymore Seth. Dude if I were you I’d really leave her the fuck alone. She really wants nothing to do with you. If you try to see her she’ll probably freak out on you. You’re pretty much dead to her.” Brady then smirked, “There’s also another guy that has been keeping her busy lately.”

Ouch. Well, that hurt...it actually hurt a lot. I cleared my throat so I could stop the tears from arising. We’re not about to cry in front of them!

Colin now slapped Brady beside the head. “You could have said it nicer, idiot.”

“What! Her words, not mine!”

“Just forget about it.” I spat bitterly, If you wanted to forget about me and everything we had then so be it. I could forget you just as fast as you did me. I could care less about those stupid ass memories we made together. Just like you said I really didn’t love you it was just the stupid feeling of you being my damn imprint.

I continued to walk and degrade our relationship. Jake tried to stop and talk to me but I just shoved him out of the way. He started to piss me off as well. He had his nose shoved so far up the Cullens ass he couldn’t tell you what roses smell like. Then here comes my second problem, Leah. I didn’t dare shove her. I didn’t want to pick a fight with her right now. I could explode on her and say some things I didn’t mean.

“Where the hell have you been!? Were you down at the border again?”

“Does it really matter?” I rolled my eyes at the screaming woman. If she wanted to be my mom then she should have birthed me out. She tugged me backward pulling her face up to hers. I stared into her lonely eyes as she did the same with me.

“You’re my little brother so you are my business. Stop doing dumb shit, Seth.”

I ripped my face from her hands. “So let me get this straight when I need you you’re nowhere to be found but when I do something dumb you magically appear.” I already knew where the conversation was heading. I was not in the mood to hear her shit right now because I was a walking bomb ready to explode.

“Did you go see (Y/N)?”

“No! I didn’t see her. Why do you make everything about her? I could care less about her.” I couldn’t control myself. I threw my fist into a nearby tree. It cracked and fell to the ground. I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the tears roll down my cheeks. As much as I wanted the tears to stop falling I couldn’t. I have never felt so empty in my entire life. That same feeling of heartbreak resurfaced throughout my body. My chest began to tighten, a sharp pain shot throughout my body as I tried to walk forward.

”Make it stop hurting Leah.” I began to sob uncontrollably. “It hurts so bad, why did she have to go? Why is everyone leaving me? What did I do to deserve this….I just try so hard to make everyone happy but when will it be my turn to be happy? Mom is fucking dating Charlie now. We barely see her anymore only on fucking holidays! Why did dad have to fucking go!? And you only check on me when it’s convenient for you Leah! Why is everyone leaving me, Leah!?”

“Seth I-”

I cut her off, “Don’t say it.” I knew I was going to apologize about the accident that happened with dad. I never blamed her for the accident. She didn’t mean any harm by it. I could never bring myself to blame her.

I started to wipe my tears with the sleeves of my flannel shirt. It brought back the memories of the time that (Y/N) would take my flannel and wear it with her converse and shorts. I started to cry all over again at the thought. I started to choke on my words, everything that was coming out of my mouth was undetectable. “(Y/N) was always there for me and now I chose the bloodsuckers over her. She doesn’t understand that it was the right thing to do. They were going to kill a baby. Leah, I don’t have anyone else. I’m so fucking lonely!”

“I know how it feels Seth. It hurts like hell but you’ll get over it. I’m sorry that you felt like I wasn’t there for you. I must admit that I was being completely selfish. I love you Seth and don’t you forget that.” I started to relax under her embrace. I haven’t seen this side of her since she and Sam were together. It was good to have her back though. “I love you too.”

I followed her gaze, she was staring up at the stars. “I want you to cry it all out, Seth. All of that heartbreak and sadness you have deep within you I want you to let it the fuck out. If you hold it in it’ll turn into anger then that anger will turn into bitterness. I’ll come back and check on you in the morning.”

I don’t want to be alone…

Leah’s footsteps started to become faint, I was left alone in my thoughts once again. I honestly didn’t want her to go. All I wanted for her to do was to hold me and tell me everything was going to be alright. I was stuck on ground zero like I was when my dad died, no one was there for me except (Y/N). She would probably hold me in her hands while whispering the things I wanted to hear. I wish you were here right now, maybe I wouldn’t be so angry at the world.

“Fuck it!” I started to yell out in the night air. I threw punches in the nearby tree to try and let my anger out. I hit each syllable of the words in the tree. “Fuck you, Sam! And Fuck you too Paul!! I’m not scared of you!” “I don’t care what anyone does and says to me. I’m going to see her and no one is going to stop me.” I didn’t stop until the tree flew back by the force of my hits.

I shifted into my wolf and ran towards her scent. Brady and Colin were still on patrol however they were both on the other side of the forest. It would take them a while to catch up to me at the speed I was running at. A sinister laugh escaped from my lips. This power or maybe it was the adrenaline….no, this was most definitely power. It made me feel invincible, By no means this was me finally sticking up for myself, or how (Y/N) would say, this was me finally growing some balls.

Her scent was in the direction of the beach, oh how could I miss that scent. I followed the dominating scent but there was something a bit off with her scent. It was a mixture of something foreign. I gazed out to the beach scanning every person that was out there. It seemed like there was a party, there were so many teenagers out around the bonfire. I growled out as I watched you sit on a log with another guy’s hoodie on. His cheap polo cologne filled my nostrils. You were sitting there laughing at something that he said which probably wasn’t that funny.

“Tch, I want to know what’s so funny.” Anger arose in my body causing my teeth and claws to sharpen. My breathing became irregular and there was a tight feeling in my chest. I tried to ignore it but the harder I breathe the more painful it becomes. I took a step forward and instantly collapsed on the ground. My wolf form quickly disappeared and there I was laying on the ground in the fetal position. I tried to crawl but my body felt numb. The only feeling I had was the tears falling from my eyes down my cheeks and onto the ground. I even tried to scream out your name but nothing came out but a gasping sound.

Was I dying?

I started to cry even harder, the thought of dying always freaked me out but the thought of leaving you with guilt made me feel even worse. The sobs were coming out more frequently than I anticipated. I didn’t have time to catch my breath or even think straight. Everything felt like it was closing on me. The air around me started to thin out making me feel dizzy. The pain in my chest starts to become more unbearable.

“(Y/N) wait...I..I...can’t breathe!” I choked out the words barely having the strength to do it. My head started to pound from the lack of oxygen I was getting. My hearing was becoming undetectable. I felt my body go stiff and my eyes fluttered shut as well, everything became dark and warm.

It took every bone and ounce of energy to draw a tiny heart near me. If (Y/N) found me like this then she would see the heart. She’ll know that I died loving her...right? Was I even dying or am I just being dramatic? I don’t know, I just want to embrace the warmness that surrounding me right now.

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peachsayshi · 3 years

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Chapter 7 - Games

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Teasing and a little bit of Fluff.

Summary: Trying to make sure the two of you stay out of the bedroom, you suggest playing a game of Twister and Gojo's mind starts to wander.

A/N: Sorry if there are mistakes! I don't have a beta and get tired rereading the chapters over and over again. This is a little short but we have some fluff and feels and we get a little insight on how Gojo has been feeling. I'm building up to something, I promise!

- - -

“Okay, left foot on green…”

With his right foot remaining on the red circle, Gojo spread his legs wide to place his left foot on the green circle towards the end of the mat. Things were easing up on his end when it came to work and he decided to take advantage of that by spending his free time with you tonight. What he didn’t expect was for the two of you to be in the middle of your living room playing board games instead of the usual physical activity that you both have grown accustomed to partaking in.

“Is this really how you want to spend our evening together?” he asked, taking the spinner from your hand as he proceeded to flick the arrow with his thumb and index finger.

You nodded your head, “We need to keep ourselves out of the bedroom. Otherwise, we will never leave...”

Gojo rotated his neck from side to side before replying, stretching to prepare himself for the awkward positions he was about to hold, “you’re making it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“Listen, game night is going to make up for movie night which never happened because we wound up doing it on your couch instead...”

A smug grin spread across Gojo’s face, thinking of your failed plan to have a scary movie marathon with him. You were hoping to catch the sorcerer squirm but what you didn’t expect was him teasing you thirty minutes into the film that inevitably resulted in you being fucked senseless on his couch.

“You’re really going to put the blame on me for that? If you were paying attention you wouldn’t have succumbed to my advances so easily,” he retorted defensively.

“You had your hand up my skirt!”

“Now, I told you what that skirt does to me,” he jokingly snapped, pointing his finger at you sternly before shrugging his shoulders. “I couldn’t help myself…”

“Okay, well how about the night we were supposed to go out for dinner but missed our reservation because you decided to rip up my dress on the car ride over…”

“Let’s not get too dramatic, I merely broke the zipper and I did buy you another dress.”

“Okay, how about last night?”

Gojo parted his lips, pausing to think how the two of you wound up naked in the shower instead of going to the karaoke bar with Rina and her friends.

“Last night... wasn't my fault,” he pointed out, arching his brow at you as he recalled the way you teased him into submission.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right…” you shyly replied, biting your bottom lip as you scratched the back of your head. “So, uh, what’s my next move?”

“Quick to change the subject, I see?” Gojo answered with an easy smile, “Put your left hand on the blue circle…”

With your feet on the green and yellow circles, you leaned your body forward to put your left hand on the blue sphere. Meanwhile, Gojo dropped the spinner on the ground beside you, suppressing a laugh as he watched you struggle to spin the arrow and call out his next round.

“The point here is...” you grumbled as you tried to adjust yourself back into a comfortable position, “...the two of us are getting carried away. I just think this little break might do us some good.”

“I don’t think working up a sweat is a bad thing,” Gojo insisted.

“Well, we can burn calories after I kick your butt,” you added on, waiting for the arrow to land. “Right hand on green...”

“For someone trying to make sure we keep our distance, you sure picked an interesting game tonight,” Gojo teased, finding his new posture which brought his face close to yours.

“I know for a fact that you can’t cheat playing Twister,” you reminded, before glancing up at him from under your lashes and inching forward to peck him on the tip of his nose. “Besides, I never said I wanted space, I just thought I’d change things up for the evening.”

Gojo’s smiled into your lips as he gave you a soft kiss in return, “if you think you can distract me by being cute, you are absolutely wrong .”

“We both know how much of a sore loser you can be,” you answered back, “I just hope you’re ready to throw yourself a pity party by the end of this because I am definitely winning.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say. Right hand, blue…” he continued, trying to pay attention to the game and observing you reach your arm slightly underneath him to place your hand on the circle.

He couldn’t explain when things became this comfortable with you. If he had known that hooking up with you would bring you both closer together as friends, he wouldn’t have rejected your offer that easily.

You’ve both already broken one of your rules. However, Gojo didn’t mind forgoing the “drinking” rule to decide whether or not the two of you wanted to hook up. You both no longer needed the excuse anyway, after a while it became painfully clear that regardless of what the plans were, things always resulted in the two of you tangled up in someone’s bed sheets.

The sorcerer spent a majority of his spare time alone, unaware of how much it bothered him until you came along. He thought about the way you described yourself when you were in a relationship with your ex-boyfriend, and wondered if this felt similar in any way. Not that he considered you as anything other than a friend...but he was curious .

You both were different in many ways but often clashed when it came to your perspectives on love. You believed that there was a person out there for everbody, that there was nothing like falling in love with somebody who looked at you as if you were their whole world.

Granted, those were your opinions when you were in a happy and loving relationship but Gojo always disagreed with you because he was convinced that relationships were messy and only brought unnecessary drama to the table. That’s why he had his own personal rule that was standard practice when it came to his “love” life.

He never hooked up with somebody more than once.

Rumors about his womanising ways only stemmed from the fact that he did actually have plenty of lovers. However, he could barely recall their faces and didn’t even remember their names. Sometimes they recognized him on the street, and foolishly attempted to strike up a conversation with the handsome, rich stranger who paid for their company.

Gojo would politely brush them off every time. His stone cold reaction broke the hearts of those who were lucky enough to even be in his presence. He surely didn’t need to pay for the escorts or call girls but the act itself was easier and he had the money to spend anyway. These acquaintances never asked him any questions about his personal life, which benefited him greatly because it left very little room for anything other than small talk. Once both parties were satisfied, Gojo would leave every encounter without ever looking back. Sex was a routine way for him to blow off steam or merely take care of his natural urges. However, you didn’t know that you were the first person who he consistently kept as company in the bedroom.

Up until this moment, he had been suppressing his desire for you. Now that he has you, the sorcerer could tell he was getting greedy. He respected your wishes when you asked him not to see anyone else on the side but surprised himself when he realised that he had no interest in seeking out the strangers that used to keep him company at night.

Even though you both insisted that this new partnership had no influence on friendship, Gojo was observant enough to see that it was not the case. Little things were starting to change here and there, and he was carefully making note of it every time it happened.

For example, whenever he was off fighting curses, you started habitually checking up on him to make sure he was okay. One night when he was unable to answer his phone, he received a string of unusual text messages from you to find out what happened. He remembered calling you right after, teasing you to ask if you were worried about him. You surprised him with your fear, how you easily believed that something was powerful enough to harm him despite him repeatedly telling you that nothing could touch him. When you responded to his question with a sincere yes, an unexpected sensation spread across his chest. If he wasn’t paying attention to how much you cared about him before, he was more aware of it now.

To ease your worries, he made it a point to shoot you a text whenever he could just to let you know that he was alright. Although, he did sometimes forget which resulted in you panicking on the phone with him. Only this time, Gojo never made fun of your concerns.

In turn, he realised how fiercely protective he became of you and it killed him whenever he had to deflect your questions when you asked about his life. There was so much you wanted to know and so much that he wished he could tell you. However, he had every intention of maintaining this invisible boundary. The last thing he wants is for you to get caught up in something that you couldn’t understand. If he were to invite you into his whole world, that would only lead to you facing dangerous threats that loved to lurk in the shadows.

He would never forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

A few more rounds passed, and the two of you were intertwined in the most precarious situation. You were in a reverse tabletop position, looking like a crab with two hands and feet on the blue and yellow circles. Meanwhile, Gojo was in a plank position above you, his palms pressed on the red and green circle by your side, with one foot next to yours on a blue circle and another on a yellow circle.

You were shaking underneath him, desperately trying to maintain your awkward stance while Gojo appeared bored holding his own position with ease.

“Okay, I didn’t take your strength or height into consideration…” you groaned with a pout.

A chuckle escaped his lips, “give up, yet?”

“No…” you groaned, eyeing the spinner by your side as you reached for it with your right hand. You lifted your head slightly, your neck straining as you tried to call out the next move. “Left foot, green…”

Gojo picked up his leg but as he stretched himself out he realised that he couldn’t bend himself properly in that particular way.

Your eyes widened, watching him shake as he tried to rotate his body without lifting himself completely up off the mat.

“Or maybe your height is actually a disadvantage?” you questioned, ignoring the way your arms burned from holding yourself up as your heart raced with anticipation.

“Shhh, I’m concentrating...”

Gojo kicked his leg out one way and then the other, the comical image of his tall body in motion only made you laugh at his reaction. He tried his best to ignore the sound of your voice but knew that he could barely maintain his balance as he tried to find the green circle. However, he miscalculated the gravity of his own weight when he shifted to the left side of his body, his elbow buckling underneath and causing him to collapse.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, raising your arms up in victory, paying no attention to his body pressed on top of yours.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in deep to inhale the scent of your soap. He felt your hand pat the back of his head lightly, indicating that you wanted him to get off from on top of you. He slowly unraveled himself, irritated by his own misfortune as he rolled onto his back to lay down beside you. He tilted his head to look at you, noticing you turn so you both were making direct eye contact with each other.

Gojo always knew you were beautiful. Nothing in this world could convince him otherwise but he never paid attention to the details of how pretty you actually were. Little things about you that made the gears in his head turn, from the gorgeous mane that sprouted on the top of your head, to the way your eyes sparkled whenever you were excited or how the curve of your lips was your secret tell to let him know exactly what you were feeling when you couldn’t find the words to explain yourself.

Why me? He thought to himself, if you wanted to fuck around with somebody then why did you ask me?

A kiss on his lips snapped him out of his drawn out thoughts, he felt the pads of your fingers along his cheek, slipping lightly underneath his blindfold to reveal just one of those blue eyes.

“Ready for another round?” you questioned.

Gojo softly smiled, thankful that you haven’t grown bored of him just yet. He lifted himself up, bringing one of his hands to cup your face as he pulled you in for another kiss. His tongue parted your lips and he allowed himself this one indulgence as he trailed his hand to the back of your neck.

Whatever thoughts that were running through his mind, he chose to ignore. There was no reason for him to consider such trivial things anyway. You were spoiling him with your body, playing out the fantasies that plagued his mind. He was aware that his greed fueled his lust for you and honestly did not know what he would do if you were to ask him to stop.

He deepened the kiss, allowing the frustrating thought to play out in passion instead. You shifted your position, your hand falling to his chest as you gripped onto the collar of his tee. Still holding onto the kiss, Gojo lifted himself upright so he was seated and as much as he would love to take advantage of this current situation, he chose to pull himself away instead.

“Best of three?”

“That sounds good to me!” you replied as you circled your arm around his neck, before returning to kiss him again.

Gojo gave in for only a second, before cheekily breaking away and tapping you gently on the forehead with his index finger.

“Oh no, you aren’t doing this to me again...” he said, his hands moving to your waistline as he gently pushed you away from him. “You wanted to have a game night and we are going to see it through.”

He leaned across from you to pick up the spinner, before settling back down and holding it in between the tiny space that separated you both.

“Winner goes first.”

- CHAPTER 8: HEAT -

#Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo Satoru x you #Gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fan fiction #Gojo Satoru fan fiction #Gojo Satoru smut #Gojo smut #Gojo Satoru fluff #Gojo fluff #gojo headcanons #gojo x oc #Gojo x ofc #Gojo x reader insert

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verryberriess · 3 years

Text

Whatever This Is | Chapter 1

READ PROLOGUE HERE!!

Whatever This Is

Synopsis: In which Jude and Cardan meet again after seven years, but not on good terms.

thanks to @maastrash for helping me edit LOL!!!! :D

CHAPTER ONE

The last time I saw Cardan Greenbriar was seven years ago.

Today, seven years later, we were a mere few feet apart. I’m unsure whether to feel relieved or insulted at his lack of acknowledgement. Relieved that maybe he has forgotten my face and I could continue along with my life, undeterred and unaffected as ever. But insulted, because, maybe he has forgotten me.

“Are you ready to order?” The cashier startles me. I didn’t realize that the line had suddenly quickened in pace. He must be new, since I haven’t seen him around the Torre’s until today.

Thankfully, I respond with my usual order without thinking. The cashier nods and I fumble my purse in search of my wallet. I’m able to quickly spot my cyan-colored wallet and unbutton its strap with haste, fishing for my credit card from the compartment with my nail. The card is stubborn, in a tight space stuck to two other cards.

“Sorry,” I look up and flash the cashier a tight smile, embarrassment coloring my features.

The cashier responds in turn, his green eyes alight in amusement. “It’s alright. That happens to me all the time.”

I immediately return to the war against my card, which finally relents. I slam it into the card reader, chip in first. While the payment approves, I smile and say, “Thanks for your patience,“ peering down at his name tag to add, “Beckett.” He is handsome and new, and on another day I would try to get to know him, but I am in a hurry, so I walk from the bounds of the register and head straight towards the door outside.

The door swings open in response to my adrenaline and haste. I curse inwardly at the crowd outside of Torre’s that seems to have gotten even bigger. As I mutter “Excuse me’s” and sidestep around the large number of people, I inspect the streets for an absurdly tall head of iridescent midnight hair. I am quickly astonished to see that exact head right in the middle of the large crowd, showering the thrall of excited women with a crooked smile.

Cardan stands in the middle. While he keeps his hands at his sides, his posture is loose and his torso leans in to angle himself for a selfie with another woman. The woman presses her back into Cardan’s again. He doesn’t seem bothered by this at all.

I zero in on the changes in his features. He has gotten taller, his face more angular. His style has been perfected, dressed in a dark suit and decorated in gold rings and darks and blacks while the midnight black hair atop his head seems unruly and untamed, as if on purpose. All these years and he seems to have perfected perfection, looking more horrifically beautiful than ever. I have forgotten this obtrusive charm I had once been fooled by, and even after all these years I am disgusted at myself for still being reigned in, captivated.

But all of a sudden, for a few seconds, he turns his head away from his surroundings and regards me with his eyes, looking as if he were noting my presence with the same disgust, and then quickly looking away. The exchange was so quick, I had barely registered it.

Yet, as I stand at the outskirts of this group, I am reminded of the past, and how I have gotten over this already. I have replayed scenario after scenario of reunions in my head after the first few months of my departure, but I had never really anticipated some overly-large crowd separating Cardan Greenbriar and I by just a few feet.

A few feet that might as well be an ocean. Or two.

I can’t help but marvel at how we were once more than acquainted with each other. That look had reminded me that everything is over, that he wants nothing to do with me. Seven years could be more, if I refocused myself. I could do that, I reminded myself. Seven years could turn into forever.

A twinge of sorrow worms its way into my gut. I squash it.

I turn around. My coffee must be done by now and I want to head to work before I’m late. I suppose the sidewalk will take some weaving around and being late was not on my agenda.

My steps are forward. I make my way back to the door of Torre’s, pulling open the door to step in.

But a familiar voice, ringed with the same distinct tone of arrogance and authority that I haven’t heard in years, ceases any of my movements.

“You need to back up.”

My grip at the handle falters, and another person shuffles out on the other side. They thank me for holding the door for them.

Instead of responding, I turn back around and face the direction of where the voice had called. The atmosphere feels almost different. Where the women had once been gathered around him, they now stand at a distance, clearing for the space he had requested.

I watch one of them snap a quick selfie while he is in her background. She leaves the group right afterwards. My eyes move back to where Cardan is, but he is walking towards my direction, uncaring of the people around him.

I pull the door handle hurriedly and slip inside into the safety of Torre’s. The chatter and ambiance of the coffeehouse usually offer safe haven from San Francisco’s morning bustles, but not today.

I could feel his looming presence right behind me, about to catch up to my stride. I’m not about to do this right now. I don’t think I can.

The choice is ripped away from me, however, when a gentle grip takes hold of my wrist.

“Jude?” The voice is soft, a complete one-eighty from that of authority outside.

I still immediately. I first turn to check the surroundings, discovering that none of the women from outside have followed him in. Then, I glance at the hand which still grips my wrist. I try to shake it off. Cardan’s hold is firm, but he reluctantly lets go. He removes himself slowly as if he is unsure whether or not he should.

Taking a step away, he stands and shifts awkwardly. He is too tall now, absurdly towering over me. Where he used to be only about an inch taller, he is now a few inches above my height. He is no longer able to slouch against me without adjusting himself as easily anymore.

The distance between us is off-putting. Though traits like his height and broadness separate us physically from our past selves, it is the other changes in our approaches and personalities that further highlight the obnoxious tension between us.

Why he suddenly acknowledges my presence is a mystery to me. Why he is here astonishes me. I am unsure if fate is cruel enough to have forced us to meet in this kind of circumstance, or if this was a making of pure coincidence.

Cardan stares at me with some deep intensity. I want to be rid of his scathing stare, grab my coffee, and disappear from this whole ordeal. Pretend that this stain of an encounter had not been inked upon seven years of spotless script.

“Cardan,” I say stiffly. Once acquainted, but now strangers. I am hesitant to say more, despite all the questions that rage within my mind and my wickedly cursed heart. Everything about this is full of uncertainty and unpredictability. A type of situation that I am not entirely familiarized with, since plans and strategy have always ruled my life. It is frustratingly tiresome.

Cardan eyes the row of occupied couches, and later the arrangement of empty rustic tables and chairs. He gestures out to the seats, “Why don’t we find a seat? I imagine that we have much to catch up on.”

I secretly consider his offer, but my brain votes to think of ways to escape his reach. Before I can make a decision though, I am led away to an open table. I am reluctant to make this encounter any longer than it should be, but I decide that I should at least gain some reasoning for his recent presence.

“I’m glad you’re so eager to see me again. After all, it’s been so long.” Cardan resumes his usual nonchalant character. “What an extraordinary coincidence running into you here.”

For a moment, I remark on his wording. I am glad that this turned out to be an occasion of pure coincidence.

Concern or indifference? I decided on the latter tone to respond with. “Yes, it certainly has been a while. But considering how we left things, I’m surprised that you even want to be near me.”

He raises an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth lift slightly. “Considering how we’ve left things, I’m surprised you’ve let me into your vicinity.” It doesn’t look like it, but the small twinges in expression reveal that he is thinking of what to say next. I am about to retort back, but what he asks next catches me off guard as he continues, softly, “Why did you leave for so long?”

My cheeks heat. At this, I am suddenly hyper aware of how close he is, of his overwhelming heat despite the violent cold that rages outside, and how he almost whispers his question, with a compelling mix of rasp and seduction. He towers over me, as if using his height to shield me from the world like he has done so many times those years ago, but in this instance, it feels as though he is also looking for something. Cardan is cautious though, leaving room for retreat.

If I am not careful myself, I imagine that I would fall into his chest, and take advantage of the closeness that I had secretly yearned for nearly a decade. Seven years be damned, my focused mentality would dissolve into dust.

I announce my resolve by taking a step back. The distance between him and I is lengthened. Although my heart curses at me, my mind is indiscriminate. I hadn’t expected this conversation to go about this way. Though, I also didn’t know what to expect. Everything was unpredictable at this point and many things have changed. I didn’t know what response he wanted, because he should’ve known why I left.

“... Because of you.” I say gruffly. I leave little context, wanting him to fill in the blanks.

For a second, a mixture of hurt and surprise leaks into his expression before it is masked again. In that second I can’t help but relish in a small sense of satisfaction that I had got to him. Hurt for hurt. An eye for an eye. Whatever game he is trying to play at this time will not rouse a fraction of feeling from me. Not again.

“I see.” Again, Cardan contemplates. He does not show anything, but his eyes start to roam around us, like he is taking in the coffeehouse setting again as if he wasn’t just here only a few moments ago.

“Excuse me?” The green-eyed cashier from before stands in front of us.

He looks between Cardan and I. Cardan, in turn, twists to the direction of the abrupt voice, and slowly assesses his form. I watch his eyes trail up and down the cashier’s physique, his face contorting in judgement before glaring at him, clearly annoyed by his abrupt intrusion.

Beckett turns to me instead, smiling brightly. His dimples deepen and his white teeth flash to me. He holds out a branded cup of Torre’s. “Hey, Jude right? We called out your name earlier, but I don’t think you heard us. I thought I’d bring your coffee to you before it got cold.”

“Thanks so much, I almost forgot.” I take the cup from him and gently set it down at our table.

“Of course.” Beckett still hovers over us, his attention only towards me. “Andrea told me you were a regular here. I should have known.”

“Yes, I come here often. But it’s okay, I noticed that you’re new here too. And it’s Beckett right?” I ask.

Beckett replies, “Yeah, it’s actually my second day.”

Beckett hovers over us. I notice that he is handsome, with close-cropped blonde hair that is slightly grown out. His green eyes twinkle as he observes me in return. He is well-muscled and tan from what I could see of his arms, which are mostly covered by his gray, long-sleeved uniform.

I take a quick glance at Cardan. His fingers tap the tabletop in a particular rhythm as he watches the exchange between Beckett and I.

“Well, I better get back to work now. If you need anything else, check your cup.” Beckett smiles again and walks away.

I look back at the coffee cup and peer at Cardan who eyes its side, a murderous expression set upon his facial features. His eyes are cold and his jaw is clenched.

As I take the cup in my hands, I inspect the sticker attached to the side of the cup. A phone number written in scrawly blue ink is scribbled onto the light orange sticker.

“I didn’t realize hand-serving customers was a part of the job description.” Cardan remarks icily.

“Well,” I clear my throat. “At least he’s done something you didn't have the balls to do seven years ago.”

A/N: i haven't been here in a while... hello! let me know if you want to be put on the tag list lOL

#jurdan #jurdan fanfiction #jurdan fanfic #judexcardan #judeduarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota fanfic #tfota #verryberriess #jude x cardan #twk #tcp fic

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 21

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.9k

Chapter warnings: uhm, this chapter is Javier’s perspective ehehe, so, beware fo feelings

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode ten. // again, i am really fucking sorry, but we are ALMOST DONE OMG, also i wanna say thanks to my official cheerleaders @queenofthefaceless and @maharani-radha-writes that helped me a lot and @alliterative-albatross that made me feel sure of some of the ideas i had for this chapter, i love you lots, guys. While proof reading this chapter for the first time i understood why it was the hardest to write, it was because i had just to strip myself naked and understand more of Javier Peña as i had built him... i just... im not quite pleased with the second half of this, but i know its needed.

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gif: @javier-pena (thank you so much for making this when i needed it the most, ily)

The air weighed on his chest; he felt his lungs struggling to find air; as he drove home, he felt his heart pounding hard and fast, as if it wanted to rip out of his chest and run and hide and die.

As if his heart wanted the same he did.

Javier couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t even try to close his eyes after climbing into bed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

Jesus Christ.

His mind was reeling, he couldn’t stop replaying every single thing you told him in his mind.

“My name is not Florencia Martín”

“A precarious situation”

“Another Los Pepes scenario”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He wanted to crawl into a deep hole and bury himself to stop his body from feeling.

Javier cringed deeply when he remembered he had told you he had fallen in love with you without even thinking about it.

That certainly wasn’t the way you were supposed to find out.

He guessed, while tossing around on his bed, on the same sheets that still smelled like you, that he had it coming. He probably deserved it. But that didn’t make him feel any better, it stung.

It burned.

Javier had stripped himself naked for you, more than just his body, he had let you see him; he had let you touch him; he had let you read him; he had let you know him.

He had let himself feel and… he had let himself think he deserved something good.

He felt like such an idiot, stupid and embarrassed because there you had been… Standing in front of him, in a place he thought it would become something close to his fortress, breaking him. And he let you.

God. He had known you for less than six months, and yet he let you have power over him. All that power to make him whatever you wanted. He had handed you a sledgehammer and his heart and soul on a porcelain platter for you to shatter.

And he just took it.

Javier huffed at his own thoughts while his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he? Having let himself feel all those things he had been so beware of for a woman he never really knew.

What else was fake about you?

He felt that sting, known and oh so foreign clench in his throat and he fought it. He fought it hard. Why was he feeling like that?

“A precarious situation”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, clenching his jaw so tight his face started trembling.

He had to unclench it so he could open his mouth and gasp for air because his lungs were tightening in his chest and he knew he just had to let go. He shook his head to nothing and fought it again. He would not break. He couldn’t.

But then he remembered he was all alone. Just him and his mind and... he stopped fighting for the first time in years and allowed his feelings to pour down from his eyes.

Javier clenched his jaw again as he felt the thick, years old tears pouring and pouring, clouding his sight, flooding his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to nothing, resting his face on his hand and his arm on his knee, his chest struggling with the silent sobs he was drowning in.

Javier cried for around an hour.

He allowed himself to cry, to cry for you, because if he had allowed himself to fall in love with you and he had allowed you to wield power over him, he deserved a chance to fall apart as well.

He had earned it.

His tears of grief and pain became tears of anger and pain.

He was so angry; at himself, because, thinking again about everything you had told him, you had said something right; he had dragged you into having whatever the hell you two had. He had kissed you and practically turned your wrist into starting something with him only, and just only because he felt lonely. Because he felt like maybe, for the first time in decades, he could have something good. Because he felt like maybe it was time for him to love and be loved again when, in reality, he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.

He had let himself believe you could be something else, less complicated. But how wrong he was… Him? Loved? As if. Him? In Colombia? Laughable.

That country… It became more than clear how much he had lost by going down there.

He huffed again in between tears at how it took a massive hit to the heart for him to realize how much he had lost in the years he had been there.

He was so angry; at the system. The fucking system that forced you and him into taking assignments you didn’t deserve to take. There wasn’t another moment he hated more right then, than the moment he had said yes to returning to Colombia. His dad was right, he didn’t like what he found. And it truly changed him before he could change it. How he wanted to have listened to him, how he wanted to not be the stubborn ass he was and just… said no.

And you? You had taken an assignment that promised unreachable things, one that forced you into turning into a liar, one that didn’t let you be yourself.

Fuck, was he really trying to find justifications for what you did even though you had broken him in pieces?

He was so angry; at you. For lying to him and from dropping the facade, for taking off the mask that he had rushed to love, for thinking he deserved the truth instead of you leaving once everything was over. He thought it would have hurt less if you had just… disappeared.

He wouldn’t be crying at three in the morning on his bed if you had just vanished into thin air.

Javier remembered seeing the hope in your eyes when you were telling him the truth, who you really were, he saw it and he wanted to tell you he forgave you. But neither of you deserved something that good.

He was sure it all was some kind of karma. A penance for all his sins, a way too high price he had to pay for all the shit he had done.

He realized then, while sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, the same one he had shared with you for nights that felt burned into his memory, that you and him weren’t so different.

That you two had more in common than he had first thought. That you, as he had said to you before, when you were still wrapped around his arms on that same bed, were a person who was willing to do anything for a greater cause. That you as well were capable of doing anything if you thought it did good, that you also were capable of sacrifice, of losing everything as long as you were doing what you thought was the right thing.

And you had told him, as you cried your eyes out in front of him, facing him and facing and taking all the repercussions of your actions, that you really thought it was the right thing to do.

The realization was truly bittersweet. He didn’t like that even when you had broken his heart and stepped on the pieces as you walked out, he still understood why you did it.

After that despaired, miserable night, he decided he was done bringing you to the front of his mind, so he shoved all the memories of you and tried to repress them in the back of his head along with countless others he didn’t rather to address.

The next day he stepped into the office with less than half an hour of sleep he had seemed to catch while condemning himself in the solitude of his room and avoided looking at your still cluttered desk. Full of you.

He ignored Stoddard when he asked him where you were as he stepped out of the office to head to Cali an hour later and while the elevator brought him down to the lobby he tried to drown the way the mention of your fake name made him feel.

That morning you walked directly to the CIA office, every step you gave into the embassy hurt in your body, mind and soul as if each one had a dagger embedded deeply and an invisible hand was twisting each dagger deeper. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. You entered, unannounced, into Stechner’s office, not even trying to hide the enormous amount of pain you were going through. You were tired of hiding things.

“Ah, my favorite DEA agent,” Stechner said when he saw you walk in “well, not anymore, I guess.” he smirked and you felt his gaze linger on your body, shamelessly.

“Let’s just get this over with.” you muttered, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Oh, this is more than over, alright?” the man leaned back on his chair and reached a manila folder that rested on top of others on his desk and raised it so you could see it “resignation, what a word,” he said, putting the folder back on the desk, opening the folder and taking the sole sheet of paper on his hand “really? after you failed almost epically?” Stechner smiled humorlessly and took your resignation letter in both hands and… ripped it in half.

You drowned a gasp.

“You have a flight to Washington today at noon.” he let out softly, feigning a comprehensive tone.

“Of course I do.” you mumbled, dropping your arms to the sides, feeling your eyes flood with tears as you saw him tossing the parts of your resignation letter in the trash can.

You blinked the tears away and quietly took a deep breath, halfway achieving a fake sense of stability you had fed yourself since the night before.

What were you thinking, after everything you did they would have let you get off easy? Of course not you silly girl.

“Oh, honey, you need a hug?” Stechner asked with a teasing gaze and a fake tone of worry “I bet breaking up with Peña really did something on you, you look like a mess”

You tightened your jaw and rolled your hands into fists, Stechner noticed, and his mocking face dropped.

“Anything else?” you asked him, voice hardened, with your eyes staring right into his, admonishing him, warning him. He knew what you were capable of, you knew he did.

He shook his head twice, and you lifted your chin up.

“I really wish you the best, sweetie.” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his desk and trying to ignore the way your face turned into a scowl at the endearment.

“No, you don’t, you fucker,” you all but growled wanting nothing more than to erase that seemingly permanent smirk off his face that grew after he raised his head to look at you “you’re happy that I’m getting out of here like this,” you chuckled bitterly “you wanted this to happen, I hope you’re satisfied.” you let out all the venom you had been keeping inside you for that man in the last sentence you spat to him.

“You’re right, but I won’t say it,” he tutted and shook his head slowly “you really cost us a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled and you were sure you were about to spit foam from the rage inside you “I hope you know that.”

You sighed and smiled bitterly at the man. Ever so fucking disgusting. For the first time in your life, you wanted something bad to happen to someone. And you didn’t regret it.

“I won’t ever forget it.” you spat at him in a soft voice that made him glare at you with a serious face.

You turned around and walked out of his office, leaving the door open, feeling his stare on your back.

Feeling, then more than ever, the insides of your mind finishing crashing down. Finally broken. Fully broken.

You walked towards the elevator and pushed the lobby button, hoping to dissolve in the way, hoping the elevator floor would just break and the void swallowed you and your body crashed against the concrete floor of the second basement.

But instead, the doors opened on the DEA floor and Stoddard stepped inside, shooting you a concerned smile as the doors closed.

“Hi, Florencia,” he looked at you and you tried to give him a smile, knowing you failed “you okay?” he asked, you blinked a few times before looking at him. He pushed his glasses up.

“Yeah!” you let out in a squeal “just peachy.” you drifted your eyes away and sighed again.

“I… thought you were in Cali.” Stoddard let out after a few seconds, you turned to see him with your brow furrowed.

“Cali?”

“Well… yeah,” he shrugged “the boss and the guys went back to Cali this morning.”

You let out a sigh, of both relief and worry.

“Oh,” you said under your breath “no, I…” you shook your head and tried to smile at him again and failed, this time he noticed “I needed to take care of something else.”

“I see,” he mumbled, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out “you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at you, you nodded several times.

“Yeah, Stod,” you assured him, trying to make him believe it, not quite sure if you believed yourself “I’m fine.”

Stoddard nodded at you as the elevator doors closed and you waved him once goodbye. Knowing it would be the last time. You walked out of the embassy in complete and utter shame, and some part inside you screamed that you deserved it.

Javier rescued another witness that day, because he still wanted to do something right even though he didn’t feel right himself.

But then, after sending Guillermo Pallomari to Miami, he had to return to his office. That place he had thought was his fortress, and then it was turned into… a dungeon.

He didn’t ignore your cluttered desk this time; he was alone in the office, there was no one that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

A steel cup filled with different colored pens and only red markers, a pile of unsigned DEA reports, in one of the drawers a block of sticky notes running low, the same ones you made notes on and stuck on files when you reviewed them and that Javier hated to see because they were just so fucking bright, your red coffee cup you used when you didn’t have time to grab some at his house because he just kept kissing you until you both were late, which didn't happen at your place because Javier always woke up before you and started the coffee machine, a gun holster you hated to use because it just never clutched the way you wanted to your jeans and a small, brown journal he had never seen before and that he took because there wasn’t anyone that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

He hesitated for a moment to open the journal, unsure of himself or of what he would find. The first page had your initials, your real initials written on the far left corner and just a list of names he didn’t recognize, next a few scribbles and a phone number. Javier skimmed through the pages and around the middle he found his name. Written in your pretty handwriting, with a few numbers underneath that looked dangerously close to file codes.

He snapped the journal closed and left it where he found it. He shouldn’t have looked.

In his office he found all the documents you had risked so much to gather and all the intel you just handed to him, pretty much as he had handed you his heart.

Javier let out a sigh and grabbed the folders, sitting behind the desk and opening the first one.

He re-read every single piece of information until his eyes stung from the exhaustion, or the cigarette smoke, or maybe more unshed tears he was once again fighting so hard to keep inside him.

Tears of sadness, it was a given. But also anger, and frustration and pain, and, as a bucket of freezing cold water, years of regrets fell on him.

Javier had tried, had tried hard to bury all that shit in some far, deep corner of his mind, as he had tried to bury you and all his memories of the last four? five? months. He really did. But at that moment, sheltered inside an office that didn’t feel like his anymore, past midnight, alone and so damn vulnerable, it all rose to the surface and he found himself drowning inside a sea of his own mistakes and past sins.

It was unbearable to stay there. So he grabbed the files that felt like burning in his hands and took off.

And so, Javier went back to an empty apartment that even though had been his for a long time, felt emptier than it had ever felt without you and reminded him only of you.

Why had he allowed his house to become a fucking shrine to the time you had spent there?

Everytime he looked at everything, from the fucking lamp at the corner of the end table to the damn waterbottle you left the last morning you were there on his kitchen counter, an image of you invaded his mind. Like a suffocating wildfire, spreading with the simplest blow of the wind. Covering him, trapping him, burning him and turning him into ashes.

That night he drank almost all the alcohol he had left in his house and even then, with his body full of booze, his intoxicated mind all the time returned to you. To your face, to your eyes and that color that was so common yet somehow looked so unique, to your voice and how you called his name either on a whisper or on a scold, to your smile and how apparently you had one only for him, to your hands and how you used them one night to touch him and the next morning to grip a gun, to how you drove him crazy from the very beginning. Fuck, he loved you. And he hated you all the same.

You gave him your resignation letter, you had left a job you claimed you loved so much that you had taken on something that did you so much wrong. You quit because of what they made you do, and probably, just probably, he had to do the same. Because of what they did to him.

Was it worth it? Everything he did… Was it worth something? Anything?

He thought again of everything he had done in the past decade and felt sick at what his brain was showing him. It really wasn’t.

The idea of doing something good, doing something that could give him a little peace invaded his mind and he spent half the night thinking of something he could do to finally, finally feel like he was helping.

The next morning he found himself sitting in the conference room with Crosby hovering around him. He huffed at himself, sitting there as if there was nothing wrong going around, with the ambassador looking at him with his ever so present judgemental smirk, as if he wasn't just pieces of a man that put himself together with the weakest glue when he got dressed that morning with less than two hours of sleep after being trapped inside his house that smelled like you with nothing but alcohol and time to think. His pop was right, they did something to him in that country. He just didn’t know what.

“Y’know how many times I’ve gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?” Crosby rhetored, Javier looked at him, already tired of the lecture he was about to get “count ‘em on one finger, guess we have you to thank for that.”

Javier dropped his eyes to the oak table in front of him and absentmindedly tried to draw a pattern with the tip of his finger while half listening to Crosby telling him about his meeting with the Colombian president to demand that the gentlemen of Cali stayed in jail. He looked back at his boss and after half a second of pondering he told him he had a draft indictment of the president’s ties with the cartel, omitting the part of the story where he had drafted it half drunk the night before. And of course Crosby laughed at it.

Javier huffed again at himself when Crosby suggested he kept the draft to himself and he felt his blood starting to boil. He sighed and fought the urge to stand up and leave. What was he thinking? That a man like Crosby would back up a man like him? Just like that? What a naïve thought.

“The DOJ’s not gonna topple a government, Agent Peña,” the ambassador told him, obviating the statement, Javier felt his chest turn “you can’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess.” he muttered to Crosby, who walked around the table and stood next to him, Javier didn’t even bother to hide his face from him, god how tired he was of hiding.

“Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up,” Crosby spat and Javier drowned a bitter chuckle “no, I mean it, Agent Peña, you should be happy,” the ambassador said and Javier frowned at the man “you played the system like a goddamn fiddle, you won.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebut the statement but Crosby just walked behind his chair and left the room, leaving him with the word in his mouth.

He felt his stomach toss in disgust, at his boss, at his job, at himself. Fuck that.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled under his breath.

Did he really win something? The job that helped him escape from everything, the one at some point of his life felt like a dream, had become a nightmare. The woman he grew to love, after years and years of not feeling that, barely got out of there alive and the name he had whispered in extasis wasn’t even hers. Everything he had once believed in was melting away like wax on a candle and being washed away by a sea of regret, desolation and anger.

Did he really win something when he had lost everything? He had even lost himself in the process of what he and everyone around him had called a once in a lifetime opportunity to end a War that was so familiar to him it almost sat at the table on Thanksgiving with him and his dad.

And when he got out of the conference room, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the idea of following your steps and quit became a lot more attractive to him.

So he went back to his empty home filled with your memories, resigned that he wouldn’t sleep much that night either, and stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing why he felt like a visitor in his own house, chain smoking, thinking about everything just because he wanted to stop thinking about you.

Javier walked to his window and dwindled himself to watch the cars down the street pass, the city was so unaware of everything. The country was so unaware of how it was being torn apart by the same people that were elected to take care of it. And he was so fucking angry, at everything and everyone, at himself. And so tired. Exhausted.

The phone rang behind him and he didn’t even flinch at the sound, even when practically no one called his house phone. He just let the machine get it.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…” he stiffened in place when he heard your voice and turned his head to eye the cradle “I know you probably don’t wanna listen to me right now but…” you sounded small, your voice sounded thin, Javier turned around and walked towards the phone “uhm, I wanted to apologize again and…” he felt like he couldn’t think, his mind was filled with your voice as if it were a fog that clouded his vision, he wanted to pick the phone up, he wanted to ask you where you were and tell you to come home to him, but his brain wasn’t letting him “I–I’m in Washington and I tho–thought…” his eyes closed on themselves when he heard you sigh and choke down a sob “forget it, uhm, I just… fuck…”

Javier looked at the phone, the sound of static still there, he pondered if he should just swallow his anger and his newfound pride and just pick up.

“I think someone will contact you about this and I just wanted to let you know I–I didn’t tell them anything about... us…” he heard you chuckle softly and he just stood there, rolling his hands into fists, waiting for you to say something else, “I’m sorry, Javi, uhm… I really think I did the right thing by telling you, I’m just sorry it had to be like this…” you sniffed on the phone and Javier sighed, “I guess I also wanted, uhm, to hear your voice… shit.” he closed his eyes and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he said and gripped the receiver when the sound of the cut line replied to him.

Javier threw the receiver on the floor and sat on the couch, cursing at himself for his weakness and his hesitation altogether.

He rested his head on his hands while thinking on the few things you had said, if you were in Washington talking to the directives that meant they didn’t let you resign, that meant they were firing you. And you called him to let him know his involvement was minimal, because still after everything you were trying to divert the backlash from him.

God how he was tired.

That’s when he decided, he was going to do it. Not only for what you had made him feel, but because he just needed to leave back all the baggage he had been carrying with him for almost a decade. He needed to let go. He knew it, he needed to free himself of something that turned him entirely into a different person that wasn't even close to what he had been before, because no one else would do it for him.

And he had nothing else to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Once that thought occupied his mind, he finally could lay down on the couch and sleep.

The next morning Javier just re-dressed and called his journalist contact, he had decided, in his pre-sleep haze, that he was just gonna tell the truth. To everyone.

Just as you did with him, he was going to use all the information you had given to him to redeem yourself of your own baggage to get rid of some of his.

Even when he didn’t want to think of you, you were still helping him.

And the truth went out as he told it, and he let himself out of the whole situation by following your steps.

Until the ambassador called him into his office later that day and that time… Javier felt like he could tell the man absolutely anything.

He had nothing else to lose.

When he walked into the office Crosby was watching the news about his little interview. Javier walked and sat in across from him, feeling something that looked like freedom. But his mind was still reeling with guilt and loss.

“You didn’t really call the country that we’re guests in a narco democracy.” Crosby asked without asking, Javier looked at the man and shook his head once.

“Are you sayin’ that it isn’t?” he replied, looking at the ambassador tightening his jaw.

“The state department’s livid.”

Javier nodded a few times.

“Good, they’re responsible,” he let out and shrugged slightly “we all are.”

“Samper is not going anywhere.” Crosby let him know, quite exasperated. Javier dropped his eyes to the man’s desk.

“Well, at least people know the truth.” he said, including himself in the sentence. No more lies.

Javier saw Crosby shake his head and study the four walls that surrounded them, and he caught himself wanting to read him like you would be able to.

“I want you gone, Peña,” the ambassador told him, Javier guessed so “so do the colombians.”

“I understand, sir.” Javier replied and Crosby said nothing else. He looked at the ambassador for a few seconds and saw also a shell of a man. He guesses that it wasn’t so much the job that took a person’s humanity, but the context in which they do it.

He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You know…” Crosby called, Javier turned around “any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier licked his lower lip and allowed himself to look intently at the ambassador, the man looked at him with something he thought was pity.

“I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

Crosby stood up straighter when he heard it, Javier said it almost solemnly, and saying it out loud not only made it more real, but it really made him feel light as a feather for the first time since he was a teenager when he walked out of the ambassador’s office for the last time in his life.

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Javi's babies: @pulplorrd

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#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fic #narcos #narcos netflix #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #rushingly bittersweet tag

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likesrandomstuff · 3 years

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Avalance Fic Recommendations Part 4

The final part of this series. Thanks to everyone who reblogged and liked, and a huge shout-out to @heywhereisperry who encouraged and motivated me into doing this.

As I said in Part 1, feel free to add any more stories you think should be recognised to any of these posts, and my ask box is open if you would like more detail on anything.

Part 1: Bite Sized

Part 2: Snacks

Part 3: Meals

Banquets (Over 75,000 words)

When you do not have anything you need to do in the next couple of days

You're My Miracle by bihexualmess

My tags: Ava is FBI, Sara is a Private Investigator, Rip brings Sara on for a case

This just got updated the other week and ruined multiple nights of sleep for me. At almost 350k words, still going, I don’t know how to explain without spoiling stuff that happens a long way in. There are so many layers to both Ava and Sara here, and the trauma, and the issues, and the fact they will not talk to each other about anything. I jumped on this a bit late, as the title and description didn’t grab me, but oh boy, I was missing out. I did get to read a heap of it in one go, but that doesn’t help the slow burn. I would start this even though it’s still a WIP, just because it will take you a while, to read, and also the storylines need time to settle in, because they are heavy, but just amazing. It is now the longest Avalance fic with the latest update.

this is the way that we love (like it's forever) by CoffeeAndArrows, moonlitprincess

My tags: College Avalance dated and broke up, five years later they meet again, Ava’s dating someone else

This fic had me crying in the lunchroom during my second week of work because I couldn’t not read during my lunch break, and it was hitting me so hard. That was after starting it at 10pm, reading to 2am, sleeping until 6am, reading until 11am a couple of days before. Warning for major character deaths; the funeral for one is alluded to in the description. If anyone says something bad about Jordan, I will not be happy; one of the best original characters I have ever read in a fic. Sara’s not in a great place initially, but she gets there. And there’s some cute flashbacks to college Legends too.

you make me smile (please stay for a while now) by CoffeeAndArrows, moonlitprincess

My tags: High School Rivals AU, Ava’s class president, Sara is the superstar soccer captain, they have more in common than they thought

I just looked at the word count for this, and it must be the first time I have, because wow! It is a journey! There’s a couple of prequel, sequel and interjection stories in this universe too. Ava has to deal with her family not being super supportive when she comes out. Sara has to deal with Laurel struggling and their mum having a clear favourite (Laurel). Most of the Legends have really great arcs in here as well. Ava’s family is great. I wanna hang out with her little sister. Don’t be like 2018 me who gives up after the first chapter because they are mad about what Laurel is going through. She’s fine, and there’s a heap of great Sara and Laurel moments. I recently re-read the last 10 chapters, and I still couldn’t stop myself from reading like it was the first time.

i am who you used to love (and you are just a memory) by justpalsbeingals

My tags: The Vow AU, but Ava makes some better choices early on, they’re married, Ava gets into an accident and loses all memory of Sara

I hate the movie this fic is based on. The movie’s fine, and it was a delight seeing Tatiana Maslany in it while I was watching Orphan Black, but basically it is my worst-case scenario, losing my memory. The fact that this fic kept me hooked despite that, is a testament to the quality. The fic itself says “light angst”, I say it’s much, much heavier than that, but that’s just me. Warning, there are some intense twists in here, and everyone is a bit OOC to me, memory loss being considered, which might not be your thing.

and i will stumble and fall (i'm still learning to love) by lucylikestowrite

My tags: SwanQueen kid fic AU, yes, I know go with me on this, Ava adopted Sara’s unexpected baby, said kid finds Sara years later

In general, as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t like kid fics. Fics with future children coming back to meet their parents, or the couple going into the future? Some of my favourites ever. This has no time travel, but I trust Lucy. This story is under 75k, but the sequel is almost as long, so combined they’re over. The sequel is a WIP. I didn’t watch Once Upon a Time, but it’s the plot of the start of that, except the gay actually happens. There are a lot of issues our girls have to work through here, but the kid is so cute.

and we could try by plinys

My tags: it’s a story mostly told on twitter through fake screen shots of social media, Sara drunk messages Ava, Ava doesn’t block her

I’m sure this format of storytelling is not for everyone, and that’s okay! I was so confused by it at first. I would recommend starting with the shorter one, I can be your hero (in Part 2), just to see if you like it, before jumping into this. I read this when the epilogue, the fic, was released, and I was up until 5am because I couldn’t stop. It became part of my personality. Story wise, Sara and Ava are on different coasts, but both know Nate, Ray and Nora. Ray and Nora get engaged, and Avalance have to deal with planning that wedding, and whatever is going on with them.

take my hands now by plinys

My tags: Another Social Media twitter AU, Sara is The Canary, Ava is trying to arrest vigilantes, Nate accidently gives Ava Sara’s number

Another brilliant twitter story. Some of our gang is trying to arrest the other half. Sara knows who Ava is, Ava doesn’t know that Sara is the person she’s chasing. Everyone has public twitter accounts. Sara actually gets [spoiler villain] to stop an attack by sending them money for a drink.

your eyes, they shine so bright by plinys

My tags: Social Media AU, everyone works for not Buzzfeed, a colab series is pitched, Sara and Ava’s teams have to work together

Ava makes factual videos, Sara does not, they are forced to work together. Nate is everyone’s boss technically, but they do what they want. Nate and Ava are non-biological siblings, and Satan Camp is a running gag. Oh, fake dating is in there too!

right to the top, don't hold back by SJAandDWfan

My tags: American Ninja Warrior AU, Sara’s a veteran and the Legends train together, Ava’s a rookie, rivals to training partners to friends to …

I re-read this every year when the new Australian season comes out. It’s so burned into my brain that when I was watching the speed climbing at the Olympics I genuinely thought “I wonder how Amaya would go in this?”. Amaya’s pre-Ninja experience is rock climbing in this fic. I learnt so much about Ninja Warrior and how the show (at least in this universe) works, and it’s fascinating. Would recommend watching some clips if you’re unfamiliar with the concept. The story goes pretty in detail about the courses. For recommendations, either Jessie Gaff, who was a S1 Supergirl stuntwoman, or Australia’s own Olivia Vivian, who is just stages better than our next female.

biding our time (until tomorrow) by TheTruthAboutLove

My tags: Period setting AU, Ava’s too noble for her own good, Oliver’s dad is the villain

This was a really cool experiment. Basically, told in lots of mini chapters like a soap opera. I do not know much about this period of American history, but it did not matter. A lot of different Arrow-verse peeps show up along the way. I’m sure I complained out loud “you’re allowed to want things Ava!” at some point. There’s an attempt for fake dating, and it’s not the homophobia but the second daughter problem that gets them.

Click here to see all the parts

#Avalance fic rec #Avalance #Sara Lance #Ava Sharpe #fanfiction

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jessiebanethedragon · 3 years

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White Sands Warm the Cold Sea

Star Wars, The Bad Batch Pirate!au (Hunter x Reader

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and bothered are asses.

chapter one Chapter Two

Chapter Three: The Pirate

Hondo Ohnaka is a very simple man. What doesn’t make him money doesn’t belong in his life and anything other than that does not concern him, nor does it take up much of his time. And while some of his business ventures have earned him a less than savoury reputation the Lords of Coruscant still knew he was the only pirate tolerable to do trade with. Provided you could put up with the boisterous personality for a measurable length of time.

And so when the household had woken to your missing presence and your father had finished retching in the privy, (from shock or his nights endeavours no one could be sure) Volim Nython had already sent word to have Hondo Ohnaka found. At first, he’d laughed.

“My friend, my friend, I am a pirate! Not a bounty hunter, if you want the lass found you’re going to need to stoop lower than folks like me!”

“My own personal guard will be in charge of finding her. What I want is for you to scuttle away to whatever backwater hole you crawled out of and send a message.” The Lord had said ever so calmly.

“So send a letter!” Hondo exclaimed before frowning when his feet were not so calmly pushed from their resting spot upon the table.

“Will you do it or not?” your father asked, rubbing his temples.

“Of course!” He laughed, “for the right amount of credits.”

And thus he found himself tracking down any and all associates of his that participated in smuggling, transportation or escapes of any kind.

“Hunter!” He calls to the sergeant with open arms, pointedly ignoring the cold exterior he is greeted with. It had been a chore to even get the man to allow him to board the Havoc Marauder, let alone agree to talk with him. But standing on the deck of the ship, in the middle of the day, he can see the disdain on the ex-GAR soldier’s face.

“It’s been far too long! Last I saw you boys, you were on a campaign on geonosis and short far too many weapons.” He recalls happily.

“What do you want Hondo.” Hunter demands, and for the first time in a long time the pirate falters, the man in front of him is very different from the one in his memory. It would appear the war had killed the loving, kind hearted sergeant after all.

“Message from Coruscant.” Hondo says eyeing Hunter suspiciously. “A womans gone missing.”

“What's it to us?” He asks, placing his hand on the hilt of his trusty sword.

“Tis the bride of one Volim Nython.” The ship is silent save for the crashing of waves against the hull.

“What’s that got to do with me and my crew? We aren’t bodies for hire anymore.” Hunter seethes.

“Worry not my friend, Nython has his personal guard scouring every surface as we speak. His highness wishes only to convey a message.” Hondo says with a flourish. “Any person found to be harbouring or holding said bride, will be hanged for conspiracies to treason against the Empire. Should the person or persons involved bring forward either the living bride or sufficiently identified body of the aforementioned woman a lesser penalty will be considered at the lord's discretion.”

The group of clones bristle, they’ve been at the mercy of the Lord's discretion before, and dread to think what will happen to the poor bastard should they bring the woman in.

“I still don’t see how this concerns us.” Hunter says, unimpressed.

“Well, i figured something like this would be right up your alley-”

“We are not bounty hunters.” He interrupts.

“I mean hiding the poor lass,” Hondo corrects with a frown, always so touchy these clones. “If you happen to find yourselves in the business of sanctuary I would not recommend you find yourself in that business for long.” He pauses and looks at Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair before leaning in and lowering his voice.

“They’ve already killed half of the household.” He tells the captain with a solemn voice. And for a moment, Hunter is not on the deck of the Havoc Marauder, and the sound of waves becomes the wind whistling around artillery cannon fire.

He pushed himself and the young Wookie child further into the mud, Kashyyyk had become one big trench in dirty, bloody warfare. The child calls out in fear and Hunter closes his eyes, the barrage never ended, it never ceased, not for a moment. He would be buried in the flying rocks and dirt. Heart pounding and breaths that never seemed to catch up. It feels like years later when a batch of shinies pry his taut muscles from the ledge of ground he found solace in.

“Kriffing hells, he did it. He actually did it.” one of them murmurs as various start relaying the news and one shiny pulls the kid out of his grasp.

“It’s alright sergeant, you’re alright.”

“My Vode…” he croaks.

“Force 99 is all accounted for, waiting for you at the base.”

“And the others, the jetii -”

“General is in bacta, the legion, the survivors have been taken back to Coruscant for shore leave.”

“How many?”

“You know better than to ask those kinds of questions, sergeant…”

“How many.”

“47 total, some injured some… less injured.”

Forty seven out of ten thousand, a whole legion reduced to forty seven clones.

Hunter rips off his bucket as he reteches.

“We don’t know anything about the girl. Nython’s issues are something we tend to steer clear from.” Hunter says pushing a firm finger into his temple where the sun seems to be burning a hole.

“Well!” Hondo says, clapping his hands together, “i’d considered the message delivered and received, my work here is done!” Hunter turns his back to the pirate.

“Say why don’t we celebrate over some Spotchka!”

“Get off my ship Hondo.” Hunter says over his shoulder. Before retreating once more to the captain's quarters.

It is far too soon that there is a knock on the door. And it is just when the headache starts to clear and he can bear standing again that Hunter hears it.

“What is it?” He grunts out, placing his hat back atop his head. And he sees crosshair push the door open, allowing Tech to walk in before him. Hunter already knows this’ll be bad news, anytime the two of them conspired together and failed to include their noisey older brother, it usually resulted in some disastrous sneaking plan.

“Sarge…” tech starts, pushing the goggles over his head. “You don’t think…” Hunter raises his eyebrows daring him to continue.

“The woman.” Crosshair cuts in. moving a toothpick around. “Well, what are the chances this woman…”

“Has she been found?”

“No.” Tech responds before adding “not yet.” Watching as the captain of the ship stands and looks out the thick glass, following the viscous waves crash together at the back of the vessel.

“I guess i’ll have to do it myself then.”

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

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Something that can never be.

Summary: a request for number 12 and 15 from the prompt list but I couldn’t figure out a way to put both in so I just did, no. 12 “How was I such an idiot, to believe that you of all people could ever love me?” Din is a body guard of a princess who has been under his care on the Razor Crest while her father fights a war. After a few months the war is over and she must go home.

Warning/Content: heart break, body guard din and princess reader.

Paring: Din Djarin x female reader

Tag list here || Master list.

“I’m sorry.” The tone is particularly soft, velvet smooth as he speaks, eyes big and pleading but hidden in the confines of the helmet. Guilt creeping shoulders forward and makes his stomach churn, the weight of his presence pressed into the back of her chair with a heavy hand.

It’s been hours since their little screaming match and she made little effort to move from the co-pilot’s chair. At first Din acted like he didn’t care, that it wasn’t his problem but the heaviness of his words made it hard to think of anything else. “I didn’t mean to upset you..I’m sorry. I’m just tired and should have handled the situation differently.”

He receives silence but watches the way her teeth clenches under the force of her jaw, bitting the skin of her cheek. The Mandalorian’s heart pounds as sadness rolls over his bends his neck further so the helmet touched the back of the chair with a deep sigh.

This was new, the silence and the fighting. It seems silly now, he just wanted some alone time. Time to pull of the helmet and sleep since he’s been away on a mission for two weeks, running on 7 hours max. He doesn’t mind the closeness and excited buzz she greets him with, actually loves knowing someone other the kid was waiting for him to come back but the moment he walked into the ship, a cold feeling of irritation made his mood sour.

He could leave it alone, return to his bunk because maker knows his limbs burn for sleep, vision blurry due to hooded eyes. He rounds the chair, not caring as he sits directly in front of her, between her legs on the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m tired, I’ve barely slept 10 hours the last two weeks.” Not to mention the fact that he received news of returning his one and only love home today.

That was clear in the way he boarded the Crest, not even a hello but a small pat on the child’s head before pushing past the threshold of the cargo space empty handed. It was a simple question but one that filled his chest with searing heat, he’s been gone for weeks with nothing to show and why? Because he was too busy thinking about the way her lips twitch into a smile, the small dimples hollowing at her cheeks.

“How was I such an idiot, to believe that you of all people could ever love me?” He’s thankful the silence is broken but she refuses to meet his eyes, the promise of tears crushing his chest with doubt, the words searing his skin, it burns and seeps into his chest with a wave of fire that stings with each breath.

“I am sorry.” He can’t admit the words as smooth gloves finding the surface of her knee but that’s not what surprised her. It’s the fact he used his thumb to rub soft circular motions into the boney promiance, showing the sincerity of his words. He wants to say it but putting it out in the universe will only make it harder to say goodbye.

“what are you sorry about? The fact that I’m in love with you or you don’t feel the same way back?”

The words make him pause, fingers stiffening against the skin.

This was new… The Mandalorian barely even speaks, let’s alone purposely touches someone, especially in such a comforting away. The gesture takes every ounce of her breath away, as his tired muscles ache to tilt his chin towards her, he has to choose his words wisely.

“You are a princess, you do not belong here with me. You have to go home..” The sound her own heart ticks her ears, watching the helmet drop low in defeat, the cool surface of the beskar against her inner thigh as he lets out a shaky breath, begging in silence for forgiveness.

But his next words make it impossible to move, wanting nothing more then to have him closer. “What I want does not matter, the fact that I want you in my bed every night and kiss you every waking minute of the day doesn’t not matter.”

“You have to go home.” He repeats, as if it’s to remind himself more than anyone. To fight the urge to rip the helmet off and spend forever with the girl who slipped through the stretches on his beskar to his cold, untouched heart. “I can’t give you a good life, you will never be safe. Your father hired me to keep you safe.. the war is over now, you have to go home.”

“I don’t want to! I don’t care about having a good life. You know me better then anyone, I don’t need money, jewels or dresses, I want you.” The Mandalorian feels his eyes drop, too defeated to argue but also torn between erasing the ache of pain that plagues his own heart and the sight of tears on her cheeks.

“Listen to me..” A hand gently grips her jaw, eyes meeting the dark silhouette of the visor, they are not visible but just as sad as her own. “Don’t ever doubt that you are one of the most important people in the universe to me, I would tear it apart to find you, kill every single person myself until you are safe but.. this can never be, sweet girl. I have to let you go.. no matter how much I love you.

He pauses, tone gravel and filled with sadness, holding back his own tears. "You have my heart.” There is no reason to lie as his other hand cups the back of her hair, playing with the strings of hair with hopes of easing some pain away. “But I am bringing you home.. to live a good life, marry a good man because I love you, I will not be the reason you regret your life.”

“Din, please, please don’t bring me back.” It’s hard to look away from her quivering lip, to listen to every word that falls from those perfect lips but he fights the urge to give in, tasting his own salty tears against his tongue. She is desperate, latching onto his wrist as he tries to back away, begging silently with big eyes.

“I have too.” With that the Mandalorian lets go, leaving a cold shiver behind as he exits the cockpit. His hands shake as he defends the ladder, boots hitting the hull with a loud thump as he makes a b-line for the refresher and closing it behind him.

The helmet is already off, thrown across the small room in a fit of internal rage. His hand instinctively comes up to his chest to rub away the sting of his heart breaking.

This is for the best. He has to tell himself, over and over again until the Crest beeps as a reminder they are close.

Tags:

forever tags: @victias, @altarsw , @nikkixostan , @moonlightnumbsthepainifeel, @est19xxshit , @owloveyounever , @engie115@dinsbeskar, @akatasukilove , @nerdalert-andi , @mailee420 , @you-and-i-deserve-the-world, @thatonedindjarinfan, @Sporadicshoebailifffish, @coldlilheart, @starsvck, @agirlinherhead, @lokismidnight, @expellopatronum, @dinschutta , @queenbbarnes, @ironbabey, @i-ship-it-ironically, @coonflix, @ilikemymendarkandfictional, @maileecabudal, @buckysalefty, @fangirlmendes, @godohammers, @mermaidbrina, @capsheadquaters, @kaermorons, @carlygrayson , @naturalswifty89 @spideysimpossiblegirl @Curiouskeyboard, @idjitdestiel, @tossacoin2yourwitcher

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin #the mandolorian season 2 #the mandalorian imagine #the Mandalorian x reader #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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laurie-stark · 3 years

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Get up and get out

Summary: Sort of part two to Unwanted. A year after fighting in Germany, y/n has to deal with the insufferable Peter Parker being around the house all the time.

Pairings: Peter Parker x stark!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader, Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader.

Warnings: swearing, angst? i guess? mentions of blood. mentions of panic nightmares

A/N: Again, I want to make it very clear so there isn’t any confusion: Y/n is Tony’s biological child, however, being raised also by Natasha, Steve and Pepper, she calls them Muma, Pops and Mom. Hopefully that makes sense LOL oh and also i’ve never written like...kiss scenes before so just go with it okay?

He was here again. Third time this week that he has come barging into my home and taken over my training center. Okay, to be fair, it was not my training center but still. Peter Parker will never stop being a pain in my ass. Ever since that stupid trip to Germany, he has been coming over and training for hours, or working with Dad. Three times just this week I’ve had to endure listening to Peter talk with his stupid little voice and walk around my house like he owns the place. Who does he think he is? And every time I have to sit through another dinner of Dad blabbing on and on about what a miraculous boy he is.

“Really y/n, I think you two would be great friends,” I rolled my eyes as I picked at my dinner. The rest of the family ate in silence around the table. The last thing I wanted to do is spend more time with stupid Spider-boy. On the afternoons when he was here, I tried my best to stay out of his way. I would stay on my floor and he stays on his. Simple. I don’t need a new friend.

“…And he’s coming by again tomorrow, so I was thinking of showing him A.P.R.I.L. if you wanted to join us-” Dad continued.

What the hell? I thought. “No!” I snapped. “No way. A.P.R.I.L. is mine, I don’t want him messing with her.” Dad frowned at me. The rest of the table looked up in my direction. My shoulders tensed up as I faced my father. A.P.R.I.L. is my baby and I was ready to go toe to toe with him if I needed too.

“What do you mean no? I thought you’d be excited to share that with him,” he started.

“Well I’m not, so back off,” I sneered. The shift in his expression made me want to bite my own tongue. “Please.”

“I seriously do not understand what your problem is. You’ve been complaining for years how there’s only adults but the second a kid your age comes by you’re all “oooh no don’t talk to me Peter!””

I scoffed. “Sorry, I guess I just don’t want to bother you and your new best friend.”

“There it is. Why are you so jealous of him? He’s not that cool. He hasn’t made a fully functioning A.I at the age of 15. He just spits sticky stuff out of his fingers. Honestly y/n, you’re making zero sense right now.”

“Whatever, I’m over this,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. I grabbed my untouched dinner plate and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m not hungry. And don’t show him A.P.R.I.L., I mean it!” I dumped my plate in the sink and marched right down the hall towards the elevators. My dad was right. I wasn’t making any sense. Ever since I made A.P.R.I.L I’ve used every excuse I could find to shove her down people’s throats. Anyone who would listen to me, I would tell them. Tell them all about how I programmed her to have realistic personality. How she’s running through the walls of this place, through my room, even inside the bracelet I never take off. All I knew is that I didn’t want Peter Parker anywhere near her.

I shut the door to my hard, and flopped onto my bed. A.P.R.I.L. reminded me that slamming the doors usually results in a punishment. I acknowledged her with a half-hearted grunt. I started programming A.P.R.I.L. when I was thirteen. Or rather, reprogrammed. A.P.R.I.L. was made from an older prototype version of F.R.I.D.A.Y. The base stuff was already there, I just moved some things here, recoded there until she was perfect. I don’t know why I got so defensive about Peter meeting her. Or why I had to pick another fight with my dad.

It was easier these days. To fight him, I mean. I suppose I never got over the whole “Peter is better, I choose him over you, blah, blah” thing as much as I thought I did. So, I would pick fights. Fighting over Peter was the simplest way to go, considering he was the reason I was so angry in the first place. Sometimes we would fight over him, other times we would fight over silly things. Like how I keep forgetting not to put my coffee grounds in the garbage disposal. Most of the time it was all just bickering that would blow over in thirty minutes, give or take. Sometimes it was explosive, like today. I took in a shaky breath and sprawled out across my sheets. Sometimes this family is a fucking nightmare.

Dad didn’t come by this time. It threw me off for a second because he always comes by. Even if it’s six hours later and neither of us should be awake, he still comes by with a box of milk duds that we share in silence before one of us apologizes first. That’s how we work. When it finally sunk in that he was not planning on coming, I put A.P.R.I.L. on the job. I figured perhaps he left the compound, maybe took Mom for a nighttime stroll.

“Your father is on floor B, Miss Stark,” A.P.R.I.L. informed me.

“Jesus A.P.R.I.L., how many times have I said to cut the formalities,” I muttered.

“My apologies, y/n.”

Floor B. What the hell is he doing on floor B at…12:00 in the morning? Floor B is strictly for members of household and other Avengers. There are a billion different training rooms down there. Weight rooms, boxing, a huge pool, stuff like that. Not to taint his image, but I can safely say the last time my father willingly worked out for fun was probably before I was even born. Why was he down there? Unless…

“A.P.R.I.L. who else is on floor B right now?” I asked. “Throw it on the hologram, would you dear?

The sounds of the hologram starting filled the room. A.P.R.I.L. pulled up the security map of floor B, like I’d asked. There was my dad, floor B in the boxing room of all places. Pops and Sam looked to be going at it in another one of the combat training rooms. My confusion only rose when another nametag popped up on the screen. My brows furrowed.

Peter Parker

What was he doing here? Why was he boxing? Why was he not in his own home at midnight on a Thursday? My mind was spinning with questions. A knock at my door startled me.

“Come in…”

Natasha popped her head through the doorway. “Hey there…whatcha doing kid?”

I swiftly swiped away the hologram screen and sat up straight. “Nothing. What’s up?”

“Well, we’re getting a little worried about you,” she said. We being everyone else at the table who had to witness my brawl with Dad. She sat down beside me. “You haven’t fought back like that in a long time and I’ve noticed you’re fighting with him a lot recently. You want to tell me what that’s all about?”

I wanted too. God, I wanted too. I hadn’t told anyone what my father said to me that day after the airport, not even my mom. But it didn’t matter. I’d get over it sooner or later, so there was no point troubling anyone else with my problems…right? My eyes started to well up but I blinked away the tears. “No. Everything’s fine,” I put on a smile.

Natasha tucked me in under her arm. “Okay then. Maybe tomorrow.” That was Muma for you. She never pushed me to talk but knew I would come around at some point. In the meantime, she just held me. I cried into her embrace. She let me cry into her shoulder for a long while, until I was empty. After a time, I let go and she got up, giving me a kiss on the head before wishing me a good night.

I rubbed my hands over my face, brushing off any remaining tears. “A.P.R.I.L. bring the hologram back up please.”

“Are you sure y/n?”

…

“Yeah.”

Peter was still in the boxing room but my father was not. Upon further digging, I found the nametag reading Tony Stark on my floor. He’d gone to bed. I pondered to myself as to whether or not I should venture downstairs. What is the worst thing that could happen? Peter is secretly a Hydra spy and kills me? No, I shook my head. Don’t be ridiculous. Another minute passed and I’d made up my mind.

“A.P.R.I.L. engage “I am definitely here”,” I commanded.

“”I am definitely here” protocol engaged. Volume minimized to 5% and your tracking tag will be pinned to this room,” A.P.R.I.L. responded. “Good luck on your mission small agent.”

“Oh shut up,” I chided. I closed the door to my room as softly as I could. It was nearly one in the morning, most of the hall would be asleep. Or at least they should be. The hallway was silent, except for the soft noise of my socks padding along the floor. I cursed myself for looking so ridiculous. If anyone caught me, I could easily say that I was just getting a midnight snack. Not sneaking down to spy on Spider-bitch. Boy. Whatever. Sneaking added to the excitement.

I made it downstairs all in one piece. Steve and Sam nearly passed me in one of the halls, but I had ducked into a briefing room. I could totally be a spy. Maybe I’m a Hydra spy. I thought. And they sent me here as a baby to take down the Avengers from the inside. What was I going on about? This was why I should really be in bed, I was clearly delirious. Once again, distracting myself in my thoughts led to me getting startled. I hadn’t even realized I was outside the boxing room. I would have walked right in if not for the handy wall that I smacked into.

Peter was in the ring, practicing his punches. He’d lowered down one of the punching bags from the ceiling and it was close to ripping at the seams. He was really going ham on it. The questions piled on. So, he came over to my house at midnight to…train? Something he had all afternoon today to do? God, he was weird. I suppose I didn’t quite know what I was going to get myself into when I finally walked in to confront him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, arms folded tightly across my chest.

Peter started and looked down at me. Sweat was dripping down his face. He looked exhausted. “Training,” he said bluntly. He returned to treating the punching bag like it had run over his dog.

“At one in the morning? And after you spent like six hours today doing just that?” I was not letting him off that easy. Peter ignored me and continued punching. “Your form is shit.” I mocked.

That made him stop. “Funny coming from the girl who never leaves her room. When have you ever trained? Like ever?”

“I still beat your ass.”

“Yeah like, a year ago when I was barely an avenger.”

I rolled my eyes. “You still aren’t.”

“What do you want?” Peter spat.

I shrugged. “Dunno.” I stared him down with a smug look on my face.

“You are always such a bitch, you know that?”

I faked a pout. “Aw…bite me.”

Peter was chewing the inside of his cheek in anger. “If you’re going to stay here and pester me, you might as well get a few punches in.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Consider it a rematch.”

I studied his physique for a moment. He’d grown a lot since Germany. He’d also trained a lot since then as well. I had done little of either. I knew that entering that ring would probably end up with me losing my dignity and maybe even a tooth. But I was not going to let him stand there with his stupid, sweaty face and get away with it. This is not a good idea, I thought as I took off my socks. I moved the ropes and stepped into the ring, standing a foot in front of the boy.

“I’ll still win.”

“No powers either.”

“Deal.” Not like I’ve touched my powers since…since the incident.

Peter took his stance and I did my best to mirror him. I realized in that moment that I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know the first thing about boxing. Or sparring. I didn’t know how to fight without my powers. Oh, sweet Jesus.

We kept our distance at first, fists up. He threw a few punches and missed. I followed in suit. I finally got the first hit, a nice throw to his chest. He took it like a champ and didn’t flinch. Or rather, I couldn’t hit for shit and it didn’t hurt. He threw a punch to my left, only to miss on purpose and punched me square across my jaw. Ow. I chuckled lowly. The taste of blood filled my mouth from the fresh cut on my lip. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. All I could see was white rage.

Forget form, forget rules, forget everything. I lunged at him with everything I had. Lunged at him for all the bullshit he had brought into my life. For all the bitter things I had to hear my father say that weren’t even Peter’s fault. He was clearly not expecting my attack because we both fell to the ground. We fought tirelessly on the mat. He was physically stronger than me, so by default he was winning. He wrestled me until I was pinned under him. One hand was pinning my hand above my head, the other arm pinning down my body. In any other circumstances I would be amused to find myself in such a scandal. I looked in his eyes briefly and I could already tell he thought that he was winning. If there’s one thing I learned from Nat, it’s to always step on their moment. I hooked my leg around his knee and used all my force to flip us over. I had him pinned down now, my hair falling around my face. We were both breathing heavily.

“Told you,” I taunted. I was mentally preparing him to punch back but he didn’t. He snapped his arms out from under me and shoved me off him, hard. I fell back against the mat. He rose to his feet, brushing his hands off on his pants. “What the hell?” I exclaimed. I jumped to my feet while his back was turned to me and gave him a taste of his own medicine. He stumbled a few steps after I pushed him. Slowly, he stretched back up to reach his full height.

“You’re right,” he turned to face me and extended a hand. “Shake on the truce?” I took his hand, accepting his surrender. Only, he was not really surrendering. The moment my hand touched his, he yanked me towards him. I tripped over my feet and fell into him. My chest crashed onto his. The world was a blur as he grabbed me with force and spun us around, so he could push me up against the ropes of the ring.

“Stop, Peter get off me you bitch!” I fought back. I flailed my whole body around, trying to break loose. One hand reached up to grab the back of my head, pulling my hair and forcing my head back. I froze. His face was dangerously close to my exposed neck. His shift let my opposite arm break free. I took a breathe and reeled it back, ready to smack him in the across the face. He caught my wrist in time without taking his eyes off mine.

He lowered his head to whisper in my ear, “I win.” His breathe trickled down my neck. He had won, but he wasn’t moving. One hand was still in my hair, the other was pinning me against the ropes. His chest breathed heavily against my own. His grip on my head loosened slightly and I was able to look him straight on. He had that same smug look pasted across his face. His eyes moved from mine, trailing down my face, my neck, my body, before they settled on my lips. I momentarily lost the ability to breathe.

He kissed me hard. I tensed up slightly before giving into him completely. It tasted like blood and sweat and I felt like I was losing my mind. He pulled me closer, if that was even possible and claimed my mouth with his until my knees gave out. A newfound wave of warm washed through me. The hand in my hair gave a slight tug and my lips parted while that same hand moved to cup my jaw. For all I knew, the entire compound was wide awake and watching but I did not care. I brought my fingers to his hair, tugging at the ends. I smiled cunningly when he groaned into my mouth. He kissed me greedily and fully. Like he hated me. And I hated him.

We broke apart, limbs numb and chests heaving. The moment had passed, and our actions sunk in. What. The. Fuck. He lifted the ropes for me, and I climbed out of the ring. My head was still spinning from that kiss and my lip stung. Consequences I suppose, for kissing someone with a busted lip. I silently pulled my socks back on and Peter handed me a towel. Neither of us said another word. I left the room and didn’t look back. I could hear him behind me, but I was in no rush to have to look him in the eye ever again. What just happened?

I woke the next morning to A.P.R.I.L. alerting me that “Father Dearest” was outside my door. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. We both stayed quiet for a while.

I spoke first. “Where were you last night? You didn’t come by after…” I let my words trail off.

“I was going to, I swear. But then something came up with Peter and I had to go take care of that,” Dad answered.

I frowned. “Typical. Peter over your own flesh and blood, right?”

Dad inhaled sharply like he was going to bite back, but changed his mind. “That’s not true and you know it. Peter is…he’s going through something and I knew how to help him. Not everything is about you, you narcissist,” He said, joking at the end.

I had to push down my own smile. “Yeah well where do you think I got it from?” I sat up and leaned into my father. He brushed a hand down my back. “So, what’s wrong with Peter then?”

“I really shouldn’t tell you, it’s personal.” I looked up at him with my doe eyes. He rolled his eyes and sighed, nodding a silent defeat. I felt like I was nine again and he was gossiping with me about the latest secretary. Like every fight had been forgotten in this moment. “He’s been having some nightmares ever since DC. You remember the ones we used to get after Loki?” I nodded. “Now you, you always amazed me at how you handled those. But for me and Peter, we needed a different outlet. So, I let him come over in the middle of the night. I didn’t think anyone would notice.” I hummed in response, not sure what to make of that information. I mean, I kind of felt bad for the guy. He was still a bitch, but those dreams suck. No one should have to deal with them. “He really isn’t as bad as you think, you know.”

“Yeah,” I hummed. “I think you’re right.”

tag list:

@runawayolives @ creation-magician @ eridanuswave @ markhyucksmells @ beep-beep-losersclub

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livvynka · 3 years

Text

Can i get your vote? Kamilah x Amy x Priya AU

Warning: SMUT, death threatening, harsh sexual activities, Angst, Putting Kamilah in her place, bit of a fluff?

I’m not native english speaker, feel free to correct me (i would be actually glad).

NOTE: Story is before Kamilah and Amy fall in love, when Amy tries get Priya's vote, so Lily can join Adrian's clan. Uff, this takes a lot from me. :D

Pairing: Kamilah x Amy x Priya

About 2430+- words.

Tag list: @fal-carrington @samanthadalton @vonda-b-real @drmmyrs @straightlikewetspaghetti @blaine-hayes @lizielasyd @mrskamilahsayeed @millasayeed @ntoraplayschoices @ilove-kamilah-sayeed @kamilah-is-queen @rhonda-sayeed @queenkamilah @domakir @kwaj115 @fundamentalromantic @somethindarker @crimsonvrose @glowriter @leenasayeed

Amy has goosebumps just from the thought, she needs to visit and get to the good side of Priya's. She knows Priya is evil, and every good thing in her died a long time ago. But there is no way Kamilah or Adrian could break her so she does something nice for them. They are sitting in Adrian's office. Brainstorming plan how to get 4 votes, so Lily can live. Amy: "Alright, I pay her visit." Kamilah shoot stare to Adrian. Kamilah: "She's your pet. I don't care. But she gets all of you into this mess, so she needs to fix it." Adrian: "Kamilah be reasonable, she will not come back alive. You know Priya and her ´activities´..." Amy: "Kamilah is right. And there is no other way. She will send you to the hell in the moment you set your foot to her club."

Adrian: "No! We will find another way, I will not let anything to happen to you." Amy: "Maybe we will, but it will take a long time. And now, time is what we don't have. I already decide Adrian. And you cant change my mind. I'm going with or without your help." Kamilah: "Amy, she is going to break you. Don't underestimated her. Not every vampire is in control like us and our clans." Amy: "Now you care? You threaten to kill me, Kamilah! You can go back to your office, because you are not helping." Amy stands up and starts walking towards door. She stops with her hand on the handle. She takes a few deep breaths. Then she looks over her shoulder. Adrian put his head into his hands. He shakes his head and nod. Adrian: "We send someone, who will watch you from distance. If anything goes wrong, they help you." Kamilah straighten her back, clears her throat and began walk towards Amy.

Kamilah: "I'll escort you to her club. We need to talk privately." Adrian look between Amy and Kamilah with questions in his eyes. He feels there's great tension between them. He just don't know what kind of tension. It seems he wants to say something, but he just look to the opposit direction. Amy: "Great.. Yeah.... Thank you..." They got into her car. Kamilah drives Amy to the Paulus viewpoint. Kamilah exit the vehicle first, she opens doors for Amy and offers her hand. Amy decline and burst out of the car. Amy: "Why did you take me here? I need to meet with Priya! If you want to kill me, do it! Enough of your threats and shit talking about me all the time."

Kamilah: "You may be right, mortal. I don't care about you. But Adrian likes you. So listen to me, I will not repeat myself. I will help you out of this situation, who if I remember, you cause. But if this doesn't work out, and Adrian loses his life, because you put your con act and manipulate him to turn Lily. I'll kill you both without any hesitation." Amy is stressed out. Angry. Scared for her, Lily's and Adrian's life. This was the last button to push. She doesn't care if more than 2000 years old, strongest vampire on the earth, who can snap her neck in the velocity of light, stands before her. She slaps her hard and pushes her. Again, and again and again. She pinned Kamilah to the railing. Amy: "Ohh, really, Kamilah? Than do it, kill me! You are full of the bullshit! Drop this nonsense! You are hiding behind coldness, strength and rudeness. But we both know where is the truth! Deep inside, you are scared little girl, who is afraid of people leaving you, after they get to know real you! You are lonely and scream for the attention, affection and love! Deep inside, you want someone who will care about you, who will see the real you! Who will get you and stand by your side. So NO! I'm not afraid you. You care about people. Adrian may be the last being who likes you, and you know it. So you are losing your control, because he is the only hope for your humanity. Only thing which puts you in the line. The last thing to stops you from being monster. Be honest for second and show me some damn respect!" She catches Amy's hand when she wanted to push her again. Her jaw drops. She is right and they both now it. She stands there in shock.

Kamilah: "I-I..."

Amy: "That's what I though."

Amy free her hands from Kamilah's strong grasp and start walking towards the city. It's a few miles. This is going to be a long walk, but Amy doesn't care. She needs to clear her head. She feels connection towards Kamilah, but she is tired of her act and manipulation. Kamilah feel how tear slides down her cheek. Reality falls apart and she remembers how she sits alone in her pentahouse or office, trying to drink her mind off. She prohibited herself any kind of connection after what she done in past. After so much pain she causes.

After centuries someone sees through her like she was a plate of glass. She closes her eyes and tried gain her control back. After a while she enters her expensive car and follows Amy. It does not take long, she finds her walking angrily in abandonen path.

Kamilah: "I'm sorry Amy. Please get into the car, I'll drive you to the Priya's club. It's not safe in the night here."

Amy: "I'm fine. Just go away." Kamilah: "Don't be stuborn, you were right about everything. Let me take you to the Priya's club, now for real. I know I upset you, but it takes hours from here, by walking.

Amy sight and listen, she gets into the car and turn to the window with her hand fold above her stomach. She is looking at the night New York. Amy: "What can Priya do to me?"

Kamilah: "She is a real monster. She will promise you a lot of things. She makes you feel special for short quantity of time. In the second she gets enough of you or gets bored, she will probably kill you. Her games, no human can survive. People disapear or they found them dead." Amy: "At least she is attractive. I will have a nice view when she dries me suck and I will die for someone I care about." Kamilah narrow her eyes at the girl, sitting besides her. Kamilah: "We won't let that happened. You need to get out of there if she tries something. We still can get Baron's vote." Amy: "He is even worse. Priya wants to play games, but her ego destroys her once. What she doesn't know, I'm good at playing games."

Amy: "Kamilah, I'm sorry about what I said earlier."

Kamilah's brows quirk. She thinking about hers next words.

Kamilah: "Don't be. Perhaps it was bold to say those things, but you were right. Noone was brave enough to tell me before..." Kamilah drive Amy to the Priya's club and wish her luck. Amy didn't wait a long line and walk towards the bouncer. Amy: "Priya will accept me immediately." Bouncer: "Oh, are you her snack? Tell me your name, I check the list." Amy tells her name to the bouncer. He calls for his colleague and they escort Amy right to the Priyas V.I.P. room. Priya is wearing a black minidress, with gold stripes and a red high heel boots. A lace from the dress covering only a little bit of her skin, it's really tight dress. She talks with another vampires. Some of them Amy knows from the Council meeting. It takes only few second before Priya sensed Amy. She shoot glare directly to Amy. Priya: "Well, well, well. Look at who's decided do choose better company."

She kissed Amy at both cheeks and hugs her tightly. Priya may be a monster, but she is also very attractive. When Amy feels how close is Priya's body presses to hers, she gasps. Her heart skips a few heartbeats. Priya smirk and look at the girl before her with amusement.

Amy: "Hi Priya, I need to talk with you. Privately." Priya: "Ohh!" She clapped her hands together enthusiastically and murderous smile appear at her face. Amy rolled her eyes. Priya: "I love where is this coming. Follow me." They enter a private elevator what is connected directly to the Priya's apartment. When the door close Priya immediately catch Amy by her sides, other hand searching to find a way under Amy's shirt. She runs a nail along Amy's stomach harshly, and cut a line on her belly, blood appears immediately. Amy let out a moan. Priya kiss her with hunger. Amy pauses the kiss and walk a few steps away. Her heart is beating fast. Priya attract her, but she is also very dangerous. Amy is trying to cool down and put hand in the air between them, to make some space. Amy: "I'm here only to talk." Priya: "Don't lie, I hear your heart, it's like it explode any moment."

Amy: "Priya... I need your help with something, hear me out." They exit the elevator, and Priya pour them a glass of expensive red wine. They sit on the leather couch. Priya grab Amy by her thigh and pull her close. She is drawing a circles at her thigh. Priya: "Well?" Amy: "Someone of your kind attacks my friend..." Priya: "Of my kind?!" Amy: "Vampire... My friend, Lily... She was dying... So I ask Adrian to turn her. I got you envelope, he is calling a Council meeting. We need your vote." Priya: "HA! Adrian breaks rules for some human?"

Priya: "You get my vote under one condition. You stay with me and become my little kitten." Amy: "No way, I want to live at least for next 50 years, Priya. One night, no killing, no turning. No ripping parts of my body." Priya: "Oh, I will have so much fun! Alright then. After I do to you, you will have no thoughts of leaving." Amy: "I am going to regret this. Am I? I accept." Priya: "Very well." She kisses Amy and guides her to stand up from the sofa. Her hands sliding at Amy's arms. Making way to tangle their fingers while Priya dominate Amy's tongue. Priya: "Now, I want to hear your heart race, your moans fills the room. And I have a very good idea." Before Amy opens her mouth to say something, she is back in flash with sex harness. Its black leather metal restrains for neck and wrists. Amy let out a long sigh and look directly at Priya's eyes. Amy: "Seriously Priya?" Priya: "I'll enjoy this my little kitten." She doesn't waste any time and free Amy of her cloths. She is completely nude. Before she can protest Priya restrain her into the harness and with the swift move settle Amy into near chair. She spread her kneese and push her toward the edge of the luxury seat. She kissed her again, but not for long. She continues to Amy's neck and bite, she inserts two fingers inside Amy. Amy sees how colors spread before her eyes. The pain and pleasure made Amy arch her back a bit. Her breath quickens when suddenly she feel another finger thrust in. A moan escapes her lips. She tried to hold onto something, but the harness blocking her movement. She almost can't take it. Amy: "FUCK, PRIYA!" Priya continues in her murderous pace and drinking Amy's blood. Amy vision goes blur. She doesn't know if its from the pleasure or the blood lost. Amy: "You dry me suck Priya! STOP!" But Priya continues. She starts to fuck Amy again and moves to her shoulder. She bites her again and sucks her blood like it's the best food she ever has. She bites her side, drink a little bit, then stomach, and finally she sucks her vulva. Amy let out very loud moan and rock against Priya. When Amy's orgasm come to close Priya moves again, to her thigh. She drinks Amy's blood again. Amy yell by the pleasure Priya giving her and from the pain.

Amy: "Priya! I am close!" Priya: "Let go my beautiful kitten." Priya pump into Amy with vampire strenght and speed. She can't even breath properly. She arch her back, the harness slightly choke herself, her wrist miss oxygen, but she doesn't care. After few moments she crashed so hard. Amy: "PRIYA! FUCK! OHMYHOD!" Amy lost her consciousness, from blood lost and pleasure Priya gives her. Priya stands up and clean her face from Amy's juice.

Priya: "Ha! They will be pissed, especially Adrian and grandma. Th-."

In that moment doors flew open and Kamilah make her way to the Priya. Kamilah is standing her, her twin daggers holding close.

Kamilah: "What about we just kill you?"

Priya: "Wait! Just take her!"

Kamilah: "Smart choice, Lacroix."

Kamilah hide her daggers and undress her maroon blazer. She free Amy of the leather - metal harness and wrap Amy into blazer. She pick her up, holding her close, but carefully.

Kamilah: "You are not allowed to touch her again."

Priya: "Whatever, after this night, she comes back voluntarily."

Kamilah: "I expect ´aye´ from you, tomorrow. And even if she comes back by her choice, you will hand her over to us, immediately."

Without hearing answer, Kamilah exit the building.

Kamilah: "You got yourself into serious mess Amy."

Amy wakes up and nuzzles to Kamilah's neck.

Amy: "Kam?"

Kamilah: "Shh. You are safe and alive."

Amy: "I was imagining you whole time. While she was doing, what she was doing."

Amy falls alseep again. Kamilah stops for the moment and look at that small, fragile human. She don't know what she should think about this. But she decide to ignors it. She carefully put Amy at back seats and drive her to her pentahouse, where she clean Amy's wounds. She lay her onto her bed and with intention watch her till she wakes up, lay besides her. Amy lookes so calm. Soon she falls asleep to.

Amy wakes up in the morning. She is laying on top of Kamilahs chest. Kamilah is holding her close, only in underwear, Amy is only in Kamilah's blater. She tried to stand up, but Kamilah is holding her too strongly.

She nuzzle to her cheek with her nose, while stroking her silk hair between her fingers.

Amy: "Kamilah? Wake up"

Kamilah: "Hmm, no, you are not going anywhere."

Amy smile at the old vampire and lay at her chest again.

Amy: "Okay then"

They both continue sleep. And for once, both can sleep peacefully.

END.

#bloodbound fanfiction #choices bloodbound #bb #bb kamilah #bloodboundbook3 #priya lacroix #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #mc x kamilah #priya lacroix x mc

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