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healinghyunjin · 1 year

Text

Ice

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (fem)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut; mafia!AU, strangers-to-lovers, 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood; explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (seriously guys - don’t do what they do here, in terms of protection or consent), loss of virginity (graphic)

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’ve been gone for a really long time, I know - but I’m finally making my way back to this blog and to writing again. I have a few fics in the pipeline, but here’s my first new release! It’s a very different style/genre/length from what I’ve posted here before; it’s a bit darker in tone and less fluffy (all’s well that ends well though lol) - so feedback and thoughts are extra extra appreciated!

Summary: Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to.

It was only when those cold icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind.

Hwang Hyunjin.

You looked pathetic, you supposed.

Sitting painfully alone, ignored in the midst of this packed club, idly stirring a drink you hadn’t taken a sip of, hadn’t even wanted in the first place. Your so-called date had foisted it on you…before he realized that plying you with alcohol wasn’t going to affect his chances of getting any either way, and quickly left to try his luck elsewhere.

And it was just as well. You really weren’t cut out for this type of stuff. You’d never been, honestly - you’d gone to a few parties in college, gone on even fewer dates, and done nothing that ended up with you going home with someone. Your roommate had finally had enough though, and that’s how you’d ended up here.

“Go have some fun for once,” she’d said. “You need to lose that V-card before your tits start sagging, love.” And before you could even think of an adequately snippy response, she’d thrown a phone number at you - a friend of a friend of a friend, supposedly - and sashayed out of your room, hollering behind her that she’d be out all night, so you could bring anyone you wanted home with impunity.

You’d snorted, shaking your head. You? Bringing someone home? With your dating skills and general luck, you were probably gonna bring home a serial killer - if you even managed to hit it off with anyone in the first place.

Still, you’d let her squeeze you into a pretty pink bandage dress and ridiculously high heels and send you on your way...just for it to go exactly as you’d thought it would.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off your seat, attempting to wade your way back to the bar. You could do with a tall glass of water - and maybe something a little stronger, something that you actually liked - before retreating back to the sanctuary of your own four walls and soft bed.

Even in the hazy lighting of the club, punctuated only by disorienting strobes, it was obvious that there was something strange going at the bar. The sweaty, suffocating cluster of humans on the dance floor came to an abrupt end, with no one occupying the empty space right next to them. This section of the bar was jarringly, eerily empty, seats and counter all open - except for four men, lounging about like they owned the place.

You knew better - you really did. But still - you found yourself pushing closer and closer, straight to the outskirts of the crowd, until you could get a clear view. Three of them were turned away from you, leaving you nothing to see other than broad shoulders and backs, straining against tight leather jackets. As for the fourth, however…

The first thing to catch your eye, unique and beautiful, even in the dim lighting, was a gorgeous black and blue tattoo, winding its way around the neck of its equally striking owner. Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to.

It was only when those cold, icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind.

Hwang Hyunjin.

You knew you should probably stop. Men like that hurt people for just glancing at them the wrong way - and here you were, having a staring match with the most ruthless of them all.

And that’s how you found yourself in the alley behind the club, pinned against the rough brick wall - with Hyunjin pressed between your legs. He was everywhere - his lips ravishing yours with hot, predatory kisses; one hand hungrily palming your breasts, the other hiking up your dress, trailing along your sodden panties. He moaned a curse against your lips as he felt just how wet you were for him.

“You’re ruining me,” he groaned, hand hastily dragging away from your chest to wind around your waist, pulling your lower half against his firmly. “Tell me what you want, angel,” he murmured before breaking off into a hiss, clutching at you as your hips bucked against his.

“More,” you moaned. Your untouched, unexperienced self was overwhelmed by this man. You were stone-cold sober, your drink abandoned untouched back at the bar, but you were positively high off him, addicted to the way he was making you feel. “Whatever you want to do to me - just more.”

He laughed, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the side of your head. “You’re gonna regret that.” And he immediately made to deliver on his promise. You gasped as he flicked the embarrassingly large wet spot marring your panties, nail dragging tortuously against your clit, before drawing aside the gusset, running his fingers through your wet folds.

You couldn’t help but whimper. “Please.”

“Begging now, huh?” He barked out a laugh, but seemed ready to comply. As he dove in for a messy, passionate, soul-consuming kiss, long fingers of one hand still working your clit, you faintly heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle, the rustle of his clothing, the small sigh of relief he let out against your lips as he freed his cock from its confines.

“Last chance, angel,” he groaned out, head falling back in pleasure as his hard, hot length slid against your folds. “I’m not gonna hold back after this.”

“I still want it - want you,” you whispered back. “I can take it.”

Those plush lips curved into a wicked, almost malicious smirk. “Good.” And with no further ado, he slammed himself home deep in your cunt.

A soft cry of pain escaped your lips. It stung - but within a second, past the initial resistance, the pain had ebbed away, replaced by a curious pressure, a blossoming sensation of fullness unlike anything you’d felt before.

Hyunjin, however, froze.

You knew he’d probably felt that thin tissue - your so-called “innocence” - give way. With ominous slowness, he slid his fingers to the place where you were connected and lifted them up to the light. In the harsh gleam of the streetlights above, the faint traces of blood - your blood - marring his pale skin was obvious.

And when he looked at you again, those ice blue eyes were mask-like, unreadable once again.

“You know who I am, don’t you, sweetheart?” The endearment sounded like a curse in his mouth; his tone - stiff, chillingly empty - sending a small shiver down your spine. All you could do was nod, silently.

“Then you must be out of your fucking mind,” he hissed, fingers biting painfully into the meat of your hip, body still pressed heavily into yours. “The hell are you doing giving someone like me something this precious?”

“It’s…it’s not though?”

Hyunjin raised a challenging eyebrow at you.

“I mean…yes, I’ve never been with anyone before, but why does it matter?” Your words came out in a gasp, almost jumbled - mind and body craving what had been so abruptly interrupted, the pull strong enough for you to blurt out your true feelings…all of them. “I want you, Hyunjin - I want you, and I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now.”

The iciness of Hyunjin’s gaze wavered, melted just a smidge. His death grip on your hip morphed into a heavy, possessive pressure; his thumb started rubbing circles into that sensitive crease separating your thigh from your waist. “Why?”

You could barely string the words together at this point - but you knew they had to be said. “I…I was alone, you were surrounded by your boys b-but - something made me feel like you were the only person in this club who felt the same…the same loneliness that I did.”

At that, his fingers stilled. Hyunjin’s eyes searched yours carefully - looking for what? You didn’t know. But whatever he found…it seemed to be satisfactory. For those long arms wound tightly around you once again, hiking you higher against the rough wall.

“Fine. You can have it your way, angel.” And as his head dipped to your neck, lips bruising the signs of his lust onto your skin, a choked moan spilled forth from your lips as those slender hips snapped into yours - pushing his cock further into you, balls deep, stretching your sensitive walls beyond belief.

“So fucking tight,” he murmured hoarsely, now driving himself into you in a steady, punishing pace. “How much would it take to fuck you loose for the first time, hmm? Maybe I should take you home and test it out,” he mused, a chuckle just this side of unhinged bubbling forth from his lips. “Tie you down and fuck this sweet little pussy until it’s swollen and red and aching.” Even just the thought made you involuntarily clench down on him, drawing what was almost a growl out of his throat. “Such a good girl.”

And you? You were lost. With just a small shift in angle, Hyunjin’s cock was now sliding right against that sweet spot, deep inside you, his pubic bone grinding deliciously against your clit. The feeling of his lithe body caged in between your thighs, crushing you in against the wall; the sinful trail of fire his mouth was leaving along the delicate skin of your neck, your throat…if you’d known that this, this is what sex was like - you would’ve had it long, long ago.

…But a little voice told you that - this might just be sex with Hyunjin that felt like this.

And with that, it wasn’t long before you shattered in his arms, heels digging into his back as the peaks of your pleasure rolled over you - only to scream as Hyunjin’s large hands slammed you down against him, impaling you fully on his cock as, with a throaty groan, he filled you full, hot cum splattering against your sore, sensitive walls.

There was a beat of silence, with only the sounds of heavy breathing to break the still. As you leaned your head back against the wall, struggling to come back down from your high, you could feel Hyunjin’s gaze burning through you.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, as if just to himself. You blinked your eyes open to see him watching you - but something about the way he was looking at you had changed. Where before they’d been fiery, filled with unambiguous lust, desire, cockiness - that frenzy had given way to something more…profound. Like he was trying to see you, see through you - see you for who you really were.

You hated to break the moment - but now that you weren’t burning up with lust, the very physical ramifications of being fucked up against a wall were making themselves known to you. You danced your fingers over Hyunjin’s collarbone. “Can you…”

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in, hands surprisingly gentle as they cupped your thighs, supporting your weight as he let you down from the wall. When you stumbled on landing, the strength in your legs failing you, he steadied you against him.

“Does it hurt?” His voice was gruff, clearly masking some emotion he didn’t want you to see.

“Pretty sore, yeah,” you admitted with a wry smile. “But hey - makes it more memorable, right?”

It seemed like he wasn’t expecting that flippant of a response from you, for the next thing he blurted out was - “Romantic fool.”

You could tell he hadn’t meant to be so abrasive, a cloud of regret immediately passing over his face, but you knew what he meant.

“It’s okay,” you told him, shrugging it off. “I know I am and that I shouldn’t-”

You stopped when you felt soft fingers under your chin, lifting your head back up. Hyunjin looked deep into your eyes, the corner of his plush mouth upturned in a crooked smile. “It takes one to know one, angel.”

He bit his lip, hesitating. It looked he wanted to, was about to say something more - but then…

“Well, well…and what do we have here? A stray dog rutting in an alleyway, tsk tsk...” An arrogant, menacing voice called out from the darkness, accompanied by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps - of more than one person.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin spat out, blue eyes narrowed in icy fury. “These assholes don’t know what’s good for them.” You watched as he transformed in front of you, back into that cold, dangerous - honestly sexy - mafioso.

“You need to get out of here, angel - I don’t want those fuckers to get even a glimpse of you.” Hyunjin passed his hands over you, quickly, efficiently straightening out your clothes and his. “Can you do one thing for me? Run back to the boys and tell them that the fucking pirates are sailing in. I’m gonna need backup here.” You nodded quickly, knowing you - and he - didn’t have much time.

Just as you turned to run away though, Hyunjin caught your hand in his, stopping you. “I…I’ll come find you, okay?” His voice was pitched low, serious in tone. You could tell he meant what he said…at least, for now. You murmured a soft agreement before making your escape.

Luckily, Hyunjin’s boys were still where you left them. You decided to go up to the one in the middle, the one with muscles straight out of a GQ magazine, who was watching you waddle back into the bar with a knowing smirk plastered across his face.

Bicep Boy - you might as well call him that - spoke first. “Boss still recovering?”

You felt yourself flush with embarrassment. For a brief second, you wondered what they thought of you - wondered how many times they’d seen Hyunjin do this exact thing. The thought sent a sudden shudder of jealousy through you - but that wasn’t important right now.

“No - he, um, he sent me to get you guys. There’s a few guys outside…and he wanted me to tell you that, uh, the pirates are sailing in?”

You startled back as their relaxed, nonchalant attitude disappeared in a flash, the three of them jumping to their feet immediately. “Fucking hell,” the man in front of you hissed, looking pissed as he fished around for a tip to throw on the bar. “Those motherfuckers just can’t stay in line, can they?”

“Wait…” the man next to him, almost drowning in a fancy mink coat, piped up abruptly. “If hyung sent her back to us…does someone need to walk her back?” The three men paused for a second, the weight of their gaze prickling as they turned to look at you again, size you up.

“No no,” you protested. “I’ll take care of myself - they couldn’t have gotten a good look at me anyways. I’d rather you go back Hyunjin up...make sure nothing happens to him.”

From their approving looks, you’d clearly passed some sort of test. “Take this then,” the third man, silent until now, shoved a ball of fabric into your hands - Hyunjin’s abandoned coat. “That dress stands out too much - and I’m sure the boss’ll be getting it back from you soon.”

And with a surprisingly warm, friendly smile - he and the others were off.

You were left standing at the bar, with an expensive, bulky coat in your arms and the eyes of most of the club on you. With nothing else to do, you slunk your way out of the club, just as you had looked forward to doing just a short while ago…

But why did it now feel so disheartening?

And…here you were. Alone, at home, on a weekend night - again.

You’d just curled up on your couch, idly watching TV - not because you particularly wanted to, but more because sleep had deserted you. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could feel was the ghost of Hyunjin’s touch - his body against yours, his lips, his fingers on your body.

You shook yourself off. Maybe some ice cream would help, you mused, shoving off the blankets you’d just tucked yourself into to get up.

But then - the doorbell rang.

For a second, you froze. You and your roommate never really had visitors…and the fear that maybe someone had followed you home from that alleyway flitted through you.

On the other hand though…what if it was him?

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to the door. Keeping the chain hooked, you slowly pulled it open, just a crack - and were immediately rewarded with the sight of those already familiar, icy blue eyes.

Hyunjin.

“I’ll…I’ll leave this second if you want me to,” he started, fingers fidgeting with his bracelets. “But I just felt that we left some things…unfinished back there.”

You agreed, but even if you didn’t - you weren’t going to miss out on this.

Quietly, you let him in. Even though you were positive shit went down after you left, Hyunjin looked perfectly fine - statuesque, just as before. When you gestured to an armchair, he shook his head. “I think I want to stay standing for now.”

Your heart sunk. Maybe seeking you out, coming all the way to your apartment…wasn’t to make the gesture that you thought. Maybe this was just an apology, an attempt to tie things off between you, neatly, permanently, with a bow on top. Maybe…

Shuffling slowly back to your couch, you sat down and waited for him to speak.

“I…I don’t do this often. I know what it might look like, but…I don’t really sleep around, chase after women just looking for a quick fuck. That’s not who I am…and that’s not what I want you…or this to be.”

At your sharp inhale, he took half a step away from you - his eyes solemn, searching yours to see what he could find. He bit his lip. “This is so selfish of me, I know…but I’d-I’d like to see you again. Take you out somewhere, more formally…as you deserve.”

“Why is that selfish?” A little bud of hope had flowered in your heart…but you were still confused by his hesitance.

He took a second to respond. “You’ll be a target, you know,” he murmured quietly, gazing down at his clasped hands. “I know a lot of dark people - and they wouldn’t give a shit about…using you to get at me. Being seen with me, being with me…you’ll never feel safe again.”

Slowly, you stood up and walked over to him. Standing right in front of him without your heels, without the wall hiking you up against him, you had to tilt your head back to actually look at his face full on - though his eyes still wouldn’t meet yours. And so, you did, running your hands carefully up his arms to rest on his shoulders.

“Then why do I feel the safest I’ve ever been, Hyunjin, standing here in front of you?”

At that, his head snapped up, finally looking at you directly.

“I want to try this,” you told him, your voice calm and steady. “I would love to…do something more formal with you too. And…” your voice wavered, as you gathered your confidence in turn, “maybe you could stay with me for a bit tonight too?”

You wished you had a camera to capture how Hyunjin’s face lit up - how those plush lips curved, eyes crinkled up in a genuine, warm smile. “I would love to.” You felt your heart stutter, your own lips curving in response.

“Well then,” you dusted your hands off, putting on a business-like air for him. “Let’s get you settled first. Want me to make you something? Or is there anything you want to make?”

“I’m useless in a kitchen,” he told you, cracking a sheepish grin. “But I can whip up a mean ice cream sundae.”

So, that’s what he did. You let him make you that sundae - which really was good. You sat side-by-side and watched three episodes of drama, sharing your ice cream in increasingly comfortable, companionable silence. Hyunjin didn’t need to know how much of that time you spent watching him, your lips quirking at just how caught up he got in the show.

You let him take you back to your bed, let him thoroughly, passionately destroy any innocence you had left with every weapon he had at his disposal - his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his cock. Once you’d gotten your fill of each other - once you let him take you and take you again until your cunt was sore and swollen, your thighs quivering from exhaustion - you laid there together in your bed - naked, your head on his chest, his arm tentatively, carefully wrapped around your waist.

And then…he talked. About how he’d dreamed of being a painter, an artist one day…before his world as he knew it went up in literal flames. About how he would gladly kill - and die - for his boys, his strays, who’d banded around him, put their trust in him when he was nothing. About how being the boss, being the top was lonely - was stressful, painful and exhilarating, all at once.

By the end, you could tell he was exhausted; his body had drifted down against yours, his head now cocooned against your breasts, and you both were doing your best to pretend the droplets of moisture on your chest were sweat. But still, he listened to you too, never making you feel like your problems - your purposelessness, your friendlessness, your inability to make your own dreams reality - were too mundane or unworthy, even compared to his.

Finally, you let him pull your weary body against his, curl his lanky torso around yours. “I’ve never slept the night in someone else’s bed before,” Hyunjin offered up, voice soft and vulnerable in your ear. “That makes two of us,” you whisper back, running your fingers up and down the arm wrapped around your waist. He tugged you a little closer in response - and closer still as he fell asleep, taking you underneath with him.

Part of you had been nervous about going to sleep - in case you woke up just to find that…this had all been a dream. That you were alone, as always, in your cold bed - that you had no lover to wake up to.

Those fears were dashed the second you woke up and felt Hyunjin’s warm presence still behind you. You rolled over slowly - only to find him already awake, watching you with a small smile. He was a study of contrasts in the pale morning light: soft, pouty lips; mussed hair - bruised knuckles; dark, swirling tattoos. He was beautiful, and - at least, for this morning, for now - he was yours.

You shoved him headfirst in to the shower, and while he cleaned up and squeezed himself back into those delectably tight clothes from last night, you worked your ass off to make a feast for breakfast. It was worth it though - at least, the shy eye smile, the soft “thank you” that he gave you in response...it was worth it.

And that’s how your roommate found you when she came back: the two of you perched on your rickety kitchen stools, Hyunjin’s arm now wrapped comfortably around you as the two of you giggled over a drunk video - a music video? - Bicep Boy (Hyunjin had laughed at you, telling you his name was Changbin) and the other two had fucked around shooting last night.

“Oh!” She gasped. You whipped your head around to watch her do a literal double take at the sight of you and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin stood up with a yawn, deliberately stretching himself to his full height. “I was just leaving.” You bit back a grin - sure, he might be shy, introverted at his core…but when he wanted to, Hyunjin definitely knew how to put on a show. So you just smiled fondly as, with a lascivious little wink, he leaned down to give you a whopping goodbye smooch, with tongue for good measure. He’d clearly listened to your retelling of your roommate’s role in this whole ordeal.

“Bye, angel. I’ll text you.” And with a poignant look and a final squeeze of your hands, Hyunjin was off. You almost wanted to pinch yourself as another test, again. But before that - you had something - or someone - to deal with first.

“Is that…”

“Yes,” you nodded. “The date you set me up with…didn’t pan out, but I ran into Hyunjin at the same club.”

“Looks like you did a little more than run into him alright,” a small, teasing smirk on her face as she looked you up and down. “That’s funny though. I used to…see one of the other guys from SKZ, a long while back…” she trailed off, lost in thought for a second. “It’s a long story,” she sighed, “but anyways…” She shook her head, turning her attention back squarely to you. “You and Hwang Hyunjin, eh? How’d it happen?”

“It’s a long story,” you smiled back up at her, before taking a deep breath. If you’d gained any perspective from what you’d spilled to Hyunjin last night, it would be that the only person who could lift you out of your loneliness…was you. “Wanna talk about it over breakfast?”

She stilled for a second, but you watched happily as a slow smile crept across her face.

“Let’s do it.”

As you got up to make her a plate, you heard a relatively unfamiliar sound - your phone buzzing from not just one, but multiple texts.

> Hyunjinnie: Same time, same place this Friday?

> Hyunjinnie: If I can make it that long without you…

> Hyunjinnie: ❤️

You didn’t think your heart still had flutters left to give after everything that had happened…but here it was, flittering away. You responded in kind, telling Hyunjin you’d be counting down the days on your end too - and that was the honest truth.

You’d just sat down again, about to pick up your fork, when your phone let out one final buzz.

> Hyunjinnie: (Oh, and bring that roommate of yours too. I’m sure your ~Bicep Boy~ would be happy to see her 😉)

It took everything you had in you to keep a delighted giggle from spilling out past your lips. You eyed your roommate, who had a faraway look in her eyes as she methodically buttered her slices of banana.

Things sure were gonna be interesting around here - and you were so looking forward to keeping it that way.

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fadingdaggerr · 3 months

Text

tease and unease

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: (based on following req that was sent w/o anon so they asked for it to be) “I did have a request if you're into it! Reader and melissa have been in a relationship secretly for a while. They have a fight about keeping it a secret right before PECSA weekend (mel wants to keep it a secret and reader does not). So the weekend is filled with mini fights and glaring and lots of drinks to nimb the hurt. Lol Reader gets drunk and dedicates then plays their song on piano in the lobby of the convention center - outing them. A little angsty but with a happy ending? Feel free to change anything you're not feeling and thank you!!”

warnings: very dialogue heavy oops, insecurity, verbal fighting, petty r bc i’m petty, heavy-ish? alcohol consumption, drunk!r

note: just realized that with all my fics i’ve somehow avoided using any pronouns or actually name for r. feel like i’m doing full fledged gymnastics

There is barely a second to answer the question Barbara asked you about a new show you’d started before the lounge door flies open and Janine is excitedly doing little laps around the room chanting ‘PECSA’ as she goes. Even though this is her third time going to the convention, she had been extremely excited. Whether that was because of this year’s presentations or due to last year’s event in the botanical classroom, you can’t tell. Janine’s zoomies end as she catches herself against Jacob’s chair to catch her breath.

“Please- oh my God- please tell me y’all are coming this year?” Janine asks as she’s still breathless from excitement and running a marathon between wobbly tables.

“Considering it’s mandatory,” Melissa says with annoyance in her tone, immediately your foot kicks hers as a silent ‘be nice.’

Janine’s excitement doesn’t falter once, “did you see that they have a whole presentation on which color whiteboard markers are the best for teaching each subject?” Barbara turns at the same time as you, both of you looking at each other with exasperation and a little disbelief on both ends. Melissa is desperately trying not to laugh, her hand under the table gripping your knee with a vice to not burst into a cackle right at her fellow second grade teacher.

The second she got control of her laughter, the hand on your leg was gone like it was burned by your skin through your jeans. When you try to pull her hand back for just an extra second of her touch, her hand shakes yours off as her body leans away entirely.

There is some annoyance that lingers in your chest from this interaction, and it only grows more as you take the long way to Melissa’s house from school because she insists that no one can even see you going in the same direction. Six months of this, driving six extra blocks and not even being able to give unseen affection, and she hasn’t even deemed it a good time to tell Barbara, her best friend. She had just barely allowed you to tell your friends, who didn’t even know the Abbott crew, and still won’t allow even one picture to even have her elbow in it.

As you pull into the driveway, you take a few deep breaths to try to ease this tension that you wish hadn’t begun to fester. Walking in the front door, it was easy to forget all of it when Melissa came down the stairs, nearly slipping in her fluffy socks as she hurried to pull you into a greeting kiss. Her hands hold your face as she peppers your cheeks in kisses, speaking between smacks of her lips against your skin, “you took your sweet time coming inside.”

“Sorry,” you barely get out, reeling your head back to stop the assault from her lips and wrapping your arms around and holding her, “missed you today.”

She laughs from the crook of your neck, “we had prep and lunch together.”

“Eight hours in the same building and I only get you for an hour? That’s not even close to enough,” you say, pulling back to finally take off your shoes. Nothing is quite like the sight of a flustered Melissa Schemmenti, your comment making her cheeks light up the prettiest shade of pink, your second favorite color after the green of her eyes.

As you stood in the shower, hot water practically cooking your skin, the topic of today’s lunch conversation rolled around your mind. PECSA has always been held at a large hotel with so many rooms and several pool spots, maybe this would finally be a social setting where Melissa wasn’t so guarded and actually allowed herself to enjoy time with you that wasn’t solely in the hotel room. Shit, the hotel room, you meant to call and reserve a room two days ago but were stuck grading book reports into the early morning.

“Baby!” you shout as you step onto the bathmat, wrapping a towel around you as you listen for approaching footsteps. When there is none, your voice turns whiny, “Melissaaaa!”

There’s a huff outside the door before it opens, “Jesus, amore, let me get up the stairs. What’s wrong?”

“Please tell me you called the hotel about our room,” you say as you pull her old college t-shirt over your frame, the tattered sleeves soft against the skin of your shoulder, “I meant to call the other night.”

Melissa’s eyes are soft at the view of you in her shirt, a smile playing at her lips before she answers, “yeah. I called ‘em and got the rooms all set, no worries.” Her lips press against your cheek before she walks out the room to head into the bedroom.

A sense of relief fills you, a deep breath leaving your lungs. As you settle into bed, your arm wraps around Melissa’s waist, a kiss as a silent goodnight is pressed to her shoulder, getting the typical hum in response. As you begin to drift off, nudging into the redhead’s back a little, a thought enters your mind. Rooms?

“Wait, ‘rooms’ plural?” you say against her back, but your only response is her light snoring.

—

“Mel baby, we gotta go! We have to check into the hotel at noon!” you call up the stairs as you spin your suitcase around lazily.

“Just leave without me, hon, I’ll meet you there,” she answers from her bedroom.

You frown, “the hell do you mean? I thought we were driving there together, it makes sense.”

“We don’t need anyone seeing anything, you can just get there ahead of me,” you’re a little too shocked at her words to respond before she adds, “oh, and when you get there can you get my keycard for my room?”

Your back stiffens, as does the hand holding your suitcase. Without thinking, you let go of the case and start up the stairs, stopping in the doorway to the bedroom, her back facing away from you as she packs the rest of her hair products, “your room?”

Melissa jumps a little when she hears your voice, smiling as she recovers, “well yeah, amore. Can’t be sharing a room without everyone piecing it together, now can we?”

“Oh, of course, how dare I think anyone can see us within a hundred feet of each other,” your attitude and facial expression make the redhead frown, her arms immediately crossing.

“Don’t be like that, you know that’s not what I meant,” she steps closer, but not much. This conversation has happened only a few times in the last six months. Melissa is a very private person, one that didn’t want anyone in her business, she’d only just let her family meet you a month ago.

You take a step forward, “we can’t drive in together because no one can see us together. We can’t share a room because no one can see us together. I can’t sit next to you at work because no one can see us together. I can’t even drive here the normal way because no one can see us together.” There has never been an instance where you told her she had to shout it from the rooftops, all you wanted was to be close to her. She didn’t even let you two be seen as actual friends, just as tolerated by her, and it was all starting to dig away at you. You stepforward more as you spoke, “so, enlighten me, what do you mean?”

There’s a shift in her posture and face, everything hardens and she becomes more serious. She thinks this tough-Schemmenti-look works on you, but after watching her cry at pet commercials, you can’t be fooled. Despite the confident anger she was showing, there was no response. Without waiting, you turn around and walk down the stairs, leaving with your suitcase in your own car.

The lobby is packed tight, a bunch of underpaid sardines filling every inch of the place, yet it felt incredibly lonely. The front desk gave you your keycard, you didn’t bother with getting Melissa’s, your only goal was to get to your room and lay in the bed until the presentations started tomorrow. You were not going to a whiteboard marker presentation.

However, you did promise Ava you’d go to her presentation on “Being That Girl and That Principal,” so hiding won’t be an option for the next morning. You register that Melissa and Barbara are both in the room as well, but you hope a certain someone doesn’t notice among the crowd that had collected.

Not even ten minutes into the presentation, a warm body is next to you, red hair and perfect eyeliner. You take a deep breath in and sidestep to the left, trying to make space between you, but she closes it again. She turns to look at you, and you pointedly keep your eyes on Ava’s presentation, which is just perfectly lit photos of her around Abbott, which until now you didn’t notice that she had photoshopped out the water damage on the ceiling.

“Are you going to ignore me all weekend?” Melissa mumbles.

You shrug, “I’m surprised standing next to me is even allowed, I thought we couldn’t even be seen near each other.”

“Stop being childish.”

“Don’t think I will,” you reply, turning to walk to the other side of the room.

—

Math-a-ritas, Daiquireads, Sex Ed on the Beach, was it so hard to get a normal ass drink around here? It already took you three tries to get a normal rum and coke before the prepubescent-looking bartender got the damn thing right, but one they did, it honestly isn’t all that bad. What was starting to get bad, however, was the tension between you and Melissa. Being part of her typical group, Barbara insists on the two of you walking around with her, chatting with vendors and teachers from every school, except Addington.

Upon seeing Melissa’s hands white knuckling a glass of wine, Barbara sends a questioning look, only getting a shake of the head in response. She turns to you, almost ready to ask if you can talk to Melissa, but you’re equally sour looking.

Both women watch you down your second drink before getting up, “I’ll be back in a few, just getting another drink.”

“Do you really think you need more?” your girlfriend pipes up.

“Melissa…” Barbara warns, having been stuck in the tension between you two. She’d thought her friend was soft on you, but it was starting to look differently.

You don’t even give her the decency to look at her as you say, “I really, truly do, Schemmenti.”

You don’t return like you said you would, and green eyes are scanning the hall to find your frame. When she catches sight of you, she sees another drink downed and she grimaces. Melissa’s anger starts to fade when she sees you waver a little as you walk-and-talk with Jacob, who finally was attending PECSA-geddon this year. You turn and look in her direction, and she frowns at the instant look of minor resentment crosses your face before you stumble again. Melissa stands and starts over in your direction, ignoring Barb’s gaze.

The redhead reaches you, a hand on your elbow, “hon, you should sit down.”

“Why do you care?” you snap back, pulling your arm away. Jacob’s eyes widen, and Melissa motions to tell him to leave, to which he is quick to listen and goes to Barbara.

“You’re falling over, amore, please sit down,” she pleads through gritted teeth.

You huff and step further back, “stop it, Melissa, someone’s gonna think we know each other.” She wasn’t accustomed to you being so abrasive, even in arguments, usually you were calm and direct, something she could easily mirror when she got too in her own head. Now, you are just drunk, angry, and wanting nothing to do with her, something she never expected to see.

Melissa is growing even more pissed as she watches you finish your fifth drink, your head shaking in that cute way it does when your drink is too strong. You catch her stare, which becomes more of a glare when your eyes meet hers, and you frown. Somewhere between your first and last sip of your fifth drink, you’d gone from angry to sad drunk, and Melissa's disapproving looks were making your eyes burn.

On the third sip of your sixth drink, the realization that a DJ was at the party made you jump excitedly. You stumble through the line, using your conversation partner to keep you upright, you wait to make a request.

“What do you want?” the DJ says without a single ounce of enthusiasm.

You smile anyways, “please, please play this song. It’s one of my girlfriend’s favorites, I don’t know if I’d call it ‘our song,’ but when I hear it I think of her and her pretty eyes and face and hair and hands an-”

“Dude, what is the song?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s Bette Davis Eyes, Kim Carnes,” you laugh out, almost teetering over.

“It’ll play after Kendrick,” the DJ says dismissively, motioning for the next person in line to move forward.

—

There’s a slump in your mood as music fills the room. Where everyone is dancing and laughing, you’re gnawing on your thumbnail as the drinks catch up to you, making you more anxious than carefree. Part of you wants to just disappear to your room, the other part doesn’t remember where that is exactly. A secret third part wishes you got Melissa’s keycard for her so you’d know where she was staying tonight, though you were a tiny bit sure your rooms had to be near each other.

You just barely register the beginning of a rap song as you start to wander the room in hopes of finding someone familiar, just yearning to be with your Abbott people. You’re gripping chairs as you walk around, speeding up as you register Ava’s high ponytail back near the DJ booth. You barely catch her arm, anchoring yourself to the principal.

“Weebles-wobbles, you’re definitely falling down! You better drink some water before your liver gets revenge,” Ava half-jokes as she pushes her cup towards you, “what made you decide to let loose?”

You gulp down the whole water and sigh, “I can’t just have fun?”

“You look downright sad,” she answers with a laugh as you pout. The Kendrick song fades out, and 80s guitar starts to play, immediately making you freeze. You turn slowly towards the DJ with big, scared eyes, you forgot that you’d requested he play this.

The horror only continues when you see him point to you and say, “this song is dedicated to this one’s girlfriend.” If someone decides to sporadically drive through the window and crush you, you thank them right now.

“Girlfriend?” Ava asks from next to you, “you got a girlfriend and you haven’t said shit?”

“Not now, Ava. I think I have to leave.”

“The party?”

“The country,” you answer before ducking your head and walking as Kim Carnes voice plays in the speakers.

Her hair is Harlow gold / Her lips, a sweet surprise / Her hands are never cold / She's got Bette Davis eyes

In your perspective, you’re almost running towards the door, but Melissa sees the stagger in your steps get worse. She doesn’t think about it before she starts weaving through party attendees to get to you faster, no longer caring about her own arbitrary rules. Someone dares step in her way, and they’re pushed roughly, the lyrics of your song were making her work harder to get to you.

She'll turn the music on you / You won't have to think twice / She's pure as New York snow / She got Bette Davis eyes

When the redhead finally reaches you, she’s quick to pull you out of the view of everyone else, and for once it wasn’t for her personal benefit. As she stops moving, she keeps a hand on your arm while you steady yourself. When you turn and look at her, there’s no anger for once, just embarrassment.

She can’t even get a word in before you’re rambling, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t tell him to dedicate it to you, I just wanted to listen to it and I mentioned that it made me think of you- not like you but you. I’m sorry, please don’t hate me, I didn’t want to ups-”

Arms wrap tightly around your neck, tugging you into her embrace. Your own arms flail for a moment before they wrap around her waist, hands gripping the material of her dress. A hand rubs your back, helping you control your breathing, “I’m not mad at you and I don’t hate you.”

“You’re mad, you just feel bad for me right now,” you murmur into her skin, “you should get back before someone notices.”

Melissa only sighs, loosening her hold on you to pull you in the direction of the elevator. You’re vaguely mumbling about her being fine letting you go, but she stays connected to you. She’s acutely aware that you have no idea where your room is, but it’s next to hers, that much she knows. Melissa leans you against the wall, digging in your pockets for your keycard since she left her purse with Barbara at the party.

“Are you trying to feel me up or rob me?” you joke, or at least she thinks you’re joking since she can barely tell through the slurred laugh you let out. Melissa just smiles lightly before opening your door and shoving you in. She tries to guide you towards the bed, but you stick to her side as if you’re sewn to her.

When she finally gets you all situated, she looks at you to see tears welling in your eyes as you scan her face. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, “what’s wrong, amore?”

You exhale, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, I’m gonna stay right here,” she says softly, thumb caressing your warm cheek.

“No, no. I don’t want you to leave,” you whine, gripping the sleeve of her dress.

She understands what you mean now, and it makes her heart fall in her chest a little. Pulling away, she assures you she isn’t leaving to placate you before going through your suitcase for an extra shirt to wear to bed, knowing that she wasn’t going to leave even if you changed your mind and told her to. It takes about eighty times as long to get you into your own sleep shirt and shorts, but once you’re comfortable, the tears in your eyes fade away.

Melissa tucks herself in behind you, arm wrapping tightly around your middle, though you wiggle and worm around until you’re facing her. A hand comes up and pushes loose hairs away from her face, the look in your eye so soft that she was almost convinced you’d forgotten everything you’d been arguing about.

“Why don’t you wanna tell Barb, or just anyone?” There’s a shyness in your tone as you play with the chains of her necklaces, “I know you wanna be private, but I don’t like being a secret.”

“You’re not a secret, I just like having you to myself,” she tries to appease you, wanting to have this conversation when you’re both sober.

There’s a look she can’t read on your face before you say, “you already have that and so do I, but sometimes I want to show you off. You’re too pretty not to.”

A wry grin crosses her face at your words, the very fragile filter you had was demolished by the rum and cokes. The hand that previously had been occupied by her necklaces was now fiddling with and twirling her hair, your eyes equally trained on the new object of your hand’s attention. Melissa’s attention settled on eyelash on your cheek, she wished it was a good moment to get it so you could make a wish on it.

“I’ll tell Barb,” you move to argue, “not because you’re telling me to, but because you’re right. I want to show you off, get you in some Schemmenti clothes.” Melissa delights in the quiet groan you let out at the proposition of one of her custom jerseys or sweatshirts, her last name marking you as hers. Her own heart skips a beat at the image in her mind.

Your hand moves to her neck and you try to focus your eyes on her face, “only when you’re actually ready. I don’t wanna rush you.”

“No, I’ll tell her once we get back. I don’t need all those math-a-ritas spilling my business to half of PECSA,” she mumbles the last bit, and she gratefully sees you nodding in agreement. Stretching up, you press a kiss to her jaw. And another, then another. Nudging your way into the crook of her neck, Melissa feels your teeth gently chomp at her skin, a squeak leaving her throat at the action.

Your thumb strokes over the faint mark left on her neck that will be gone before morning, a kiss placed over it. The redhead can feel the vibrations of you speaking from her neck, but it’s too muffled to make out. She hums, a barely there question of what you’re saying, and the volume of your grumbles just barely reaches her ears. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

Neither of you answer the wake-up call or attend the continental breakfast the next morning. There’s not even an effort to leave the bed until twenty minutes before checkout where you both parted ways just to pack your things before rushing downstairs to go home. There’ll be a time where you stop driving separately and share stolen looks from down the hallway, and Melissa fully intends for that being over brunch with Barb tomorrow. Tonight, however, she wasn’t planning on letting go of you for even a second.

title is from bette davis eyes by kim carnes (also the song in the fic)

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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pianokantzart · 3 months

Note

i’ve always wondered how the luigi’s mansion games would be from mario’s perspective. do you think he would be in some sort of empty room with a window to look out of? it’s kinda hard to imagine what being trapped inside a flat object would be like. related to your post, how would the ‘stagnant mode’ work? would he still be aware and conscious?

sorry i have so many questions lol, this has been on my mind all day. how would it work for mario?

No problem! I don't mind the questions :) In the original Luigi's Mansion, I imagine Mario's painting is much like you described it, but the room is very small, very narrow, and extremely claustrophobic... more like a coffin than a room, really.

Mario can talk all he wants and move around to some extent, but he can't get away from the "window," and when he finally falls unconscious he does so still standing upright, head slumped forward.

But I highly doubt the portraits were designed to be so unpleasant. In the gallery you can see the captured ghosts are fairly peaceful; lounging around on furniture, doing their hair, playing with toys or reading books, like the portrait is roomy and comfortable as a small apartment.

King Boo just decided to be a dick the moment he got ahold of E. Gadd's technology.

In Luigi's Mansion 2&3, where we have the still version of the paintings, characters need a moment to gather their surroundings and check themselves over after they're freed. Seeing this, I theorize that being trapped in a still painting is like being in a dreamless sleep, but with a more accurate sense of passing time.

That's what I imagine "stagnant mode" is like in my version of the paintings. Stagnant mode is best if you want a ghoulish wall ornament, but awake & aware is best if you want to gloat, torment, or interrogate.

#askbox #anon #Luigi's mansion #Mario Headcanons #Luigi #Super Mario Bros

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missjomarch · 1 year

Text

The Boys

platonic!umich hockey x reader

words: 3.4k

warnings: descriptive SA, swearing, mentions of alcohol, ‘princess’ as a playful/friendly nickname lol

A/N: PLEASE do not read if the things mentioned in the warnings are triggering for you, this is rather detailed and graphic at points. it’s been a really long time (over 2 years) since I’ve written anything creative so please be kind. This was also heavily influence by @yankstrash fic “I’ve Got You” so please go check it out. Enjoy <3

Probably 18+ bc of the SA aspect, read at your own risk

You were drunk. Past drunk, actually. You’re not exactly sure how it happened, but you do know that one minute you were playing flip cup with Nolan and the next the room was spinning. In your defense it was Saturday night - your favorite night.

Despite your friendship with the hockey boys and your current residence in Michigan, hockey wasn’t your favorite sport. Maybe don’t tell the boys that though. Growing up Southern, you were a die hard football fan. Attending the game every Saturday and the party after was one of your favorite routines. And that’s exactly how you ended up here: giggling on the couch of the sophomore house as sweaty bodies lounged around you.

You had met the boys halfway through your freshman year. After being paired with Ethan for a project in your economics class, he had invited you to go out with them. Somewhere between then and now the occasional darty turned into weeknight sleepovers and attending all their games. You loved your boys, and they loved you. They’d do anything for you, and though you didn’t live there the house was equally as much yours as it was theirs.

You were still giggling on the couch, talking with a girl from your leadership class, when Luca plopped down beside you.

“TILLI!!” you gasped, leaning into him.

“Hey y/n/n.” Luca smiled down at you, putting his arm around you. You lifted your head off his chest to bring your mouth closer to his ear.

“You’re my favorite Fantilli brother, but don’t tell Adam. It’ll hurt his feelings,” you whispered to Luca, or at least you thought you did. The alcohol was definitely affecting your volume awareness. Luca let out a laugh at your compliment, giving your waist a squeeze in acknowledgement.

“Okay,” you sighed, “I’m going to get another drink.” You quickly stood up from the couch, only to quickly be yanked back down by Luca.

“Oh no you don’t princess, you’re cut off.” Luca reprimands. A pout quickly makes its way to your face, fake tears already beginning to pool in your eyes.

“Don’t give me that look. Sober you would never say that I was your favorite Fantilli brother, so you’re caught.” You continued to pout as Luca looked down at you.

“Well you’re not exactly helping your case right now, sir,” you slurred, but Luca just shrugged at your threat. You sat in silence for a few minutes with your head tucked into Luca’s chest as he scrolled on his phone.

“Okay, but Lu I actually do really need to use the bathroom. Can you let me up?” You poked at him. He eyed you for a second, looking for that usual mischievous glint. Coming up short, he released his grip on you. You swayed when you stood, but were quickly stabilized by his hand at your elbow.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to the stairs.” Luca stood with you guiding you to the staircase before you waved him off, insisting you could make it up. The upstairs is usually off limits to party guests, as the boys don’t want people in their rooms. You were an exception, of course.

You made your way into the bathroom, quickly doing your business before turning to look in the mirror. After a quick touch-up and a moment of mid-party dissociation, you were ready to return downstairs. Swinging the door open, you begin to walk down the quiet hallway when you someone grabs your wrist. You turn around, expecting to see one of the hockey boys, but are met with a vaguely familiar brunette.

“There you are. I’ve been trying to track you down all night.” He gives you a wide grin, clearly even more drunk than you. At your hesitation, his smile drops a bit.

“You remember me, don’t you? Nathan. We met at the game last week.” The recognition hits you finally. He had been standing behind you at the football game last Saturday, and had asked for your number. You hadn’t really been interested, but before you could say no Ethan had sent him on his way with a “she’s good bro.”

“Oh yeah! I remember now. Sorry about last weekend, sometimes Ethan can be a bit-“

“Don’t worry about it,” Nathan cut you off, “I’m just glad I found you again.” He stepped closer to you now. Pulling on your wrist slightly so your back was facing the stairs. Your face faltered a bit, unsettled by his closeness.

“Speaking of, where’s your boyfriend tonight pretty girl?” Nathan began to pull on your arms a bit, clearly trying to direct you into the darkness of the hallway. You were used to people referring to Ethan as your boyfriend, as you two spent so much time together. But the tone Nathan used left a sour taste in your mouth. You considered lying about this next part.

“He’s actually not my-“ He cut you off again.

“Even better.” Your blood ran cold as Nathan’s eyes darkened. He began pulling you down the hallway to one of the boys’ bedrooms. You struggled against his hold but the fight was futile. He was a foot taller than you and probably a hundred pounds heavier. You began to panic, frantically looking behind you to catch the eye of someone downstairs.

“Come on baby, don’t act like you don’t want me. I saw the look in your eye last weekend before your little boy toy ruined our fun.” Nathan shoved you through the nearest doorway, which happened to be Ethan’s bedroom.

Tears began to run down your face as Nathan slammed the door shut, locking it behind him. There was no escaping this. His hands were on you in an instant, grabbing at anything he could reach as he shoved his lips against yours. You continued to fight again him, even as he shoved you against the door. Your head made a thud against the wood, the impact not helping your dizziness. You found yourself regretting ever drinking at all, the alcohol in your system only adding to your disorientation.

“Please,” you whispered, a sob making its way into your throat as he moved his lips down your neck.

“What was that? You want more?” Nathan drawled into your ear. You frantically shook your head no, begging him to get off. Your shoves and scratches did nothing to deter him. His hands found their way to your chest, grabbing at your boobs. You heard the fabric rip before you even felt the cool air hit your chest. He had ripped your tank top in half, exposing your chest to him. You thrashed in his hold, desperately trying to cover yourself.

“No no, none of that baby.” Nathan cooed, trying to get his hold back on you. When you finally stopped fighting his hold, he moved back to kiss you. You spat in his face then, your last act of defiance. Nathan’s face screwed up in anger.

“You stupid bitch-“ your cheek was suddenly burning. You barely registered the hand he was lowering as you stood there dumbfounded. He had slapped you - hard. You knew it was going to leave a mark as the tears began to well up in your eyes all over again.

Nathan was still grumbling to himself as he dragged you towards Ethan’s bed. He flung you onto the mattress you had spent so many nights on already. You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to sleep here again. His hands were back on you now, and you began to search the room for anything that could help you. You knew E had an extra stick in here but where was it? Damn it y/n think. It wasn’t anywhere you could visibly see it, but you vaguely remembered him saying something once about it being being under the bed.

Nathan began to pull off of you to strip his clothes. It was now or never. Praying Ethan still had that damn stick under the bed , you quickly rolled on your side. Shoving your hand under the bed, you fumbled around for a half second before finding purchase on something. You retracted, the stick in your hand. Thank God. Nathan was turning back around, and that’s when you swung. It wasn’t a hard hit, but when blade met his nose blood went flying. Ethan cursed, hands flying to his now shattered nose. You threw the stick to the side, bolting up and towards the door before Nathan regained awareness. You felt his hand swipe at you, just narrowly missing your wrist.

Unlocking the door, you escaped into the hallway. You quickly crossed your arms over your bare chest, barely remembering to cover yourself before you sprinted down the stairs. You were a sight to behold: shirt ripped in half, a bruised and tear stained cheek, and wild eyes. You desperately looked around for any of the boys, knowing Nathan would be following behind you at any moment. More tears began to fall as you searched the house, squeezing past the same sweaty bodies you were laughing with earlier. You were rounding the corner to the kitchen when you slammed into something solid. Hands quickly gripping your arms to keep you upright. You looked up to find Mark, looking down at you with a smile that quickly dropped when he met your eyes.

“What happened?” He asked, panic finding its way into his voice. You were in hysterics, terrified of Nathan finding you. You were babbling to Mark, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Hey, slow down.” He cooed, a hand finding your shoulder. You jumped at his touch, quickly shoving yourself further into him. Mark wrapped his arms around you. If he wasn’t concerned before, he definitely was now. Looking down at you, he finally noticed the state of your shirt. His heart dropped instantly. He pulled you closer to him to hide you as he looked over his shoulder to the group of boys watching you from the other side of the kitchen.

“Hey! Hughesy!” Mark shouted to Luke from where he held you. “Go find Eddy.”

Luke nodded quickly, taking Rutger with him as he left.

“You’re alright, y/n/n,” Mark rubbed your back, “Luke is going to find E, okay?” You couldn’t do more than nod. Knowing that until your best friend arrived, you weren’t leaving Mark’s arms. A few minutes later, you heard Ethan loudly entering the kitchen. Luke, Rutger, and Duker following closely behind.

“What do you mean she’s crying? I just saw…” Ethan’s loud voice trailed off as he saw you in Mark’s hold, your hands covering your ears as the tears continued to fall. “Fuck,” he breathed.

Ethan quickly approached the two of you, his hand coming to rest lightly on the back of your head. You jumped again, opening your eyes to meet his. You left Mark’s arms immediately, only to run straight to Ethan’s.

“Hey princess, what’s going on?” Using the boys’ shared nickname for you, he began to rub up and down your back. Mark gave him a quick run down of how he found you, and pointing out the state of your tank top. Ethan looked down, and immediately saw red. The hand shaped bruise on your cheek and shredded material of your shirt told him everything he needed to know. But he wouldn’t move without your confirmation.

Ethan leaned down further to reach your ear, “I know you’re scared, but I’ve got you y/n/n. I need you to tell me what happened.”

You looked up at him then, seeing the hard set of his clenched jaw as he took in your tear stained cheeks.

“He touched me.” You barely whispered, throat raw from crying. Ethan’s anger only grew as you confirmed his suspicions.

“Who?” He asked.

“The guy from the game last week.”

Ethan remembered. The asshole had threatened him when you left for the bathroom, and Ethan had ran him off. He looked up, searching the room for Nathan’s face. He could still feel you trembling in his arms.

“I hit him,” you managed to make out. Ethan’s head snapped back to you, brows furrowed.

“That’s how I got away,” you mumbled, “he was bleeding.” Ethan’s heart broke at the weakness in your voice. You were never a violent person, and for someone to drive you to that point… Ethan was going to kill him.

Mark and the other boys were on standby, waiting for Ethan’s plan.

“Where was he y/n/n? We’re going to handle this.” Ethan questioned, glancing towards Mark to indicate his next move was to find the little bitch.

“Upstairs.”

Ethan nodded, turning to Mark and instructing him to find the guys who weren’t already in the kitchen. The boys already gathered there had unintentionally formed a circle around you, guarding you from prying eyes. Ethan had them all turn around as he shucked off the sweatshirt he was wearing and slipped it over you to cover your exposed front. You would’ve said thank you, but you didn’t need to.

Mark finally returned with the rest of the guys, and Ethan began forming a course of action. You watched as he assessed the team that had assembled.

“E, please don’t leave.” You begged, your hands balling up the material of his shirt. Your voice becoming unsteady again at the thought of being alone.

“I’m not gonna leave you alone princess, but I’ve gotta go handle this. Can you stay with Luca? Just for a few minutes, I promise.” You looked to your right, where Luca stood waiting with his arms open and a comforting smile gracing his features. You nodded to Ethan, and he released his grip on you as you moved towards the freshman.

Luca quickly wrapped you up in his arms again, giving you a sense of protection. Rutger, Adam, and Duker were going to stay with you while Ethan took Mark, Luke, and Moyle with him to find Nathan. You watched as Ethan whispered something to Adam on his way out of the kitchen.

“We’ve got her man.” Adam nodded to Ethan, confirming that they wouldn’t let you out of their sight. Luca was backed into a corner of the kitchen with you in his arms, the other three boys in front of you blocking you from the rest of the party.

“You want to go somewhere less crowded?” Luca whispered to you. You nodded, not trusting your voice. The boys began to lead you out of the kitchen to the back patio, before sliding the door closed behind you all.

You’re unsure how long you stood outside in Luca’s arms, unsure how long you listened to him make small talk with Adam and Duker. But after a while their soft whispers and the soft thump of Luca’s heartbeat lulled you into a more languid state. Eventually Ethan returned with Mark, but Luke and Moyle no where to be found. You tried to ignore the bruises already gracing Ethan’s knuckles as he ran a hand down your arm. A silent conversation passed between the boys around you, as Ethan pulled you from Luca’s arms.

“Come on, princess. Let’s go get you fixed up, yeah?” You nodded, numbly. The alcohol had long since worn off, and your drunken state was replaced with a lethargic drag. The fact that it was almost 3 in the morning didn’t help.

Ethan practically carried you through the house and towards the stairs. The freshman broke off to begin clearing the remaining party-goers from the living room, and you saw Luke and Moyle re-entering the house as you passed by the front door. Ethan must have had them on escort duty, a nice way of saying they kicked Nathan out on his ass after whatever occurred upstairs. They gave Ethan a tight nod and then followed behind you up the stairs. When you reached the top, Ethan began leading you towards his room. Your eyes widened as you took in the blood stained carpet and the hockey stick lying beside it. Ethan could feel you tense up in his arms as you silently begged him not to take you in there. Feeling you turn towards him in his arms, he looked down at you and placed a hand on your non-bruised cheek.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to go in there,” Ethan assured. He had been beyond pissed when he followed the blood trail into his room. Not because it would stain the carpet, but because it filled him with impossible guilt. Though he knew it wasn’t his fault, the fact that he wasn’t able to protect you in his own home, his own room. It filled him with rage.

“She can sleep in my room tonight, I don’t mind to take the couch.” Mark offered instead, opening the door and ushering you and Ethan through. Once you were settled on the edge of the bed, Mark turned to leave. He closed the door behind him, letting you know they’d be waiting outside.

Once the door was shut, Ethan turned to you silently. Kneeling down in front of where you sat at the end of the bed, he took your hands in his.

“Look at me princess,” Ethan all but whispered. The emotion of the night finally catching up with him, he feared you might break if he spoke any louder.

You finally lifted your teary eyes to meet his, inhaling sharply at the devastation set in his features. His hand came up to brush strands of hair out of your face. You winced slightly as his hand pasted over the bruise from the blow Nathan had dealt you, and Ethan’s jaw tightened.

“He’ll never even look at you again, I promise. I’ll kill him if he even tries.” Ethan swore, trying to remain gentle despite the anger still coursing through him. Silent tears began streaming down your face for what felt like the millionth time.

“I’m sorry, “ you muttered to him through your tears, hands tightening around his. Ethan’s brows furrowed as you continued.

“I was drunk and maybe he thought-“

“Absolutely not,” Ethan cut you off, “you’re not in the wrong here. He had no right to put his hands on you no matter how drunk you are or the level of interest you expressed. If you looked anything like how I found you downstairs it should’ve been obvious to him that you didn’t want that. He knew what he was doing princess, this isn’t your fault.” You nodded your head, leaning down to wrap your arms around Ethan’s neck. He moved to sit on the bed, allowing you to rest in his lap as you trembled.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Ethan mumbled into your hair. You shook your head, removing your head from his neck to look at him.

“Not your fault, you didn’t know,” you mumbled, “thank you for protecting me.”

“Always, princess.”

———

That night you slept in Mark’s room with Ethan next to you, drowning in various pieces of clothing the boys lent you for the night. Mark took Ethan’s room instead of the couch, after 20 minutes of you insisting that he was too tall to sleep on the couch.

The next morning, you woke up to the boys (attempting) to make breakfast for you downstairs. As you watched them struggled, Luca texted to let you know he was already out getting a backup breakfast for when they inevitably burned the pancakes. You smiled slightly at your friends thoughtfulness. He returned with your favorite coffee and bagel order from the shop down the street just as the other boys finally gave up on their culinary dreams.

“Hey,” Duker pouted from his place in front of the stove, “I thought you had more faith in us than that.”

You laughed at his feigned hurt, rising from your seat to thank him for his attempt. You ate your bagel as the boys found their own various breakfast replacements, and you all spent the morning laughing in the kitchen over stories. No one brought up the previous night, and you knew no one would make you talk about it if you didn’t want to. But you didn’t fail to notice how Ethan stood a bit closer than normal, and how Mark and Luke were always between you and the door. Eventually you’d tell them about it - probably Ethan first -but not today.

Though you were still a bit paranoid, something you knew wouldn’t go away anytime soon, your heart was full of love for your boys. Knowing the extents to which they’d go to protect you made you love them all the more.

#umich wolverines #umich hockey #ethan edwards #luca fantilli #mark estapa #hockey

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cheesybadgers · 4 months

Text

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

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Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 7,356

Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.

Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.

Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.

I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake

A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.

Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.

If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.

Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.

Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.

He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.

Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.

He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.

“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”

“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”

Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.

Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”

“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”

“I did warn you.”

“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”

“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”

“The Mareco?”

“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”

Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”

“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”

“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”

“About what?”

“About how you developed a problem with authority.”

“What’s your excuse then?”

“What can I say? I was led astray.”

It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.

“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”

“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”

“Maybe you were my exception too.”

A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.

"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”

Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”

By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.

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Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.

Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.

As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.

The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.

“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”

“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”

“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”

She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.

Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.

“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”

“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”

“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”

Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.

“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”

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It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.

The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.

Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.

“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.

“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”

“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”

Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.

They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.

“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.

Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”

“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”

Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”

“He’s not the only one.”

Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.

“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.

“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.

“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”

Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.

Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.

Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.

“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.

“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.

“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.

“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.

“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”

“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”

“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”

Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.

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Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.

Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.

“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.

At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”

Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.

“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”

“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”

Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.

Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.

Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.

As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home.

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Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.

“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.

“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”

“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”

Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.

“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.

“You had a good teacher.”

“So did you.”

“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”

“Like our Christmas tamales.”

“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”

“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”

Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.

“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.

“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”

“What?”

“You must’ve heard the arguments?”

“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”

“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”

“That’s what it was about?”

“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”

“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”

“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”

“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.

Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.

“How did you know?”

“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”

Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.

“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”

“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”

Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”

Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.

“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.

“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.

“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.

“He does.”

“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”

Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.

“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”

“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”

“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”

“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”

“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”

Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, you were there a whole year?”

“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”

“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”

“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.

“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”

Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”

“Does it?”

“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”

“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”

“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”

“It was killing you.”

“I know.”

“And Papá would have told you the same.”

A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”

“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”

“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”

But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.

“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”

“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”

Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.

He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.

“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”

“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”

“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”

“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”

“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”

“You never said anything.”

Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”

Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”

It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”

“I don’t just mean the ambush.”

“I know,” she said briskly.

But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.

“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”

“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”

“Are you mad?”

“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”

An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.

“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”

“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”

��Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”

“We will, I promise.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”

“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”

“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”

“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.

Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”

“How did –?”

She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”

Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.

“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”

“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”

“Something like that.”

Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.

------------------------------------------------------

Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.

That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.

A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.

“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.

“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”

“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.

“Fuck you.”

Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.

Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”

“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.

“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.

“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”

“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”

“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."

------------------------------------------------------

It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.

The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.

“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”

“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.

“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.

“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”

Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.

“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”

“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”

Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.

She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”

Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”

“Guest’s choice.”

He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.

That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.

“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”

“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”

Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”

“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”

“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”

“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”

“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”

“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.

“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”

“Again, I’m not surprised.”

“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”

The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.

“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”

“He thought it was his duty."

“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.

“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.

Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”

“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”

Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.

“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”

“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.

“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”

Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”

“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”

“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”

“Maybe.”

“Drink up.”

Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”

Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”

Javier gasped. “There are?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”

“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."

“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”

“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”

“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.

She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)

“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”

“A fair demand.”

“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”

“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.

His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”

For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.

But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”

Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.

But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.

Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.

“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”

Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.

“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”

He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.

“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”

At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”

“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.

She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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sunderlust · 2 years

Text

this is me trying ii (rooster x reader)

masterlist part 1 | part 2 | part 3 pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader synopsis: bradley bradshaw is the bane of your existence on north island - you finally got a chance to tell him off for giving you a hard time, but the guilt is weighing down on you and making it harder for you to deal with your ongoing existential crisis. maybe all it takes is a volleyball game and a heart to heart to make you see clearly... (read p1 first i'm begging you) warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, later explicit sexual activity, lots of existential dread, volleyball shenanigans, hiking, hangman no use of y/n, one small mention of suicidal thoughts near the very end note: seasonsbloom and gretagerwigsmuse - i love u both forever i dedicate everything to you both. also full disclaimer I don't know anything about volleyball or the sunset cliffs hiking trail lol. wc: 9k (holy fucking shit sorry y'all I just may'd)

The first thing you feel Thursday night is relief - ever since you moved to this stupid city, the weight of holding back all your anger and annoyance with Bradley had returned in full force. After your fight with him, you feel a fifty-ton weight lift from your shoulders; you can breathe for the first time in two weeks.

“I told Bradley off,” you tell Cam and Cher casually after dinner. They both share a weird look, waiting for you to elaborate. “He’s been giving me a hard time at Java. Coming in with ridiculous orders and mocking me and tipping large amounts just to make fun of me. And he thinks he can tell me it’s just teasing between friends?! Since when were we friends?”

On Friday morning, when 6:30 rolls around with Bradley being a no-show, you feel unease settle over you. It’s minuscule - it feels like you’re carrying an obese cat on your shoulders - but it’s noticeable. And as the day goes on, you start to mull over yesterday’s debacle, wondering if you were a little too harsh.

You waste your weekend thinking about it more, replaying your words, recalling every single detail. Each time you restart the memory, your stomach sinks lower when you see Bradley’s crestfallen and shocked expression. The obese cat grows bigger, and your anxiety makes you feel smaller.

On Sunday night, you groan and collapse on the loveseat in Cam’s living room with a languid sigh. Cher’s lounging on the L-shaped couch reading on her iPad, while Cam’s puttering around in the kitchen.

“I don’t know how much more water I can tread, guys.” you groan and bury your face into a soft velvet throw pillow.

“Can I be frank with you?” Cher asks, switching her tablet off and setting it aside.

“Always,” you nod as best as you can, voice muffled by the fabric.

“You need another outlet.”

You lift your head from the velvet. “What kind of outlet can I find on this stupid island? No offense,” you add. “I thought I could get by doing nothing, but I finished all of the Stranger Kids show and a bunch of Academy Award winners that I’ve missed and I almost got sucked into something called Bridgerton-”

“You need a physical outlet,” Cher interrupts, smiling comfortingly.

You sigh again. “Years at a desk job have completely wrecked my ankles too much for me to go on long morning jogs again. Like, if I did a deep squat right now, my heels are going to lift so high I’ll tip over like a fucking cow. And I know you told me to do yoga with Cam, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday - I need to sleep in on the weekends.”

Cam comes in and plops themself down in their favorite armchair facing the TV. “I wasn’t going to suggest yoga again. But my friend Natasha from class asked if I knew anyone who played volleyball, and you were the first person to come to mind. They’re playing tomorrow evening.”

You gape at them. “I haven’t played in years. I think the last time I touched a volleyball was at a company team retreat a few years back, and I was just a spectator tossing it back to the cutie from the web team.”

“The cutie from GUI,” Cher dreamily breathes out, laughing as she dodges the throw pillow you launch at her face.

“Come on!” Cam implores. “You were great at intramural volleyball back in undergrad! And it’s just casual, they need someone to even out the teams so no one sits out. They’ll buy you drinks afterward - guaranteed.”

You mull over the idea in your mind. Who in their sound mind would NOT want to meet a bunch of strangers and fumble through a sport they haven’t played in years?

Although, you would love to be able to get out of the house and into the sunshine again without feeling the overwhelming anxiety of doing things on your own. A week ago, you’d bookmarked the Sunset Cliffs Natural Park over on Point Loma, west of North Island. But hiking on your own felt too intimidating, and you hadn’t gotten around to asking Cher and Cam to join.

Maybe this was another saving grace - another opportunity falling into your lap to do something new and push yourself out of your comfort zone. A chance to do something meaningful, to make friends outside of Cam and Cher so you could stop mooching off of them and draining their energy. Because as much as you knew they loved you and were happy to host you, there was still that small part of you that insisted they were counting down the days for you to leave.

Worst case? You fumble the ball and never have to see these people again. Best case? Maybe you make some friends, burn some energy, and potentially google hot people on the beach, bumping and setting the ball in slow motion like they’re on Baywatch.

Yeah, that last point is rather convincing.

“Alright,” you sigh. “If anything, I’ll spike the ball and pretend it’s Bradshaw’s face.”

Cam and Cher share another weird look.

At 6 PM, you pull into the parking lot for the Hard Deck and immediately spot a gaggle of tall, muscled guys setting up the sand volleyball court boundaries out on the beach. The light of the late afternoon sun glistens off their tanned skin and sends your nerves into a frenzy; you don’t know how you’ll be able to play a casual game of volleyball with the likes of these people.

“Hey! Cam’s friend, right? It’s so great to meet you!” Natasha calls out as you approach her and her SUV. She immediately goes in for a hug, which makes you feel both giddy and incredibly shy as you return it - it feels like it’s been a while since you’ve tried to make a new friend.

“Hi, Natasha, it’s so nice to meet you! Thanks for inviting me, it’s so nice to do something other than Netflix and chill with myself in the evening,” you cringe at yourself. Why the fuck did you say that to another person?

But Natasha shakes her head with a huge, understanding smile. “It’s no biggie - we’ve all just been playing pool over at the Hard Deck and Bob suggested maybe we get some sunlight for once. It’ll be great to work off some tension after work - sorry in advance if anyone’s particularly intense here,” she laughs.

“Oh, what do you all do?” you ask, eyeing one tall, dark-skinned man and how his muscles ripple as he handles a volleyball between two large palms.

“We’re Navy - all of us are pilots,” Natasha says.

Your stomach plummets. Oh fuck. If these guys are all coworkers AND in the Navy AND pilots - well, you didn’t need your stupid engineering degree to do the math. There’s a high probability that someone’s about to make his presence known-

“Yo, Phoenix!” a husky, familiar voice calls out behind you. “Yale said he wouldn’t be able to make it, so we’ll probably have to...” his voice trails off as he recognizes you.

You pause, meeting his gaze through your sunglasses. “Hi, Bradley,” you say, deciding to at least be the bigger person and not outright ignore him.

He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, nodding once your way before redirecting his attention back to Phoenix. “I guess we’re even on teams then. I’ll go help set things up.”

You feel a twinge of something in your chest - almost feeling hurt that he was still so upset with you. But you dismiss it as quickly as it came - you have nothing to feel bad about and apparently, neither does Bradley as he jogs away towards the group around the newly set up court. Natasha looks on with a curious expression before picking up an extra volleyball and leading you to where the rest of the group is.

Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He’s off to the side, tossing a volleyball between both his hands idly and conversing with a man in glasses.

A taller, dark-skinned man approaches the two of you with a broad smile, giving Natasha a high five and you a friendly nod. She’s still explaining the game setup to you. “We’ll have two teams of five, we might switch things around here and there and we might be dicks to each other, but I promise we’ll keep you out of the line of fire. Just look the other way if I start acting like a sore loser.”

“Natasha, I’m not sure if Cam’s mentioned, but my competitiveness in IM volleyball got me ejected from a game after I slammed the ball into another guy’s face. No worries.”

She and the other man laugh, and he reaches a hand out to shake yours. You introduce yourself to him, and he does the same. “Reuben - but call me Payback. And I’m not sure if she’s mentioned, but she goes by Phoenix.”

You’re confused. “Phoenix?”

“It’s her callsign,” he replies as if that explains everything.

“Callsign?” you repeat, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah, it’s like a unique identifier for each of us. We get it assigned to us by our class, usually when we do something stupid in boot camp,” Nat- or, Phoenix explains to you.

“Can’t I just call you all by your real name? Instead of nicknames?”

“Callsigns,” Payback corrects. “And honestly, you could. But it’ll catch us off guard. I mean, if you called out ‘Reuben’ mid-game, I’d probably book it to the ocean because my gut instinct will be telling me that my ex has finally tracked me down to get back the NSYNC CD I stole from her.”

“Poor girl,” you muse, and he laughs.

“Come on, we’ll introduce you to everyone and you’ll have everyone’s sign down in no time! We’ll only be using those so you’ll get confused if you don’t know them.”

He and Phoenix walk you over to a tall, blond Adonis. Like the others, he’s shirtless, tanned, and muscled. You wonder if he could crack walnuts with his biceps. “This is Jake, or ‘Bagman’-”

“Hangman,” the Ken doll says, rubbing the stubble along his jawline which is tightly clenched as he surveys the game being set up. He looks over at you briefly to nod once. “Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t mind him,” Phoenix tells you with an eye roll. “He’s hung up on his girl, but she’s not talking to him.”

You nod, only half paying attention now that you’ve caught sight of Bradley making his way over to your gaggle of three. You can’t read his expression thanks to the trusty Ray Bans he’s wearing, but his strut is as cocky as ever.

“Hangman has a girl?” Payback asks just as Bradley reaches earshot.

“Oh yeah, Penny’s tutor friend? Hangman spilled a mojito on her after Dogfight the other day. Poor girl looked terrified.” Bradley teases and smacks Hangman on the back. The others laugh along at a stoic-faced Hangman whose cheeks have slightly flushed.

“You pilots really seem to have a knack for tormenting innocent women,” you blurt out, narrowing your eyes at the three boys. Bradley’s eyebrows furrow right back.

“Guess we do,” he says shortly.

Phoenix shifts her eyes between the two of you before clearing her throat. “This is Bradley - I suppose you already know. We call him Rooster.”

“Rooster? That’s your callsign?” you ask, incredulously.

“Yeah! Because he looks out for his own,” Payback says in a high-pitched, almost mocking tone. He couples his words with a sharp pinch to Bradley’s cheek, and he abruptly smacks Payback’s hands away.

At long last, Hangman breaks his silence with a loud bark of laughter. “Hold on, do you two know each other?” Hangman asks, a grin replacing his scowl. “Why so tense, Bradshaw? Did she give you the slip in the wee hours of the morning?”

“Shut up,” Rooster threatens at the same time that you say, “We were at UVA together.”

You blink, feeling slightly hurt for a second before realizing he definitely wouldn’t care enough to tell his Navy buddies about his old college friend who hypothetically got dropped from her hotshot engineering job and was now in Fightertown. You try your best to swallow the lump that still appears in your throat.

A beat of silence follows. “Apparently, we’re arch nemeses,” Bradley says bitterly, and you’re pretty sure you catch him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.

You narrow your eyes. “Always so dramatic, huh, Bradley?”

“Me? I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who said it! This is some real pot-meet-kettle crap, Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?” Phoenix deadpans, looking at you sympathetically. You beat Bradley to answer.

“It’s a stupid joke he’s kept going for fifteen years because Bradley’s quite skilled at never letting things go!” you spit out.

“Oh, don’t we know it?” Hangman says under his breath before Bradley can retort, then swiftly catches a volleyball from someone over by the court. He crooks one finger in your direction. “We’ll have to call you Buttercup - both because it might piss off Rooster over here, and because I didn’t catch your name.”

“Jake,” Bradley says warningly, but Hangman’s jogged away before he can get another word out.

Stupid Rooster. And even stupider Hangman.

Volleyball starts easy enough once you’re introduced to the rest of the team. Phoenix keeps you on her team along with Fanboy, an intimidatingly handsome man who goes by Coyote, and a really sweet, round-faced man wearing glasses named Bob. Bradley sticks to the other side, trying hard not to look annoyed with Hangman ordering his teammates around.

“So you’re Bradley’s friend? Ow!” Coyote starts to ask, but Phoenix cuts him off by elbowing him in the side.

“No, she’s my friend. I met her through someone from yoga.” She gives him a hard look. “That’s right, I know people outside of you creeps.”

Coyote furrows his brow. “When do you have the time to go to yoga? And do they have any open spots? Preferably a mat right behind you, Phoe- Jesus!” Coyote rubs the back of his head where Bob’s initial practice serve had landed.

“Sorry!” he calls out, but you can see the curve of a smile on his face as he turns away from Coyote’s glare. You like Bob.

Once everyone’s in position, Bob makes the first serve - this time a perfect one that arcs the ball over the net and into Payback’s waiting hands. He bumps it over the net, and the game continues.

The sun beats down on you as you play into the evening. You try your hardest not to ogle the guys around you - or Natasha, for that matter - and it’s relatively easy once you start focusing on the game. But unexplainably, every single time Bradley leaps up to spike the ball, you feel a jolt of excitement at the sight of his abs clenching and his bicep muscles rippling in slow motion. It’s all tan skin and toned calves and bulging biceps and-

Your train of thought is interrupted by Bob calling out “Buttercup, eyes up!”

You swiftly bounce back into motion, bumping the ball over to Phoenix, who slams the ball over the net. Close one. And that’s another thing - you’ve adjusted shockingly well to your honorary callsign as every one of your teammates decides to use it, even Natasha a few times (you only feel slightly betrayed at that).

They reshuffle the groups every game and somewhere along the line, Bradley’s suddenly on your team. You resign yourself to staying as far away from him as possible and let him take the front line and you linger towards the back, and for the most part, your team works like a well-oiled machine.

You’re surprised at how well Bradley can predict your next move, always positioning himself in the perfect spot to catch your set and spike it over the net. It’s like years of verbal sparring somehow prepared you for this moment to absolutely annihilate Hangman’s team together at volleyball. After one particularly spectacular play, you lock eyes with him and marvel at how in sync the two of you are. Mindlessly, you offer him a double thumbs up.

Jesus Christ, you’re a dork, you think to yourself before Bradley enthusiastically throws up a goofy thumbs up in return.

After Coyote’s attempt to save the ball ended with him diving and skidding into the sand, the opposing team wins the game point. “Alright, I think I’m gonna call it,” he says loudly and stands up to brush the sand off his knees.

You look up and finally realize just how much time has passed. The sun’s making its way down the horizon, and the sky has transformed into a beautiful spectrum of orange and pink hues scattered across the wide expanse. The Hard Deck behind you is already lit with colorful LEDs, and the parking lot is a few cars fuller as more locals make their way in for evening drinks.

Natasha, who had already relocated to the other team earlier, raises both hands in the air. “I’m still down for a game or two! Bob?”

“You guys go ahead,” Bob says, wiping at his glasses. “I gotta rinse the sand off these, I can’t see shit.” As he makes his way back to the cars, he holds his hand out for you to slap your palm into for a quick low five. A couple of other pilots agree to make their way in for drinks, except Hangman.

“I’m game.” - “I’ll play.” you and Bradley both say at the same time, then eye each other curiously. He’s finally removed his sunglasses and you observe how his light brown eyes shine in the evening light. Somehow, his mustache has bits of sand stuck into it from his many dives to the ground.

You know you’re not much better off - you’ll be scraping sand out from your scalp for days after this.

“I’ll play with Phoenix,” Hangman proclaims, and tosses a ball over to Bradley. “Losers can serve this time.”

Everyone else rolls their eyes. “You uh... You want to start?” Bradley turns to you, idly tossing the ball in the air. “I mean, serve?”

You nod your head and he passes it to you to begin the game. Somehow, you and Bradley work even better as a team of two without the extra people to keep track of. Neither of you even has to call out your next move - both just instinctively making way for the other when Nat or Hangman sends the ball barrelling over the net. It’s easy, effortless, something you never really felt with Bradley until you opened yourself up to working together with him.

“Heads up!” Bradley calls out and passes the ball to you, setting you up for a nice spike that wins you the game. “Nice one, Buttercup!”

After celebrating your victory with Rooster with an awkward high five that you can still feel vibrating in your right hand, you make your way back up to the Hard Deck. Natasha is toweling off sand near her car and she holds out a water bottle as you approach, which you accept gratefully.

“Thanks for coming. I know it was late notice, but the guys really liked you,” she grins as you chug half of the water in record time.

“I had a great time!” you tell her and screw the cap back on. “I really can’t express enough how much I appreciate the invite and getting to know you all. You all are so welcoming - i-it just means a lot to me, being new here and all.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then looks at you with what you can best describe as a guilty expression. “I’ve gotta be honest because I feel bad about hiding things. Cam and I may have conspired to bring you here to make nice with Bradley.”

Your heart sinks. “What?” you ask numbly,

She slams the trunk of her SUV shut before responding. “Hear me out - Cam’s a really good friend. I met them back when I was at TOP GUN for the first time. And now we’ve been catching up over yoga and they told me about your whole thing with Rooster - I mean, Bradley - from your college days. And I thought it was funny, honestly, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me that he was a little shit back then.

“But I know something happened between the two of you last week,” she says, and you stiffen. “Because Bradley’s going through some rough shit with this mission, but he was worse than usual last Thursday. And I wasn’t sure what could’ve caused it - I thought it was the same shit with our instructor or something. But then he got super wasted back at base and was just moping around about some Buttercup or whatever and I put together the bits and pieces. Long story short, this mission is so fucking crucial. It’s life or death, and we need the best of the best to be on their A-game, and that especially includes Rooster.

“Plus, Cam thinks you should let bygones be bygones for the sake of your journey - which I don’t know many details about and I’m not going to pry, but I trust them. So yeah, I suggested volleyball to the team, and conveniently, Yale wasn’t able to make it so I offered to have you sub in, and here we are now,” she finishes quickly, still looking nervous.

You breathe in heavily, leaning against her car and mulling over her words. “I don’t... I’m not sure what I can do with him.”

“For what it’s worth, you two seemed to make a really good team near the end there. Maybe you can go smooth things over with him now,” she gestures to where Bradley is currently sitting on one of the wooden beach chairs in the sand.

You settle an unimpressed look on her and she hastily corrects herself. “Like - not that you’ve done anything wrong to smooth things over. Just... Look, I think he just feels really bad about it - as he should! - but he’s definitely too embarrassed to approach you, let alone apologize out of the blue for how things went down. And maybe if you just go over there, he’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you what he said to me Friday night.”

“What did he say Friday night?” you quirk an eyebrow.

She sighs. “I’d love to tell you, girl, but it’s not my place. Just talk to him?”

You nod, crossing your arms. “I’m not entirely thrilled that you and Cam tried to be all sneaky,” Natasha has the decency to look a little ashamed. “But I understand why. And I mean... At this point, I’m tired of being in this weird limbo with him.”

She nods in understanding. “No matter what happens, it’ll be okay. I owe you a mint g&t afterward!”

“Sounds great. Wait, how do you know I drink-” you start, but Phoenix is already walking towards the Hard Deck with a sly grin on her face.

“Good luck, Buttercup!” she calls out before disappearing around the corner of the building.

You sigh again and shoot a glance over to where Bradley’s still sitting, still staring at the sky changing colors over the horizon. It’s now or never, you think, then silently berate yourself for thinking something so cliche. Taking another deep breath, you make your way across the beach to the unoccupied chair under the umbrella.

“Hey,” you come up behind him, wavering to see if he’s going to dismiss you or let him join him.

He looks up, and you try to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach when his warm, chocolate eyes meet your nervous gaze. Why isn’t he being a regular douche and wearing his sunglasses? “Hi, Buttercup.”

You shuffle your feet around slightly, shifting your eyes around to avoid that weird feeling again. Maybe you’re just hungry. “Mind if I join you?”

He extends a hand out to gesture toward the empty chair to his right. “By all means.”

You mumble a quick “thanks” and plop down in the seat next to him. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you - to pass the time, you look up at the multi-colored umbrella above you and count how many different colored stripes there are.

You’re at four reds when Bradley breaks the silence. “‘Bane of your existence', huh?” he says with a crooked smile. “What is this, Bridgerton?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“Bridgerton on Netflix? Season 2? Anthony and Kate?”

You look over at him with an incredulous look. “You’ve seen that entire show?” you deadpan.

He stretches his legs out, brushing some sand from his knees absentmindedly. “I mean... Yeah. Love me some Shonda. No Grey’s for me though - couldn’t get past season 2.”

You snort, looking over at him. “I don’t think I’ve managed to finish a show at all in the last five years. My job was always... Well, either way, I just finished Stranger Things on Saturday. Bridgerton might be next.”

“It’s pretty good.” He bounces his head in a nod, looking back out at the horizon. Another few beats of silence pass, and you struggle to find the exact words you want to say. But it seems like Natasha was right about him after all because Bradley beats you to the punch before you can open your mouth. “Listen, I just... I feel terrible about what happened in college. And I know I was all petty and mean earlier today and I don’t want to just make excuses for my actions. Shit, I want to keep myself accountable but I never could have imagined I was making you feel that way in college. And especially here, you know?”

You chew your lower lip and tightly grip the armrests of the chair nervously. “I just... I shouldn’t have blown up at you on Thursday-”

He’s shaking his head. “No, no, I totally deserved that-”

“I just got so angry-”

“As you should be-”

“And things have just been so hard lately-”

“I’m really sorry about that, I had no business trying to pry-”

“Jesus Christ, let me finish, Bradley!” you interrupt loudly. He shrinks back and you rub your temples warily.

“That’s what she said,” he mumbles and you look at him incredulously.

A burst of laughter falls from your lips. “Are you twelve?” you ask through a giggle and he breaks out into a wide smile.

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you speak. My lips are sealed,” he mimes sealing them with an imaginary key and then throwing it behind him. Your eyes linger over the small crinkles by his eyes as he’s smiling, and you quickly snap them back to the sand in front of you, choosing your next words carefully.

“I guess... Well, first things first you should know that I quit my job.”

Bradley looks shocked. "What?! At Java-"

"No, not Java Roasters. I mean my job in Raleigh," you huff out and lean all the way back so that your head rests against the wood. His eyes are trained on you, unblinking.

“Why?” he asks.

"I quit... because I hated it. I hated the daily minutia of logging onto a computer and attending stupid morning meetings and reporting my stupid project progress and pretending my work is meaningful- I just... I couldn't do it anymore.”

Bradley’s gaze is still focused solely on you. It feels less intense now, less nerve-wracking than it’s ever felt before. Like there’s no judgment or threat of mocking, just Bradley listening like you’re telling him the most riveting tale and not the story of how everything is falling apart. He hums, encouraging you to continue.

“I remember the moment I made the decision so clearly. Like on my way back from work, driving down I-40 and I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life that way like a... Like a blur. I don’t even recall the last time I picked up a book for fun or got into a tv show or followed one of my passions.”

You pause to take a breath, feeling the returning lump in your throat become increasingly hard to swallow as you realize just how vulnerable you’re becoming. “So I quit. Called up all my friends and Camila was the only one to offer me something that wasn’t another job in the field that literally burned me out. So I’m here now. Just a failure, but at least I didn’t get fired,” you joke, turning away to wipe the one tear that’s fallen down your right cheek.

“Hey, it’s fine, it’s okay,” you hear Bradley say and suddenly his hand is there - open-faced on your left armrest, not touching you in the slightest. An invitation. A peace offering. A symbol of support. You hesitate for a moment before grasping his hand with your left, squeezing lightly. He continues, “Nothing about this tells me you’re a failure. I never even thought that word was in your vocabulary.”

“You know, you learn something new every day,” you reply through a soggy giggle. He chuckles and squeezes his hand twice. “I don’t know. Back in undergrad, I thought this was what I wanted. Working for a big-shot company with cutting-edge tech. Then I just got pigeonholed into doing the same thing over and over again, and the work was rarely that stimulating.

“Anyways,” you continue. “I guess I just wanted to explain myself and why I’m here now. And Cam says I’ve been holding onto the past for too long, so I guess that’s why everything just all came out last Thursday. I’m sorry - you didn’t deserve me yelling at you like that.”

Bradley’s been attentive, nodding throughout your spiel and holding onto your hand tightly. When you gesture for him to say his piece, he clears his throat and removes his hand from your grasp. You ignore how cold your fingers feel now and shove them under your thigh.

“I never knew there was a different side to our... relationship. I always figured it was friendly competition like we were just pushing each other. And honestly, I think it got me through some of my gen eds because I studied so hard into the night trying to impress you-”

“Impress me?” you ask, partly from shock. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. You were smart and so sincere about school and it was always so inspiring, I wanted to do the same. Maybe you’d think I was... cool. I guess” You let his words sit in the air, looking back on every single interaction with him from undergrad that you can remember.

Because you can’t remember him being malicious, or him being cruel or mean. If you took off your Petty Goggles™, you can see that maybe he never meant to talk to you in a mocking, demeaning way. Maybe.

“I’m sorry,” Bradley goes on. “I never meant to give you a hard time in college. I wish I saw how my teasing affected you earlier and I wish I was observant enough to realize you never played along, you always just sort of... took it. That’s not fair to you at all. And I wish I hadn't been so obnoxious and fallen back into old habits this past week. I’m just really sorry. And moving forward I’d like to be more self-aware.”

You nod, cracking a half smile. “You were pretty fucking obnoxious. Caramel in matcha sounds terrible.”

“It’s incredible,” he defends. “And just for the record, I finished every single drink you made for me. You’re doing amazing as a barista so far, sweetheart.”

The two of you laugh, and you feel so much lighter. At this moment, you think that maybe you and Bradley could be friendly - at least, you definitely could leave the past in the past and get a fresh start just like you were hoping to do when you came to North Island. Let go of this stuff with Bradley and get to know him for who he is.

“Listen... If you’re willing, I-I’d like to have a fresh start?” he says, and he stumbles over the words clumsily, like he’s rehearsed them like he’s hoping you won’t turn him down.

You smile. “Yeah. I think I’d like that, Bradley.”

Bradley beams at you - oh fuck, there’s that weird nauseating feeling in your gut - and you hesitantly smile right back. “Let’s head back inside. I’ll get you a drink,” he starts to stand.

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Thought you wanted me to cover the next drink? You know, with my big STEMinist paycheck?”

He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and turns his head up to the sky before exhaling with a pained smile. “I’m quite a jackass, aren’t I?”

You roll your eyes and laugh before turning around and making your way through the cool sand. Your heart feels full - ten sizes bigger. “You seem like a good guy now, Bradshaw.”

“Listen, Buttercup,” Bradley said at post-volleyball drinks, right as he was getting up to leave for the night. “I know you’re an organized girl and you like to keep things up to date - which is why I must inform you that whatever number you have under my name in your phone is most definitely out of date.”

“I’d honestly be impressed if you still had the same number fifteen years later,” you laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, well if you want to reach out to me for any reason, here you go,” he slides over a bar napkin with hastily scribbled digits on it. “Just - save me under my real name? Not like ‘Satan’s Spawn’ or ‘My Worst Nightmare’.”

“Both are accurate,” you say, pulling out your phone. “I believe I had you under ‘El Diablo’ back then.”

“The devil- Oh REAL clever.”

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting Bradley more often than you ever thought you would - which to be fair is a low bar, seeing as you never thought you’d even reply to one of his texts. It’s sporadic since you know he’s busy preparing for a mission of some sort on base (he and Natasha didn’t elaborate much more on it during drinks) but he makes an effort to keep the conversation going throughout the day and into the late hours of the night when his replies are longer and more frequent.

He invites you out to the Hard Deck on Wednesday evening, and you stay to talk late into the night until last call, talking about what you both have done since graduating and gossiping about old college friends. You’re both careful not to discuss what happened during college, your plans, or Bradley’s upcoming dangerous mission - for now, it’s just casual comfortable conversation. You’re becoming friends.

Somehow, you finally feel at peace with being right where you are - just working at the coffee shop and being friends with Bradley and doing things other than catching up on tv shows. You shoot out emails to your old favorite professors and former colleagues, asking for guidance on what you can do next in your career, and for the first time, you feel hopeful about your future.

You’ve advanced from treading water to doing a nice, comfortable backstroke. And it feels like it’ll be clear skies for some time.

Saturday evening at around 5 PM, after you’ve listened to a motivational podcast and finished chores and your weekly laundry, your phone lights up with a call from Lieutenant Gallo.

“Buttercup!” he sings out as soon as you answer. “What are you doing right now?”

“Um,” you eye your empty kitchen sink, the spotless floors, and the crumb-free kitchen countertops. “Nothing. Just finished my laundry and some other chores.”

“Oh perfect! I’m pulling up at your house in two minutes.”

“I- what? Who gave you my address?”

“Nat, who got it from Cam. You can yell at them later! Just change into something comfortable and wear tennis shoes.” He hangs up.

Ten minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of Bradley’s Ford Bronco. As soon as you slid into the vehicle, he shoved a paper bag towards you and an iced coffee from Starbucks (“Sorry for the betrayal, sweetheart, if only Java wasn’t closed on the weekends”).

“Pulling out all the stops, huh?” you asked, breaking off a piece of a blueberry scone and popping it into your mouth.

“Well, you’ll need your energy,” he says vaguely and smiles at you through the side of his sunglasses.

While you finish off your drink, you survey your enemy-turned-friend in the driver’s seat. Bradley’s right elbow is propped up on the middle console, his left hand extended to grip the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock position. The black, sleeveless athletic top is painfully well-fitted and accentuates his stupid muscles. Your eyes catch the way his bicep tenses when he maneuvers a left turn, the way the cords in his forearm clench when he takes a sip of his caramel matcha monstrosity. There’s some old song from the ‘80s playing at low volume on the radio, and your gaze travels to how his long fingers tap out the beat on the console.

He’s so fucking pretty. And suddenly you’re going through your mental Rolodex of conversation starters, going through all the possible cool things you could say because holy fuck do you want to try and impress him right now. Or make him smile or laugh or maybe reach over and grab your hand again like he did on the beach

“Sorry, my A/C’s busted,” he interrupts your train of thought. He’d rolled the windows down earlier for which you were grateful - despite it being late afternoon, it was still incredibly hot.

“Eh, it’s better for the environment to roll the windows down,” you reply. “I mean - to a certain extent. Like I heard at higher speeds it’s not super fuel efficient because it causes more drag for the car and- well, I’m sure you know about that, being a pilot and all. Never-”

“No no, keep going,” he says and you swear his mustache quirks up with his smile. “It’s not like I’m rolling down the windows in a F/A-18. I like hearing you STEMsplain it, Buttercup.”

“Shut up,” you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks that must have something to do with the sun. You can’t be this nervous around a guy who almost fainted during his first keg stand. “So can you at least tell me where we are?”

He heaves out a dramatic sigh. “Well, right now, we’re in San Diego-”

“Bradley, I swear I’ll jump out of this car-” you threaten through a laugh.

“We’ll be there in two minutes, Buttercup, jeez! We’re near Point Loma, though, and that’s all I’ll tell you.”

Three minutes later, Bradley drives past a sign reading Sunset Cliffs Natural Park - and your heartbeat quickens.

You didn’t even think he heard you offhandedly mentioning your plan to check out the short trail up near here but not wanting to go alone. Your long-winded spiel had been interrupted on Monday by Jake loudly calling you two over to watch his winning 9-ball move (he’d missed the pocket entirely, but that’s beside the point).

Bradley pulling out all the stops today just makes it difficult to hate him, impossible to be annoyed with how he was before because you can tell he’s trying so hard to make it up to you and be a better friend. You resolve to do the same for him some time - maybe you’ll attempt to craft the matcha monstrosity after all.

“I got water and sunscreen in the back - it’s just like an hour to hike but I know you said you wanted to try something new here, so...” he seems a little nervous now, not meeting your eyes and busying himself with what’s in the back trunk.

“Thanks, Bradley,” you tell him, and the smile he sends your way finally makes you understand just what Andrew Garfield was waxing poetic about with the shot of espresso nonsense.

The two of you don’t chat much - mainly because the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean drown out anything that isn’t a loud shout, but the silence is comfortable between the two. He lets you lead the way, following behind you and pointing out rocks that might trip you up.

After reaching the turnaround point of the trail, you both settle on a large, flat rock to watch the water over the horizon, the waves forming from far out and crashing onto the side of the cliffs. It’s far too early to see any sunset views, but the sun is still warming your faces and the wind is breezy enough to cool you down without blowing sand into your eyes. It’s quieter here, and you settle into talking about anything and everything, just as you always have this past week.

After an extended beat of silence, you muster up the courage to broach a subject that’s been plaguing your mind. "So what's up with you and your mission instructor?” you hesitantly ask. “Phoenix told me you guys have some beef. Like, really slow-roasted beef. Worse than your shit with pretty boy-"

"Oh my god," Bradley scrubs a hand over his face. "Please don't call Hangman a pretty boy. At the very least, not to his face. He'll never let me hear the end of it."

You giggle and shove his shoulder playfully in response. You don’t push the topic again, instead waiting for him to either accept the ball in his court or just lob a different conversation topic back at you.

"He pulled my papers to the naval academy," Bradley says quietly. "Set me back four years."

“Oh...” you trail off, not sure what to say. “Why would he do that?”

Bradley inhales deeply and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I always knew him as Uncle Pete - or Maverick. He flew with my dad - Goose - and they were really close friends. My mom joked about feeling like a third wheel at times and honestly, I can understand how from what I remember,” he huffs out a laugh, and you smile slightly.

“I was four when my dad died. It was during some training exercise, their plane got caught in a jet stream and they had to eject. Maverick got out fine, my dad-” he cuts off, turning his head away to look at the ocean again.

Feeling the deja vu hit, you hold your hand out, palm facing up. “You don’t have to go into the details,” you say as softly as you can above the sound of the wind and the waves.

When he looks over, the pain in his eyes makes a pit form in your stomach, which is only slightly alleviated by him slipping his large, warm hand into your outstretched one. “No, no, it’s just... It’s been a while since I talked about it. And I’ve just been so angry in class and during training these past few weeks. I don’t know why he’d want to hold me back from making my dad proud. But I just can’t let go of it.”

You squeeze his hand once, letting his words sink in, giving him time to empty all his thoughts. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about listening and supporting people, it’s that you don’t always have to have a response. It’s just about being there.

“I think he just... He didn’t think I could do it,” he goes on. “Or be as good as my dad. And neither he nor my mom wanted me to go into the Navy, but I wanted to for my dad. For Goose.”

A minute passes of silence. He squeezes your hand once, and you take it as a sign to reply. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d be really damn proud of you.”

He shakes his head with a sad smile. “I don’t know. Sometimes I watch how Mav flies and think about how different we are. He’s fast, spontaneous, and reckless to a point. And my dad loved flying with him. I’m cautious - Jake’s already given me a hard time for being too slow. I don’t... I think my dad would’ve wanted me to stop holding back.”

You nod, focusing on the way his hand feels in yours, the way his thumb has started absentmindedly rubbing circles over your knuckle. “I mean...” you start. “I don’t think your dad would be disappointed with the way you fly, Bradley. You’re the best of the best, like, Natasha told me how you’re all in the top 1% and you were all called back for this crazy mission and that’s such a big accomplishment in and of itself. But...” you trail off.

He squeezes twice for you to continue. “But I think he wouldn’t want to see you holding this grudge against Maverick. And I know I’m the last person who should be telling you to let go of the past... But honestly, ever since our fresh start, I’ve felt so relieved, and hopeful, you know? And it’s absolutely not the same thing, I know. Mav betrayed you, and I mean, I was just mad you were better than me-”

He scoffs. “It was more than that, Buttercup. Don’t downplay your struggles-”

You wave your free hand. “Regardless! I just mean to say... If this mission really is life or death like you said, then maybe the two of you need to talk it out. Have a fresh start. Just like we did - minus the hand holding, though,” you joke, holding up your joined hands slightly.

He smiles softly, squeezing once, sending your heart into a frenzy. “Thanks. I really appreciate your input and I’ll think about it, Buttercup. Really. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re on a fresh start.”

The comfortable silence returns, and you turn your gaze back to the ocean, which isn’t as pretty as you remember it being. Even with the sun getting lower, casting rays that reflect brilliantly off the surface of the water, the sight still isn’t as breathtaking as the man next to you.

“Sorry I’m still calling you Buttercup, by the way,” he breaks the silence. “I’ll stop - I mean it’ll take a while to switch over, but...”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it, honestly. If you called me by my real name, I might have a stroke.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Bradley laughs, eyes crinkling ever so sweetly, and just then you realize that the nauseous feeling plaguing you this whole week is butterflies. In your stomach. Just like the Miley Cyrus song.

Sweet niblets.

Tuesday finds you in the middle of another rom-com binge night - you’re on your third glass of ranch water (courtesy of some girl Brittany from Instagram) and your second throwback film of the night (Mean Girls) just for the comfort it provides. You hadn’t heard from Bradley yet - apparently, something happened during yesterday’s training and some Naval officer had passed away.

It’s been rough for him with the mission coming up next week - you’re happy to give him some space.

Your phone starts buzzing between your ass and the couch, and you pull it out to see another call from Lieutenant Gallo. “Hey, Lieutenant,” you smile slightly, swirling the contents of your drink in the glass idly. “How are you feeling? How was the funeral?”

Bradley’s driving - you can hear the hum of the vehicle over the phone and the Bronco’s turn signal. “It was fine,” he says, finally, sounding distant - and not just because he’s put you on speaker.

“You okay?” You fold your legs underneath you and pause the TV, devoting your undivided attention to him. “You can talk to me.”

He’s still silent. Then, he says your name - your real name. Your stomach drops immediately like you just hit some turbulence, and you set your drink down on a coaster and wait for him to continue. “I don’t know. It just reminded me of how terrible this job can be. Losing someone like that. I mean, no one knew just how sick Admiral Kazansky was, but…. Fuck. It’s brutal here. And Phoenix and Bob both had to punch out,” you gasp softly, “...they stayed for overnight observation and they’re fine now, but it’s terrifying.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’m glad they’re okay. I know that must be terrifying, Bradley,” you say. “Are you... Are you just more worried about the mission now?”

A heavy sigh. “Yeah. Something like that.” Another turn signal click - your heartbeat is somehow outpacing it. “Listen…” he says your real name again. Your smartwatch is going to think you’re going into cardiac arrest. “I know… I appreciate our becoming friends now. You’ve gotta know that. I just need to warn you about this mission… it’s gonna be fucking brutal. And you know, after we get back - if we get back, sorry to put it that way - it just never ends… it’s onto the next thing. I might get shipped out to Manama or somewhere, I’m not sure. And I just wanted to warn you, because I don’t know how long you’re going to be stuck here for-“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You say after a sharp intake of breath. His words strike deep into your heart, unearthing feelings of hopelessness you thought you were just starting to bury.

“I mean… look, I just know I’m headed out after this mission if I get back. And until you figure things out you’re staying here, right? I mean you said it yourself, you’re not sure what your next step is going to be.”

You nod again, thinking back to your breathing exercises, thinking back to your hike with Bradley, thinking back to the smell of sunscreen on his skin, the sound of the waves, the weight of his hand in yours. Your efforts are for naught though, as tears still find a way to roll down your cheeks in fat droplets - like the rain on the day you decided to just quit once and for all. The biggest fucking mistake of your life, maybe. “Yeah, I guess,” you croak out.

Bradley’s silent on the line for a second. “I just wanted to… fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted to be straightforward with you. Because I really appreciate your friendship. I wish we could’ve managed the niceties fifteen years ago,” he chuckles dryly. You feel something shift inside you at his phrasing - you’re annoyed at his leisurely tone. He knows exactly why things were the way they were in undergrad. “I just don’t want to keep you waiting here for me.”

That’s the final nail in the coffin. The cruel, painful reminder that your path ahead is terribly foggy, completely uncertain. To hear Bradley speak about it so matter-of-factly, as if he too is expecting nothing more from you but to stay in this guest house for the rest of eternity. It’s honestly starting to sound like a good idea.

You eye your open laptop where you had pulled up info about Stanford University’s Masters and Ph.D. programs in Computer Science. A dozen tabs are open - programs for schools all across the world, YouTube videos of people outlining how they got into research and University teaching, and a very reassuring post on Reddit titled “How old is too old to attend grad school?”

Your heart sinks at the prospect of trying and failing again. At the realization that Bradley called just to informally shift things over to an awkward long-distance acquaintanceship. At the heartbreaking, anxious thought that maybe Bradley can sense you’re just not cut out to take yet another giant step in your career. That you’ll be here for a while. So you close your laptop with your free hand and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Right,” you say, keeping your voice as even as possible and wiping your wet cheeks with your shirt. “I get it. I just- yeah. Yeah, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. You’re right.”

Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I didn’t mean-“

“No, no! It’s fine!” You cut him off. “You’re right. As always, you’re right. I um… Fuck. I gotta go, I think.”

“Buttercup-“ he tries, but somehow it fuels a fire you didn’t even know was spreading through your body. All of your anxieties and fears of failure take a backseat to the burning anger in your chest and throat. You find yourself indescribably incensed with him - who the fuck does he think he is? Trying to warn you about staying in this city for too long? Pretending to be concerned about your future?

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You say sharply. “I’m not your buttercup, or your sweetheart, or whatever else you come up with. You know my fucking name, and apparently, you know my plans too! You just have me all figured out, don’t you, Bradshaw? Lieutenant Bradshaw, top 1% of all naval pilots - you know what? Good for you, Bradley. I’m glad you have it all figured out and you’re going off on some awesome adventure right after this with your awesome and talented flight buddies.” Oh god, you’re dangerously close to repeating Janis Ian’s angry monologue from Mean Girls.

“They’re not adventures, hon-“

“You can fuck off, Bradshaw. I’ll try my best not to wither away here in Fightertown with no fucking opportunities for me whatsoever, working that fucking barista job trying to make sense of all the fucking ways you can make a macchiato because that’s all I can fucking manage! And you know what - for as long as I’ve hated this job, from just the three weeks I’ve been here that is truly only a modicum of my whole life, I’ve been trying to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with treading water and waiting for your next move. But if you’re so worried I’m gonna waste my life waiting for you then I’ll make it easy for you, Bradshaw: I’m not waiting for anyone but my damn self. I’m gonna give myself time and patience because I fucking deserve that after practically killing myself trying to get a degree I might never use again. So thanks for your concern jackass - but you can shove it. I see even after fifteen years you haven’t lost your penchant for making me feel small!”

“Wait, what-“ you jab your finger at the end call button, effectively cutting Bradley Bradshaw out of your life once again.

~happy ending for these bbs coming in part 3 ~

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #topgun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #mine #tw suicide mention

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geralts-yenn · 8 months

Text

Believe in Me - Chapter 7

chapter warnings: oral (f receiving), vampire handling? lol, p-i-v sex, talk about vampire stuff, vampire bites, talk of violence, weapons mentioned, idk, I’m bad with warnings, tell me if I missed something

word count: 4,3k

A/N: I'm back from my summer break and this is what I brought home for you. We got a tiny bit of angst, some fluff, some smut and a lot more angst. Sorry!

Inspo board for this chapter is here

Please let me know what you think - reblogs and comments are always the way to make me happy! Tumblr only works if you reblog. Help me to keep this story alive 😘

Series Masterlist

Everything around Aurora drowned in a fog. She heard August, Charles and Melot talking. Melot shouting even, but not a single word rang through to her. The only sound she noticed was her thundering heart and a high-pitched whistle that rang through her head.

At some point, she felt hands wrapping around her shoulders, and somehow she found herself sitting on the couch in the large lounge room the next moment. There was Maria sitting next to her, holding her hand and Melot on the other side, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

“What’s happening next?” she heard her own voice asking, though she couldn’t remember wanting to talk at all. Melot rubbed his hand along her spine.

“You’ll be staying here. No matter how much I want this to be wrong, August is right. You are in danger. But we’ll be working on a solution.” Aurora wasn’t happy with Melot’s answer but she trusted him and she accepted it.

Maria weighed in: “Hey, at least Charlie could convince August that I can stay with you. I won't leave you alone. Promise!” She was giving Aurora's hand a firm squeeze.

Aurora squirmed nervously on the sofa. “Uh, I might have missed parts of the conversation. Everything after August telling me I was his guest is a blur.” Her head dropped.

Melot leaned forward, pulling Aurora tighter to his side and guiding her to look at him with his fingers gently pressing on her chin.

“August wants Charlie to be your personal bodyguard,” he explained. “I tried everything to convince him to let me do that, but August just doesn't trust me.” Frustration and anger reverberated in his voice.

Charles took over the conversation. “I'm with you in this, okay? Don't fear that I will do anything other than protect you in any way. And I will give you two as much, uh,” he paused to share a small mischievous smile with them. “As much private space as August will allow me to.” Maria shoved an elbow into Charles' side.

“So, my dad’s a god, huh?” It should have sounded like a joke, but everyone could tell that Aurora wasn’t joking right now. She was shocked. Thirty minutes ago, she hadn’t even known gods existed. It wasn’t a far stretch, now that everyone knew about vampires. But she realized she had never thought about the existence of other unearthly creatures.

Another time it was Charles that answered. “It was quite common a few thousand years ago that gods and humans shared their beds, and there were plenty of demigods. But there was always drama surrounding these relationships and with time, gods became more careful. They avoided getting humans pregnant. Actually, I only heard tales of half gods and I’ve been here for quite a while now.” Maria chuckled at his remark. She would have loved to ask him how long exactly, but she didn’t want to interrupt this conversation with her stupid banter.

But Aurora was done with brooding over her situation. She really needed a break. “So my dad is some god who doesn't know about birth control, great. Do I need to know more? Do I have any superpowers? Laser eyes or something cool?” This was making Charles laugh and soon everyone joined, even Melot.

The change of mood lifted a weight from all of their shoulders. They chose to ignore for the rest of the day the total mess that Aurora's life was and the problems that came with it. Melot wasn't supposed to work tonight, and Charlie's new job was just being with Aurora anyway.

So they ordered take out for the girls and just sat together on the couch, watching old sitcoms. They decided it was time to finally catch a breath. Melot and Aurora cuddled on the couch and listened to Maria and Charles throwing pointed remarks at each other. When Aurora was almost drifting off to sleep, Melot got up and guided her back to her room. Charles watched them getting up the stairs, giving a small nod of approval to his cousin.

“Do you want me to stay?” Melot asked, trying to hide the hope in his voice. But Aurora grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the room. “I need you to stay!” she whispered before she started kissing him.

They both dropped on the bed. Melot did quick work with the jersey dress Aurora had hastily put on before rushing to meet August. He hummed as he took in her picture, laying in front of him, only wearing her panties.

“You truly are a goddess!” he whispered in between pressing wet kisses over her whole body. “Let me worship you!” He rolled down the lacy fabric of her underwear and parted her legs with a gentle push at her knees.

When Melot put his mouth on her, Aurora couldn’t help but think of what Maria had told her. ‘He really learned a thing or two over the last centuries’, she thought. Her smile only faded when she couldn’t hold back a moan any longer. His tongue was relentlessly circling her sensitive bud, only interrupting when he sucked and rolled it between his lips every now and then.

She was almost there, the tight feeling growing in her stomach, when he slipped a finger into her.

“Oh my god! Melot!” Aurora cried out. Aurora’s eyes rolled back in her head with the way his finger just hit the right spot. And when his mouth found back to her clit, she came undone. She arched her back and her legs quivered around Melot's curls.

He got up and watched her hungrily as she lay spent on the bed.

With a blink of an eye, all his clothes were gone. Aurora gazed at the perfect body in front of her, biting her lip.

“I could get used to those vampire tricks,” she laughed.

Another blink and she was pinned against the wall. Melot held her wrists with one hand above her head while his other one took the rest of her weight effortlessly, wrapped around her thigh.

“Could you?” His voice dropped seductively. Aurora was panting as she felt his hard cock press against her. If it meant he'd take her like this, yes she could.

“Please, fuck me!” she pleaded, and Melot was eager to obey. He guided Aurora to sink down on his length. Both of them moaned into each other's mouths as Melot started to move.

Pressed against the wall, Aurora wasn't able to control anything, so she just closed her eyes and focused on taking in as much as she could of her lover. She felt Melot's cock pushing in and out, his hips crashing against her skin. His fingers digging into her flesh, his chest trapping her own frame, his soft hair brushing over her hardened buds with every jolt. She felt the sweet ache of her arms restrained in Melot's tight grip.

It didn't take long until she felt another orgasm approach. But just as she was about to fall over the edge, Melot had moved her another time. She was on the bed, on her stomach, her ass high in the air.

“This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Melot purred as he was running his fingers along Aurora's sides until they rested on her cheeks. Then his cock was finally filling her again.

His strokes were hard and fast now, almost desperate, and Aurora gasped as she felt him so incredibly deep inside of her.

Melot bent forward, his mouth lapping and sucking at the soft skin of Aurora's neck.

“I need to come, baby, or else I can't hold back any longer. Your scent is too sweet.” Melot snarled and as his fangs scraped along her skin she knew what he yearned for. And Aurora wanted him to pierce her flesh and drink from her.

Instead, they both crashed their bodies frantically into each other.

Melot laced his fingers with Aurora's and guided her hand to press down on her belly. A gasp escaped her as she felt him move inside of her.

Their desperate search for release was finally over when Aurora reached her high first and took Melot with her, her walls clenching around him.

Melot dropped on the bed beside Aurora, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“You have no idea of how much I love you!” Melot's voice was hoarse as he told her what he wasn't afraid to admit any longer.

Aurora enjoyed the pure bliss it was to lie in Melot's arms. Humming, she turned so that she was resting on his broad chest, her eyes locked with Melot's. His pupils were blown wide, almost no red visible any longer as he watched her.

“What is it that makes us feel this way, Melot? Is this real? It feels so real…”

His fingers traced along her jaw.

“I don't care what it is, as long as it makes me feel the way I feel right now. My whole life, I thought some part of me was missing. And now I know it was you. With you beside me, I feel whole.”

They kissed for a while, then they made love another time. And just as they got out of the shower and thought they should get some sleep, Melot's phone rang.

With a groan, he took the call, August's name on the display a clear sign that he couldn't ignore it. He didn't say much, but the feelings reflected on his face told Aurora that Melot didn't like what the king had to say to his nephew.

After he ended the call, Melot ran a hand over his face. He dropped on the bed next to where Aurora sat.

“I got the order to work a day shift. The Warriors of Light are up to something big. And I'm the only one who can spy on them while they expect us to hide from the sun.”

“Wait, so you'll have to go now? You haven't slept a minute!” Aurora didn't want him to leave her. She needed him. There was still so much to resolve with August. And she was scared that Melot would put himself in danger.

“Technically, we don't need to sleep, my love. Though I have to admit a bit of rest would have been helpful.” When he looked into her wide eyes, he realized her fear. “Don't worry, it's just an observation job. I'll be back with you in no time.” Melot pressed a kiss on Aurora's forehead before he got up and started dressing.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Melot let Charles in, who took a seat in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace.

“You need to feed from her!” he said tonelessly. Both Melot's and Aurora's head shot up to watch Charles in shock.

“What?” Melot shouted. “August would kill him!” Aurora added. But Charles shook his head.

“Look, you've been through a lot the last few days. I guess you haven't slept in a while.” Melot nodded while Charlie continued. “I have a bad feeling about that whole Warrior of Light thing. I fear this is bigger than August thinks it is. And it's a day mission. Melot, you won't be able to get help and the sun will weaken you further.” He took a deep sigh. “Feed from her. You will need the extra strength. I will stay with you and make sure you can stop. And I make sure August won't notice.”

Aurora and Melot locked their eyes, both confused about what to do.

“Do you really think I am incapable of handling this on my own?” Melot asked, a tint of bitterness in his voice, even if he wanted nothing more than what Charles had just suggested to him.

“No, Melot. I just don't want to take a risk. Aurora needs you. And I do, too. If her blood can help to keep you safe, we need to take that chance.”

“He's right!” Aurora acknowledged. “Please let me help you!”

Melot's gaze fell from Aurora's face to her throat, then to Charles, who nodded at him and back to Aurora. He sat down next to her and brushed a finger over her jugular that she held exposed to him.

“I wish I could, darling, but we need to be careful. August would notice new wounds on your throat, even with your godly healing abilities.”

He took Aurora's wrist, where August's bite was still visible as two tiny red spots.

Melot kissed the soft skin of her arm. And after checking that both Aurora and Charlie were ready, he sank his fangs into her exactly at the same place as August had done.

Aurora could feel how Melot's and her own hearts were beating in unison. A warm feeling of happiness spread in her chest. Melot's pupils were blown, even more as when they had loved each other. But this time he was able to keep himself from losing his mind. This time he was prepared for the sensation of tasting her, which made it easier for him to stop.

After a few gulps, he pulled back, licking carefully over Aurora's wounds. His hands were shaking as he cupped her cheeks and kissed her softly.

“Thank you!” he gasped, barely audible to Aurora.

They held each other in a tight embrace. Aurora felt Melot's heart race in his chest, faster than a normal human would have survived.

Then he broke away from their embrace and walked to the door. Charles was by his side the next moment, and Melot patted him on his back, “Thank you, brother.” Then his eyes locked a last time with Aurora. “I'll be back soon. I love you.” And then he left the room.

Charles was about to follow when Aurora called after him. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

Charles sat down next to her. “Because I love him. Just don't tell anyone! Especially not him.” Both of them chuckled.

“You know, he's a different person since he has found you. And I really like seeing him that happy. I will give everything to protect you two.”

Charlie got up again. “You should get some sleep! I will wait outside until you are awake again. Then we'll see how Maria and I can distract you from missing that fool.”

It was hours later when Aurora woke up again. She found Maria and Charles on the couch. Maria straddling Charles' thighs and Charles feeding from Maria's neck, to be precise.

“Sorry! I didn't mean to disturb you!” she said, but Maria objected that she wasn't disturbing at all. “Charlie's just having breakfast,” she said with a wide smile.

Still feeling a bit like an intruder, Aurora took her time to prepare some cereals and pour herself a cup of coffee. Then she sat down on the far side of the couch, doing her best to ignore the other two.

When Charles was done with feeding, he left them, saying he needed to get some things done for August.

The two other vampires that took his place in guarding Aurora were standing at the door, watching her and Maria attentively and it felt so much more awkward as with Charles. But that's what Aurora's new life looked like and she tried to ignore it as much as she could.

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” Maria was making herself comfortable on the couch by her side.

“It's okay, I guess? Still not really comprehending that I'm imprisoned here. And it's a nice prison, to be fair. Especially when Melot is here with me. But I am still scared of what's to come.” Maria nodded sympathetically.

The two girls did their best to avoid the topic of Aurora being a demigoddess, a dangerous weapon and the hostage of a vampire for the next few hours. Exploring the garden, the pool area and the entertainment system helped a lot to forget. But even all the advantages of being locked away in a large mansion of an unreasonably rich vampire got boring after a while. That's why Charles found them both studying when he got back to them.

“You know you can't go back to college anytime soon, right?” he asked with a raised eyebrow that made Maria roll back her eyes dramatically. “Doesn't mean she shouldn't use her brain anymore, does it?”

Aurora would have laughed about those two, still denying that they liked each other, but as it was almost midnight by now, she was starting to get nervous. Melot's job was supposed to be done during daytime. He should have been home by now. Aurora hoped that at least Charlie had heard from him, but he had to disappoint her. “I'm sorry! I tried to call him but he wouldn't answer. He only sent me a message that he'd call back later.”

Aurora checked her own phone once more, but there weren't any messages from Melot, so she tried to distract herself by going through her essay once more.

Another hour later, August entered the lounge room. The same as the last time she had met him, Aurora noticed that the room felt colder suddenly and a tension was filling her soul.

Everyone sank their heads as they greeted him, but August just waved with his long fingers to show them they could relax.

When his gaze fell onto the girls, he frowned. “You won't be back to studying, Aurora. Did you not understand?” Charles chuckled and told his uncle that he already pointed this out, and Aurora saw how Maria bit her lip to suppress the same comment she had snapped at Charles earlier.

August's eyes were still locked on Aurora and Maria. “Not to appear patronizing, but ladies, I am a person who cares very deeply about aesthetics. Would you please adjust your wardrobe to my standards? I can't accept you hanging around here in sweatpants.” He opened his wallet and took out a credit card, throwing it onto the coffee table. “Charles, could you please help them find appropriate apparel?” Without waiting for an answer, he left the room. Maria looked from Aurora to Charles and broke out in laughter. “He's serious, right?”

Charles' smile widened. “Dead serious! He loves to gather nice-looking things around him. Go shopping, ladies!” He took Maria's laptop and opened a website full of lingerie that cost almost as much as the rent of Maria's apartment. With a wink, he turned the computer back to the girls.

As the night went on, Aurora got more and more nervous. Melot still wasn't home, he didn't answer calls. Charles tried to calm her, saying that this wasn't something unusual. Sometimes a job just didn't work out as planned. Maria finally managed to convince Aurora that she needed some sleep when the sky was already turning bright. And Aurora drifted away to sleep way faster than she expected.

The clock on the bedside table showed 5:34pm when she woke up again. Immediately she grabbed her phone, but there were still no messages or calls. She didn't bother to get out of her pajamas. When she got out of her room, Mike got up from the chair that was standing next to her door. So it was his turn to guard her. Aurora ignored him, running down the stairs where she found Charles.

He was running up and down the room, his phone pressed to his ear. When his eyes met Aurora's she knew immediately that Charles' patience was gone by now, too. He was looking concerned.

“Aurora! Did he call you?” He already knew the answer but he had to ask anyway. As she shook her head and tears gathered in her eyes, he wrapped his arms around her.

“Damn! I'll talk to August! I'm taking a team to the warehouse. We'll get him.”

He was waving at Mike, who was still standing at the stairs. Even the usually so cheerful vampire had a hint of panic in his expression.

“Mikey, take her to Maria's room and keep watching them.” Mike nodded and guided Aurora back up the stairs.

Charles was gone before Aurora set her foot on the first step. He knocked at August's door, not caring that the king didn't like to be bothered in his private rooms.

“Come in, Charles!” he heard the king saying, the annoyance clearly notable in his voice.

Charles took a deep breath and opened the door. It wouldn’t be easy to talk to August, but they had to do something about Melot. No matter what caused him to stay away so long, if he were safe, he would have called by now.

“Melot and you make it quite the habit to disturb me way too early into the night. I don’t like that! So please tell me it’s something important”

August was sitting in his bed, his back rested against the headboard. Tight-lipped, he watched as Charles bowed before him.

“Melot is still not back. It’s been more than 24 hours since I last heard from him, and that was only a brief message. I really think he’s in trouble. August, please, let me take some of your men to get him.” The king brushed with his fingers over his mustache.

“You’re not very confident in your cousin's abilities, Charles. I think we should give Melot a chance to work things out on his own.” August didn’t seem to be concerned in any way by Melot’s disappearance. Charles couldn’t believe it, and his anger made him talk without thinking.

“What’s wrong with you, August? You are always talking about us as a family. But you treat us like we are your servants. And especially Melot always gets your anger and disapproval, no matter what he does. Why can’t you be supportive of him for once? He needs your help!”

August rose from his bed and was next to Charles in a second. But to Charles surprise, he didn’t rip out his throat. Instead, he guided Charles to sit down and took the chair next to him.

“Listen, I may be appearing hostile to you, but it’s all for your own good. This is the way I support you. You are learning so much more if you can’t rely on me all the time. If you need to work out things on your own. You are important to me. All of you that I gather around me. You are my family. And Melot - he is special. He is capable of more than he knows. More than any of us knows. And with my constant criticism, I can bring him into the position that he once will need to take. He needs to find out how incredibly talented he is. I can’t do that for him.”

It isn’t very often that Charles was left speechless but at this moment he was. That was not what he had expected to hear after he had lost his temper with the king. He couldn’t believe that he wasn’t supposed to be punished for his words.

“Thank you for your honesty, your majesty. But please let me take at least Syverson and Marshall to the warehouse and see what’s happening there. Your safety is in danger, too, as long as the Warriors of Light are still working on their plans.”

After a moment of thinking, August replied, shaking his head. “Syverson and Marshall are needed at the club. But you can take Mike and Will. Go see what is happening but don’t make it a bloodbath. We need to be careful, we’re bound to laws now. People are still fearing us and we want this to change.”

Charles was thankful that he got the approval to get Melot and he didn't want to lose another minute. "What about Aurora?" he asked, realizing that there won't be anyone to guard her.

"I will take care of her myself." August got dressed as the other vampire watched him suspiciously. "Don't look at me like this." The king chuckled deeply. "She's Melot's. I won't touch her. I'm not a monster."

It took Charles only a minute to gather everyone and everything in the living room. All sorts of weapons were splayed out on the kitchen counter. Charles, Mike and Will were dividing them amongst each other while discussing plans.

Aurora was balled up on the couch, crying her heart out, Maria giving her best to spend some comfort to her friend. August was leaning against a wall watching them all calmly.

And then there was this sound. Aurora's head shot up. Would Melot use the doorbell if he was back? Probably not, but that didn't stop her hoping that it was her boyfriend.

Charles looked at August with a frown. "We don't get visitors that need to use the gate often." He explained to Maria and Aurora as he walked to the entrance. When he switched on the monitor, Aurora gasped.

"I need to talk to the king!" said the woman standing at the gate. Aurora started crying again.

"It's Tara. My sister." It was not the time to argue with her family about her living situation with vampires. And Charles must have thought the same. He answered through the intercom.

"Tara, Aurora is here on her own accord. We won't be discussing her decision with you. Please leave our property." But Tara was shaking her head.

"I'm not here because of Aurora. I'm here because of Melot. He needs your help."

__________

Part 8

#believe in me #vampire au #melot x ofc #melot fanfiction #modern au melot #vampire!melot #vampire!charles #vampire!august #my writing

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pandoa · 2 years

Note

Hi hi pando!!,congrats on 100!,If its ok I would like to request Yellow pansies and Primroses with a by the gardens theme with azul?,go wild ;0!

Yellow pansies ~ “they love me, they love me not. they love me, they love me n—” “what are you doing?” “GAH!”

Primroses ~ “i loaf you very much” “oh my god” “you’re a berry kind person” “no, stop” “there’s so mushroom in my heart for you” “ENOUGH WITH THE PUNS—“

~azul ashengrotto x gender neutral reader~

hi anon!! tysm for requesting~ i did indeed go wild with this one lol i accidentally made it longer than i originally planned but oh well. i hope you like it ♡

♡Blossom Grove Prompt Event♡

♡love you lots♡

“They love me, they love me not,” a voice belonging to none other than the Octavinelle dorm leader played throughout the prosperous garden of NRC as he plucked the petals off a flower one by one, uttering the same hopeful words over and over again.

Squatting above a lively bed of blooming flowers, Azul was seen crouched down on his knees, fully questioning his current life choices. What he had been doing in this, albeit quite serene, garden he was much too embarrassed to admit. The lavish octopus was conflicted, to say the least. Conflicted on whether or not your lingering gazes towards him during your visits at Mostro Lounge held any unsaid meanings. Conflicted on whether or not your sugar-coated words were designed to lure him in like a bee attracted to pollen. Conflicted by the way your smiles seemingly grew tremendously larger the instant he walked into the same room. Had he only been imagining it? Had he finally fallen off the deep end of the ocean just as Floyd had said he would?

All of these uncertainties had accumulated and boiled within the boy, leading to his now compromised position kneeling before a vibrant flower bed, picking at petals despite having no faith for this system of pure luck. Earlier that day, he had heard from Jade that humans and other beings on land had a custom of using petals to determine if someone had reciprocated their romantic feelings. Like some sort of personal fortune telling, one might say. However, only a pompous idiot would be foolish enough to think that plucking at flower petals would direct them to the true feelings of their beloved. The whole ordeal was illogical and simply preposterous. Laughable, even.

So why was he now there in the gardens, hovering above a pile of flowers, doing the exact same thing he deemed as absurd?!

“They love me, they love me not,” Azul mumbled, reaching out to caress another velvet-like petal before tugging it off from its place on the beautiful plant.

“They love me, they love me n—”

“Hey, Azul!” a familiar voice the second year knew all too well startled Azul at the hollering of his own name. “Oh, uh— What are you doing holding that flower like that?”

The young man clumsily leaped up in surprise. “GAH! (Y-y/n)! What a pleasant surprise!” Azul said as he attempted to adjust his crooked glasses resting on his face after they had fallen down as a result of his anxious manner. “I was just… admiring the scenery in this garden, you see. It is quite beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Ah, yes, I suppose it is.”

Azul flashed you with a quick smile, creating a much more relaxed aura around him. “But that is no matter. What is it you wish to discuss with me? You ran here with a certain eagerness to your step, so I can only assume it is fairly important.”

“Oh, um… I just wanted to say that I like you. In a romantic way, of course,” you declared as you peered directly into his widened eyes that stared at you in shock.

Pardon?

Continuing on with your confession, you conveniently stepped closer to Azul’s hesitant form. “You know, I’ve been trying to drop a lot of hints to you over these past couple of weeks about my feelings for you, but I guess you just never caught on? Well, anyways, it took some brutal convincing from an annoyed Grim and a little courage for me to run and look for you to tell you outright as soon as possible.”

Azul, clueless and confused, shot you a look of disbelief as he failed to comprehend what you had just told him. Were you… confessing to him right now? “Hold on for a moment,” he spoke as he lifted up his hand to prevent you from speaking more. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“What? You need me to spell it out for you using bad puns or something?” you deadpanned at your crush’s dense nature.

“Well, not necessarily—”

Ignoring Azul’s ojections, however, you began to speak complete nonsense in an entertaining attempt at wooing the Octavinelle housewarden. “I loaf you very much.”

“Oh, Great Seven…” Azul sighed in concern.

“You’re a berry kind person.”

“No, stop.”

“Oh! Here’s one I think Jade would appreciate!” you clapped your hands together with pride for your genius idea. “There’s so mushroom in my heart for you~”

“ENOUGH WITH THE PUNS, PREFECT—”

Amused by his irritated reaction, you released a bellowing laugh coming from deep within your stomach as it echoed throughout the peaceful garden. “You get it now?”

Azul stood still in his place on the ground, appearing to be considerably dazed by your peculiar way of displaying your affections. “I believe so…”

“Hehe, good.”

a/n: i wrote most of this with one braincell operating at 1am anyways azul's hair looks so floofy i wanna touch it and give it a lil noogie~

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #azul twisted wonderland #azul twst #azul ashengrotto x y/n #twst imagines #twst scenarios #octavinelle #blossom grove prompt event

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the-widow-sisters · 9 months

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Can you do Kate and Natasha “Close your eyes. Everything’s okay. I’ve got you.”

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I love writing me some Kate and Natasha feels 🥰💖 Hopefully I did them justice in this one 💗 It's been a while, lol

I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.3k+

“Close your eyes. Everything’s okay. I’ve got you,” Natasha whispered to Kate, holding her in her arms as Kate sunk into her.

It had been a rough day for Kate. She had done nothing but screw up all day long, and she had felt like everything was turned against her. Lucky had somehow gotten out of her room, and she had lost him somewhere in the compound. It had freaked her out until Carol brought him back to her.

After the Lucky episode, Kate had decided to finally have lunch and it turned out that Peter had eaten the last of the dirty rice in the kitchen. Which had left her in a less than happy mood.

And then to top off everything, she twisted her ankle during practice that day and she had to call things quits.

So at the end of the day, she had finally dragged herself to Natasha and Yelena’s house, craving affection from the one person that could make it all better. Natasha had thankfully been the one to answer the door— Yelena had been and still was in the shower at the moment— and as soon as Kate stepped in and let all of the words come tumbling out, Natasha had offered to cuddle with her.

Which brought them to where they were now as they lounged on the couch and Kate laid on top of the older woman.

Listening to Natasha’s words, Kate obeyed finally, shutting her eyes as she took in the scent of one of her favorite people in the world. Natasha was always there for her.

She always loved Natasha’s embraces. It made her feel like she was being wholly enveloped by the older woman despite the fact that Kate herself was taller and larger than her. Something about the way that Natasha held her and how Kate’s head was pressed into Natasha’s collarbone and throat with Natasha’s legs encasing the sides of Kate’s body gave the feeling of complete safety.

“It’s just been rough, Tasha,” Kate mumbled against her, and Natasha shook her head, kissing the top of Kate’s as she pressed her nose to her hair.

“I know, angel… Just don’t think about it. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Natasha told her, her soft reassurances slipping from her tongue as naturally as ever.

Kate could not help but feel the stress slipping from her bones and dissipating from her soul as she reveled in the feeling of Natasha’s arms around her. Natasha stroked her hair, her hands soft as her fingers softly threaded through the strands and met the scalp underneath. Kate could not help the smooth, slightly dopey hum underneath her breath as she enjoyed the sensations.

“You’ve always got me, Tasha,” Kate softly confessed, Natasha’s gentle breaths through her nose falling against her head.

“You’re the best,” Kate murmured, and Natasha hummed noncommittally.

“You’re sweet,” Natasha simply replied, her voice uncertain despite the warmth within it. Kate knew that Natasha did not agree with her. However, Kate knew she did not have the energy to fight her on it right now.

However, Natasha could bet she would say something about it later when she was recharged some.

It was as she heard Fanny’s nails clicking around on the floor some distance away that Kate thought of Lucky again, remembering how scared she had been when he had disappeared like he had.

“I guess somebody must have gone into my room to find me or something… That had to be how Lucky got out,” Kate stated, the worries resurfacing a little in her mind, and Natasha made some noise in the back of her throat, the vibration of it tickling a little against Kate’s head.

“He’s safe now, though.”

“Yeah… I just don’t want to see anything happen to him, though. Out of everything that happened to me today, that’s the part that bothered me the most,” Kate admitted, her voice gentle as she spoke into Natasha’s hoodie.

Natasha let out a gentle breath, and Kate could feel her shift ever so slightly underneath Kate as she tightened her hold on her.

“Don’t worry. Whoever let him out will get an earful,” Natasha promised, and Kate could hear the barely disguised protectiveness and irritation in Natasha’s voice as she thought of whoever had caused Kate pain. Kate could not help the sparks of something warm in her chest at Natasha’s watchfulness over her.

Natasha always brought the safest feeling to Kate, and she somehow had a way of reassuring her that everything would end up alright.

Interrupting the intense feeling of comfort that she was feeling, she suddenly heard the smallest noise not too far off. It sounded like a floorboard creaking.

Quickly following this, to Kate’s complete surprise, she suddenly felt a heavy weight on her lower back and behind area. Kate let out a grunt as it made impact, and Natasha let out a soft groan before chuckling warmly herself. Kate opened her eyes, looking behind her as she took in what had hit her.

To her shock, it was Yelena perched on top of her. She was leaned back against the back of the couch as she unceremoniously sat on top of Kate, squishing her to the couch cushions as she unashamedly got comfortable without a single thought for Kate’s potential discomfort.

Kate was slightly concerned about Yelena having heard her conversation with Natasha. She was not entirely sure how Yelena would react, but she trusted her.

However, Yelena did not even look in Kate’s direction. She instead simply turned on the television, watching it as Fanny rounded the edge of the couch to join her owner.

Kate’s eyes widened as Fanny caught sight of her and her tongue lolled with the promise of what she was about to do. Kate instantly started pulling back as Fanny excitedly put her paws up on the edge of the couch cushions just beside Natasha and started toward Kate’s face, fully aiming to lick her.

Kate let out a slight squeal, giggling as she reached out and tried to block the dog from getting to her.

Natasha laughed as Kate tried to escape Fanny’s tongue as she excitedly lapped and tried to get her to give her pets. Even Yelena was chuckling as she took in the sight, and after a moment, she finally shook her head and spoke up.

“Down, Fanny. Come over here and sit,” Yelena told her, and Fanny reluctantly left Kate alone as she approached Yelena. Yelena leaned over a little from her high vantage point perched on Kate’s back, and she petted the dog’s head.

“Good girl. Besides, you don’t want Kate Bishop germs in your mouth, do you?” Yelena joked, making a playful jab at Kate despite the fact that it was not directly pointed at her. Kate just groaned softly, not impressed but not gracing it with a response as she snuggled into Natasha’s arms.

Natasha sweetly wiped Kate’s face with her sleeve, cleaning her of the dog slobber before letting her slightly calloused yet soft hand stroke Kate’s cheek with its coolness.

“Listen, she’s been over there wallowing in her feelings, and while you’re a good girl for trying to make her feel better, she doesn’t need you licking her right now. Not when she almost lost Lucky. You know, your best friend that always licks his butt,” Yelena told the dog with a small chuckle, her voice gentle as she spoke.

Although Fanny could not understand a word, it was clear that the words were not uttered for the benefit of the dog.

Kate could not help but feel herself warm and a bubble of pure happiness settle over her. She could feel Natasha’s soft hum as her head shifted and she looked at Yelena, sharing some sort of unspoken communication. She then dipped her head down, her cheek brushing Kate’s head as she rested against her.

Kate just shifted slightly, getting comfortable with Yelena’s weight on her as she nestled further into Natasha’s arms and watched the television that Yelena had sweetly changed to one of Kate’s favorite recorded movies.

In that moment, she could not help but forget all about her frustrations from earlier.

Kate had never felt more at-home in her life.

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aecu · 2 years

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i literally know no other girls that write for aespa so i will come with my head hung into ur inbox :( having messy sleepover sex with ningning is literally all i’ve been able to think about for probably the past week. anytime i do anything the idea is sitting pretty in the back of my head and it’s killing me slooowlllyy.

like can u imagine getting all dolled up with bestfriend!ning in pretty lace lingerie for funsies and maybe (just maybe!) as a joke you start kissing, but oh god, after a while it’s so much more than that. like it’s not a joke anymore when the two of you have drool dripping down your chins from how hard you’ve been pushing at each other’s tongues, and both your bras are long gone as you both grind on eachother’s thigh, desperately trying to get off because it all feels!!! too!!! good!!! and maybe the two of you are both fucking ditzes and forgot to lock the door and are too fucking loud that karina ends up walking in and i literally am just rambling bcus holy fuck she’s so pretty i need her lol

anon i would like you to know that my jaw actually dropped when i first read this, i had to send it to sophie right away because this is so%&$(@*)#( you have to be living inside my brain

i really love this concept so much though. the thought of you two trying hard to convince yourselves that a girls night that involves both of you lounging around each other in lingerie would stay entirely innocent is really amusing.

it starts with her teasing, joking comments about how you look so pretty in your lingerie and how she might be tempted to kiss you. her teasing words turn into teasing touches and before you know it, her lips are on yours, soft and flavored like her vanilla lip balm. the kiss is messy and frantic, slick with your shared spit and filled with desperation. she brings herself to sit on top of your thigh, lightly grinding onto the muscle. yizhuo’s arms wrap around you as her lips trail down your neck. the two of you are anything but subtle, loudly whining against each other’s lips at how good it finally feels to be touching one another.

both of you would shed your bras hastily, wanting nothing more than to feel each other in the most intimate way possible. the thought of how loud you’re actually being never seems to cross your mind until jimin—yizhuo’s roommate—opens the door to the room with a surprised look on her face. you pull away from the girl on your lap slowly, turning to look at the tall figure in the doorway. jimin doesn’t say much, despite coming there with the intention of complaining about the noise. you can almost see the gears turning in her brain, but before any words can leave her lips, she spins around and shuts the door, scampering back to her bedroom and wondering why seeing the two of you made her so wet.

#sorry this took so long i fell into a bit of a Slump but i’m feeling much better now #ningning sleepover anon please come back to me #i love you dearly #ningning smut #karina smut #aespa smut #men dni #asks #favs

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bi-bats · 8 months

Note

Hey bitch, it's @chipmunkery <3

13, 32, 40 (no reason in particular 👀), 63, 64 for the ask meme

HEY BESTIEEEEE!! Thank you for sending me an ask even though I'm sure you know the answer to like. half of these questions lmaooooo 💖💖💖💖

13. what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

ooh I actually have to think about this one for a second, hang on

maybe using sensory details and actions to break up dialogue? Sometimes if I think there needs to be a moment between two lines of dialogue but I'm not actually giving the reader a chance to pause by using an emdash or an ellipses, I'll throw something in there to break it up. I have some examples from the damitim fic:

“You’re not talking?” “No.” “Is that your call?” Damian puts the teapot on the stove with slightly more force than required, flicking on the burner in the same fashion. “No,” he says flatly.

okay yeah so in this bit I put that action with the teapot in there as a substitute for a line about Damian pausing, because "he paused" looked boring and felt wrong, so I gave him something to do in that time. This also uses the other bit of advice I posted about the other day about avoiding just saying how a character feels. The action I gave him tells you how he's feeling about it: he's frustrated. But also, he says no flatly, because he doesn't want his words to show that he cares.

Sometimes instead of an action I'll throw in a train of thought because like. If the character has time to notice a smell or to feel something, it creates the breathing room I need to emphasize the dialogue. like here:

“No, I fucking don’t! Damian,” Tim scoffs, as if he’s explaining this to a child, “I’ve been living with Ra’s Al Ghul for the last six years, do you honestly think that Bruce is going to trust me after that?” And Damian hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought of not trusting Tim, or forgiving him, for even a second. He is not a fool. He does not think that Tim has spent six years lounging around like a prince in a castle, living in luxury. That Tim spent six years there and kept his hands clean. He pretends he does not feel like he’s begging. “That does not mean you have to leave.”

the time it takes to get from the sentence to the response creates the feeling of the pause even though it's not written anywhere that there is a pause. It just feels like there was a pause while he processed that, and the dialogue is emphasized because of that. Honestly, this is probably the most common thing I do in editing. This actually might not be a common writing tip but I find it works for me and I already wrote all this out and I couldn't think of any common writing tips lol

32. Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

@kieran-granola, @yasmindifference, and @jpeg-dot-jpeg fr this was so easy to answer, everything they write is fucking amazing go read their stuff rn if you haven't already

also honorary mention to you because your stuff is also fucking amazing and I'm EATING IT UP I'VE BROUGHT UP THE JAYBART FIC IN LIKE 4 POSTS AND I'M GONNA DO IT AGAIN RIGHT NOW ADJFAGNAJGLKJF THAT FIC HAS A HOLD ON ME

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

NO PARTICULAR REASON?? NO PARTICULAR REASON, LIKE I HAVEN'T BEEN TELLING YOU HOW HARD I WOULD LOSE MY SHIT IF YOU MADE ART TO GO WITH ONE OF MY PIECES???? YOU THINK I LOSE MY SHIT ABOUT YOUR ART NOW??????? JUST WAIT OKAY JUST WAIT!!!!

Alright well first off anything from this list, but also specifically anything where any of them are covered in blood. The way you draw blood is gorgeous and I'd lose my MIND to see one of my ideas with it 😭 I actually once said to you (half-joking) that I added so much blood to the DamiTim fic because I was trying to lure you into drawing it 😂

So, for you specifically:

that one scene in I Know What My Brother Is where DamiTim (TimDami? I don't really like the order of the ship name mirroring top/bottom dynamics but whatever) are on the bed and Damian's resolve is about to break again

jaytimkon cuddling from the first chapter of Bad Days

that scene in scars & stitches where Tim is leaning Jason back so he can stitch him up and Jason leans back way farther than he needs to

oh my god something from You Hear His Voice Once and You Know It Again like. I'd lose my MIND if you drew lazzied Tim akdjfajkf OOOH YEAH MAYBE THE SCENE WHERE TIM IS HOLDING JASON'S JAW AND JASON IS HOLDING TIM'S WRIST AND IT'S RIGHT WHEN THEY BOTH GO GENTLE FOR A MINUTE

I just really love the way you draw intimacy 😭😭😭 all of these moments are SO intimate you know? Also no pressure to draw any of these, and also anyone is welcome to draw any of these too!! It's just easier for me to pick out specific ones for someone whose style I'm familiar with (and also the ones I'm like. I know for sure I would lose my shit if you drew these lmaooo)

63. Something you hate to see in smut.

I hate the word lover okay I just don't like it I hate it SO much adkjfjafurghgurhgaurhgauhra it upsets me okay it's a me problem whatever

I also don't love the whole 'the older one' 'the younger one' etc. thing, but that's more of a general writing pet peeve than in smut specifically. (It doesn't bother me if it's intentional and like. a kink that someone is leaning into? But it does bother me when it's clear that someone just didn't want to use names again)

64. Something you love to see in smut.

emotional intimacy of any kind. even if it's two characters who are hatefucking instead of being deeply in love. I just. I need them to have feelings about each other it's SO much better that way

also praise kink lol "good boy" are you kidding

#batsasks #🐿 chipmunkery #ARE YOU FR I DIDN'T HAVE A BESTIE TAG FOR YOU????#in my defense your bestie tag is probably actually 'okay I'm normal again' 'cool art' lmaooooo #also HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYY #🎉🎊🎁🥳🎈🎊🎈🎊🎁🎉🎂🎉🎁🎉🎁🎈🥳🎉🥳🎉🥳🎉🎁🎉🎁

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riddle-me-ri · 1 year

Note

Hii, it's me again! :D May I request reader going on a date to the Zoo with Arkham! Ozzie where he buys her a stuffed penguin and the moment she has it on her arms she says: "I'm naming him Oswald" with a smile on her face? Please and thank you!

- Timid Anon 🐁

A/N: So I’m slowly trying to come back from my break, but I just couldn’t not work on this request because one I adore you Timid Anon, two this idea is super soft and cute, and three unironically growing up as a kid and very well into adulthood…I fucking love penguins. It’s a borderline problem I don’t intend to solve. They have always been my favorite animal and I have an absurd amount of penguin paraphernalia you don’t even know! Not to mention all the penguin stuffies I have it’s obscene but I don’t care (and no they’re not all named Oswald…there’s just the one.) So thank you, Timid Anon for letting me venture into this other fixation of mine lol

Trigger Warnings: none, just super fluffy

Word Count: 977

Arkhamverse Penguin x F!Reader - A Stuffed Penguin Named Oswald

Honestly, it was a miracle you got him to leave the Iceberg Lounge. Even Oswald’s crew was impressed, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone just how much you have him wrapped around your finger.

A sweet smile and a “please,” was all it took.

If anyone had anything to say about seeing Oswald Cobblepot around the Gotham City Zoo with a pretty woman on his arm, they knew better to keep their mouths shut. No one dared to take photos, make comments under the breath, or anything. They just made room for the two of you to pass through. Which if we are being honest can be downright impossible to do at a zoo during a busy day.

You had your arm linked with Oswald’s. He wore is familiar black overcoat with fauz fur lining, and you wore your f/c winter jacket. It was another cold winter evening, but it was perfect to check out the colder exhibits.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were made aware of the familiar honking sounds of penguins hollering to each other.

You gasped in excitement and almost darted away had it not been for Oswald’s thick grip around your arm.

“If you wanted to go, love, all you had to do was ask.” Ozzie laughed.

“No-no, sorry I got excited! I’ve never heard so many before! I wonder if those two new chicks have dropped their down feathers.” It had been a couple months since you last came by with some friends. You were excited to tell Oswald all about them.

You knew he had somewhat of a love-and-hate relationship with his moniker. Once it was a name many used to put him down, but he turned it around. He weaponized it, so now whenever people in Gotham spoke of “The Penguin,” they did it while treading on thin ice (no pun intended).

For you though, penguins were resilient birds whom relied on each other, and oversought many obstacles that made them live in otherwise extremely futile conditions. They were determined, reliable, and adaptable. Just like your Oswald.

“Go on then, love.” Oswald unlinked his arm with yours.

“Ozzie, aren’t you coming?” You tilted your head in confusion as your arm fell to your side.

“I’ll catch up, there’s something I need to do first. My phone’s been buzzing in me pocket. Gotta tell whoever it is to piss off.” Oz grumbled in annoyance.

“Oh, uh, okay. Well, you know where I’ll be! Don’t be long, ok?” You started slowly walking backwards to the exhibit.

“No worries, love, shouldn’t take long!”

You two went your separate ways, you were still a little confused. He may have disliked his alias at first, but you knew he didn’t have anything personal against the animal. In fact, he was a pretty avid animal lover, but you wouldn’t be caught dead disclosing that information.

When you finally got to the chilly exhibit, you barely made out the small herd of African penguins. You couldn’t contain the smile that came across your face at the sight of them. You walked over to the glass to get a closer look, often having to wipe away the fog your breath made on the glass.

You were wiping away another little oval with your jacker sleeve, when you came face to face with one of the penguins that was swimming in the water.

“Hey!” You exclaimed before giggling. “That’s not nice to sneak up on someone!”

The penguin opened its mouth but what noise was made was gurgled by the water and was contained within the air bubbles it produced.

You put your hand on the glass, as if petting its head. “It’s okay, I’ll forgive you this time.”

You could have sworn the penguin nodded and then swam away before jumping back up to the surface.

“I’ve only been gone for a few minutes and I’m already replaced?”

“Geez!” You jumped back in surprise. “Ozzie! I didn’t need to be scared by two penguins.” You crossed your arms in fake annoyance.

Oswald chuckled. “Didn’t mean for you to wet your knickers, love. Just wanted to pull your leg.”

“What’s that?” You pointed down to the plastic bag in his hand.

“Oh, right. Well, I told you a small fib, yeah? I didn’t need to take a call, but I wanted to swing by the shop and grab you something.” He lifted the bag up and handed it to you.

“Aww, Ozzie, you didn’t have to!”

Oz nodded. “I know, I know, but I wanted to. Perhaps something to remember me by whenever the Bat tosses me in the slammer.”

Your nose scrunched up at the mention of Batman, as you took the bag from his hand.

As you reached into it, you responded. "Oh, Oz, nothing could ever replace–oh my god!"

You absolutely squealed when you saw what was hidden in the plastic bag.

It was a soft, fuzzy, and squishy penguin plushie. You couldn't resist the urge to hug it close to your chest and give it a good tight squeeze.

"Aww, Ozzie, I love it!" You pulled the plushie back from your chest and looked into its big cute blue eyes. "And I know exactly what I'm going to name him too!"

"Oh, and what's that, love?" Oz asked with a smile on his face.

"Oswald, probably Ozzie for short." You giggled as you hugged it back to your chest.

Oz's eyes widened at that, obviously touched by your genuine response and enthusiasm. This whole relationship thing is still new to him, but he's glad to see he did something right.

"I'm glad you like 'im, love." He smiled.

"I don't just like him, I love him!" You exclaimed.

You leaned down and gave Oswald a kiss on the cheek. "But I love the real one more."

#arkhamverse penguin x reader #arkhamverse oswald cobblepot x reader #ri writes

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moodymelanist · 1 year

Text

Couldn't Keep Your Composure

so... I'm branching out of my comfort zone WAY more than usual lol. Title taken from Shameless by The Weeknd (which is a 10/10 song). Hope you all enjoy this debauched fic and happy Valentine's Day! I’ve had so much fun participating in @sjmromanceweek and I hope you all did too ❤️

Summary: Azriel pays Elain a visit the night before she marries Graysen.

Read on AO3 here!

♡♡♡♡♡ Elain

Elain sighed happily once she finally had the bridal suite to herself. Wedding planning had been stressful, to say the least, and she couldn’t believe the day had finally come. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to marrying Graysen tomorrow, but she wasn’t going to run screaming from the altar. Their families had worked out some sort of arrangement a few months ago, and Elain had been willing enough.

Graysen seemed kind, and as long as she could go about her own business during the day, she wasn’t particularly upset if she had to lay down next to him at night. He was attractive and he’d grown up in the same world she had, and that had been enough for Rhea and Owain to bargain away her hand in marriage in exchange for some kind of alliance between their families.

Nesta had been furious on Elain’s behalf, but Elain hadn’t had that kind of fight left in her. Nesta had gotten to marry the man of her dreams, and Elain was alright sacrificing her own chance at true love if it meant at least one of them could be happy. It had meant having to give up Azriel, but they’d known from the beginning their love was doomed. Nesta and Cassian eloping had been one thing, and Feyre and Rhys making eyes at each other had been another, but her parents wouldn’t tolerate another unapproved marriage.

Azriel wasn’t born into mafia royalty like Rhys, and Elain wasn’t bold enough to defy her parents’ demands. When the day finally had finally come when she’d learned who her parents had chosen for her, she’d taken it as stoically as she could. Everyone had told her it wasn’t worth getting involved with him, but she’d taken her chances, and they’d both paid the price for it.

Elain sighed as she forced her mind away from Azriel. It wouldn’t do to dwell on the past, not when she couldn’t do anything to change it. Instead, she made sure to hang up her wedding dress in the corner of the room near the mirror, smoothing out the garment bag before stepping back to appreciate the gravity of the moment.

It was her last night as a single woman, the last time she’d be able to fall asleep on her own without anyone asking questions. Maybe she’d take a long bath, or take some time to read one of those romance books Nesta was always telling her about.

Any plans Elain was making came to a screeching halt as she realized she wasn’t alone in the bridal suite anymore, all the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly standing up. She reached for the closest object she could find — the television remote, of all things — and whirled around to see none other than Azriel lounging against the wall.

She hadn’t seen him in weeks, not since their last argument where she’d finally told him she was getting married and they had to stop what they were doing, but he looked just as good as she remembered. He had on his usual all-black ensemble and it looked strange surrounded by all the white in the bridal suite, but he was so beautiful he could never truly look out of place.

“How did you get in here?” Elain demanded, her heart pounding hard in her chest. The hotel she’d been staying at hadn’t been a secret, but she hadn’t exactly advertised the exact room she was sleeping in.

“Does it matter?” Azriel replied with a nonchalant shrug. He turned his head and stared at her wedding dress hanging in the corner. “Is that what you’re wearing tomorrow? It looks ridiculous.”

“You can’t even see it through the garment bag,” she snapped. He had no right to come in here and insult the few choices she’d been allowed to make, not after all the hell he’d put her through. “You need to leave.”

“Do I?” he asked, utterly unconcerned. He turned back to face her with a look in his eye that made her feel like prey. “Go on, then. Kick me out.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” she hissed. “Get. Out. ”

Azriel suddenly pushed off the wall and stalked toward her, but Elain refused to be cowed even as he towered over her. “Well?”

“Touch me and I’ll scream,” she threatened, tightening her grip on the remote. This close to him she could smell his cologne, and it took everything she had not to give into muscle memory and bury her face in his chest.

“Like we haven’t done that before,” he replied, mocking. He reached out and traced his thumb over her cheek before messing with a loose strand of her hair. “Come on, princess. Scream for me.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. She jerked her head out of his grip and scowled up at him. “That’s not what I am to you anymore.”

“If that’s what you call a scream, I’m concerned for when you’re actually in danger,” Azriel drawled. He took a few more steps forward, forcing her to step back until she hit the wall with a nearly-audible swallow. “Nowhere left to run, Elain. You gonna scream now? Tell someone there’s a big, scary man in your room?”

She closed her eyes in defeat. They both knew she wasn’t going to scream for help, but he was gloating now, rubbing her face in it just because he could. “No.”

“No,” he repeated. A cool hand suddenly gripped her chin and made her look up. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Elain didn’t say anything. She just opened her eyes and looked at him like he’d asked, forcing herself to ignore the way his little smirk was making her want to throw caution to the wind.

“There’s a good girl,” Azriel praised. He shifted his hand from gripping her chin to loosely gripping her throat. “Was that so hard?”

“We can’t do this,” she whispered, but it didn’t stop her from leaning her head back to give him more room.

“Why not?” he asked. “You don’t want to?”

“It’s not about what I want,” she responded bitterly. If what she wanted had actually mattered, she would’ve run away with him the first time he’d offered. “You know that.”

“So why don’t you let me give you that?” His grip on her throat tightened, and she instinctively leaned forward just enough to make it even tighter. “You know he’s not going to give you what you need.”

It was getting harder and harder to justify not giving in. What would it hurt? her mind whispered to her. Nobody would ever find out.

“This stays between us,” Elain demanded quietly. “No one can know.”

“I wouldn’t risk you like that,” Azriel said seriously. He loosened his grip and stared down at her, his hazel eyes almost too intense for her. “No matter what happens.”

“Alright,” she finally agreed. She knew it was stupid — the walls were only so thin, and anyone could walk by and potentially hear them going at it — but she didn’t care. She wanted him too badly, consequences be damned, and if this was her last chance she was going to take it.

“Alright,” Azriel echoed. He squeezed her throat one last time before stepping away from her altogether. “Take off your clothes.”

Elain swallowed hard as she did what he asked. Her hands shook slightly as she untied the thin, white robe she was wearing before moving onto the matching white nightgown. By the time she got to her underwear, her hands were shaking so badly that it took nearly three tries to get them off before Azriel finally intervened.

“Relax, princess,” he told her. He gently knocked her hands out of the way before leaning in for a kiss. She parted for him easily, his tongue sliding into her mouth with practiced familiarity, and she let herself get lost in how good the slide of her lips felt against his.

Once Azriel pulled away, Elain was panting from the intensity of the kiss, but he just smirked at her before dipping his fingers below the band of her underwear. “Daddy will take care of it.”

“I’m not calling you that,” she muttered under her breath.

He just laughed as he got to his knees, slowly sliding her underwear down her thighs as he went. “You say that every time, and in the end you’re begging Daddy to fuck you harder. It’s cute.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled. She stepped out of her underwear and walked toward the bed, leaving him in his position on the floor in favor of climbing on top of the thick comforter. “Well?”

“You’re not calling the shots here,” Azriel replied. She heard him get up and was only slightly surprised to feel his hands on her ass. “The sooner you get that through your head, the better it’ll be for you.”

Elain squealed as he slapped her ass once, twice, three times before moving on. It thankfully didn’t take him long to press a large hand to the top of her shoulders and make her arch even deeper, and when he finally spread her legs wide enough so he could put his face between them, she couldn’t hold back her moan.

“Quiet,” he demanded, slapping her ass again. “You don’t want us to be interrupted, do you?”

“No,” she panted. She fisted her hands in the sheets and pushed her ass further into his face, doing her best to stay quiet even as he started eating her out with clear relish. He knew all the ways she liked it best, and within no time at all she was rocking her hips back into his face with no shame.

Elain was right on the edge of what would’ve been a truly phenomenal orgasm when Azriel suddenly pulled away, and she made a displeased sound. She could hear the sounds of fabric sliding against his skin and figured he was finally taking off his clothes, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of turning around and watching even as she was desperate for him to finish what he’d started.

“Azriel, come on,” she whined, deeply mourning the loss of his tongue. She heard the sound of a foil packet being ripped open and hoped that maybe her begging would sway him to let her come before he pulled an orgasm out of her on his cock. “I’m so close…”

“You can come on Daddy’s cock, or not at all,” he interrupted, ignoring her pleas. She hissed as he dragged the head of his cock between her folds, already knowing what her choice would be. “Choose wisely, princess.”

Elain pressed her face into the mattress and moaned as he slowly thrusted inside her. She’d never gotten used to how full he made her feel even when they were fucking regularly, and now that it had been a while, she felt every inch. They were both panting by the time he finally bottomed out, and she knew it wouldn’t take much for her to come while he fucked her.

“Jesus, I forgot how tight you are,” Azriel said after a few moments. He leaned forward and pressed a few sloppy kisses to the back of Elain’s neck before slowly starting to move. “You take me so fucking good, you know that? Wish I could fuck you all the time.”

She nodded as best she could with her face pressed against the sheets, but he wasn’t having that. She jerked as he slapped her ass again, his voice practically a growl as he demanded, “Use your fucking voice, Elain.”

“I— I take you so fucking good,” she repeated, her face feeling like it was on fire. He made her feel so dirty in the best ways, and she almost hated how much she loved it.

“There’s my good girl,” he replied. He picked up the pace and gripped her hips tight enough to bruise. “You don’t have to pretend to be shy with me, honey. Daddy already knows every filthy thing about you.”

To prove his point, Azriel came to a stop, releasing her hips so he could grab her ass in one hand and lightly rub his fingers against her perineum with the other. They’d never talked about doing something like that before, but Elain found herself wanting it anyway. She would do anything he wanted if it felt as good as what they usually did.

“You want me to fuck you here?” he asked, one large finger circling her rim.

She couldn’t form the words fast enough, but he pulled away with a low chuckle before she could think of anything to say. “Maybe we should save something for your husband.”

“Fuck you,” she panted, hating herself for how much the idea had turned her on. Not as much as she wanted to hit him for teasing her, but it was a close thing.

“I love your little attitude,” he responded, still chuckling to himself. “I hope he appreciates it.”

“Stop talking about him and fuck me already,” Elain demanded. She didn’t want to think about what she had to do tomorrow — she wanted to get fucked, and she wanted Azriel to stop playing around with her.

“Since you asked me so nicely,” Azriel said, and then they were shifting positions. Elain squeaked in surprise as Azriel pulled out, pushed her flat on her stomach, and rolled her over onto her back. He looked so powerful above her as he threw one leg over his shoulder and thrusted back inside her, his brown skin glistening in the low light as he fucked her, and she gasped as he immediately set a rough pace.

“You like watching Daddy fuck you?” he asked as he slammed in and out of her, all lightheartedness gone. His free hand made its way back to her throat, only stopping to squeeze one of her breasts on the way up, and she writhed under the possessive touch.

“Yes,” she moaned. Now that she didn’t have to support her weight, she brought one hand up to play with an almost painfully hard nipple while the other started rubbing circles into her clit. She wanted to come so badly again that she couldn’t find it in her to be ashamed as she added, “Harder, Daddy, fuck me, God you fuck me so good—”

Azriel’s thrusts somehow managed to get even harder, pulling a strangled cry out of Elain. “You gonna be a good girl and come on my cock?”

“Yes, yes, oh fuck I’m coming, I’m coming —”

Azriel let go of Elain’s throat and slapped his hand over her mouth as she came, only barely managing to muffle her cries in time. Her entire body clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, and it didn’t take much longer for him to follow suit. He thrusted a few more times before slamming inside her as he came, pressing his face into the side of her neck to muffle his own grunts.

They laid there for a few moments in silence, the only sound in the room being their heavy breathing. Eventually Azriel rolled off of her and splayed across the bed on his back for a few minutes until he caught his breath. Once he wasn’t panting so hard, he got up and disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes before coming back with a damp washcloth that he rubbed between Elain’s legs.

“Congrats on the big day, princess,” Azriel said once he was finished, still teasing her. “Will you even be able to walk down the aisle after all this?”

Elain forced down the urge to slap him, knowing it wouldn’t get her anywhere. “I don’t care if they have to wheel me down the aisle. I’m getting married tomorrow and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Marry whoever you want,” he replied with a little too much nonchalance. He tossed the used washcloth into a random corner of the room and dressed quickly, his clothes not even rumpled despite being on the floor for so long, before leaning back down and wrapping a hand around her throat. “I don’t care if you have a ring on your finger. You’re still mine.”

“Get out,” she whispered even as she clenched around nothing, her body already wanting more of what her mind knew she couldn’t have.

“Whatever you want, princess,” he said, squeezing one last time before letting go. The bed didn’t make a sound as he got up and stood at his full height, and he didn’t even bother to hide the way he was staring at her bare form. “Mhmmm. I hope he appreciates that as much as I just did.”

Elain sat up and reached for the remote she’d dropped earlier, hurling it in Azriel’s direction without a second thought. “Get out!”

He just laughed before finally leaving the bridal suite. Barely a minute went by before the sound of him leaving before someone else was knocking at the door, and Elain forced herself out of bed to grab a bathrobe before answering it.

Nesta was standing outside her door, brows furrowed in concern. “Is everything okay? I heard you yell.”

“I’m alright,” Elain lied. She shifted the bathrobe tighter around herself in the hopes that it would hide how utterly used she looked. “Just a bad dream.”

“Okay,” Nesta replied slowly. Elain fought the urge not to shift under her sister’s gaze, but she somehow managed to pass inspection. “I was just checking on you. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Elain agreed. She shot Nesta the best smile she could manage before moving to shut the door. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Nesta echoed.

Elain shut the door and locked it once she heard Nesta’s footsteps padding away down the hall, sighing heavily before walking to the bathroom to start the shower. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry, scream, or both, but at least the shower would make her feel better.

At least, that’s what she’d been hoping for, but as she got ready for bed the second time and changed the sheets, it didn’t turn out that way. Nothing would change the fact that she was just a pretty pawn on her family’s chessboard.

#sjmromanceweek2023 #elriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acosf #moodymelanistwrites

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