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shuamorollss · 6 months

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unfortunate unexpectations — l.hs x f!reader

In an everyday attempt to avoid the man you eternally loath. Of course, the universe isn't always by your side as you accidentally reach a dead end, with no other choice but to dance with him.

romcom, regency era, enemies2lovers, just cute bickering warnings— not proofread, first time writing this kind of trope pls bear with me. 2.6k wc + reblogs are greatly appreciated!

author's note— I'm back again with another piece ( I'll disappear for a few months after this)! I wrote this exactly on Hee's bday but I only decided to post it now since i didn't really feel satisfied with this when i finished this a few days ago :/ i still don't so I may delete this when I'm in the mood to make changes ^_^ BUT HERE IT IS!! Happy belated birthday to my hubby wubby @Heeseung 😅❤️❤️

perm tags— @jangwonie @jungwonize @luhvlyuna @w3bqrl @ineedaherosavemeenow @leaderwon

"Would you be so kind and get that for me?"

Oh how annoying. You thought, gently tricking your finger up to block your ears and releasing in an instant, wanting the bothering itchiness to fade. His arms stretched beside you reaching to the the man holding a tray with glasses of wine.

Oh how you knew he did it intentionally.

Heeseung's boldness to give you an order was extraordinary, baffling even. You were not in a higher position than him, and he wasn't much higher than you, though he was just there, and heeseung didn't want to play the "he was just there" role in your life. He always feels the need to spite you at any given time, similar to a cricket making noises while you attempt to sleep.

Though much to his dismay, you certainly do show his own place as just a nobody in your existence; to which he never seems to catch the hint of your unintrestment.

Or he might do, only walking in and out of your life in terms of spitting utter nonsense to your peace.

Honestly, it did work. It made you fume and it certainly made you want to do more than just give out the usual glare and other threatening expressions to the other.

You turn around with utter confidence, meeting the man's eyes unbothered. Your eyes observed his structure, his unfortunately dashing attire, and his pretentious face.

As you check out the details of his sleeves, your eyes darted to Heeseung's exact shift of expression, smirking.

It was certainly expected, yet so mind flaming. You'd rather just explode right then and there than to keep up with whatever he wants to pull to you.

"You know, if a lady looks at someone from head to toe for too long it must mean that they yearn for that someone." He lets out a prideful scoff, eyes mockingly going through you as he sips from the wine glass.

Disbelief in what you heard, you halted your eyes from any further notice. Proceeding to roll your eyes at the man who had unknowingly tinted your cheeks red.

"Don't be silly, I was looking at your outfit. Actually baffling but not surprising for you to wear something so… Eye-vomiting." you spit. Twirling against his view and proceeding to waltz away from his standing figure, not setting a single glance at the man behind you. A fuming smoke sets up your chest at the realization of what you had just done to that awful of a man.

You explore more of the manor by yourself, enthralled by every piece of art plastered on the clean walls. You found an inner piece at the volume of the hallway, no noble bands performing and people crowding the room as they tap their feets and hearts out, it is truly a wonder to feel.

"Lady Y/N!"

Of course, every pinch of euphoria has their cut to its end, as one of your acquaintances calls you out.

"Oh, Lady… Lily? Was it?" You asked softly and loudly, as the woman clicked her heels towards you.

The girl smiles, "Oh yes! Though please, just call me Li."

"Alright, Lady Li."

…

For moments to what felt like hours, chit-chatting with Lady Li as you both walk around the manor corridors. The both of you had now reached your very destination which was the party itself that you so desperately want to be separated with.

You timidly smile at the girl beside you, eyes widened agitatedly at the crowd. "Uhm, Lady Li," The other nodded, her eyes also seemed to be searching through the sea of nobles.

"Why did we decide to return to this room?"

Lily simpers her smile as her eyes turn fixated on one figure, "There he is!— Thank you so much Lady Y/N for keeping me company through the manor." She gives you thanks, walking away with delight eventually linking arms with a man who Lady Li might have been searching for. great.

Another woman infested with men's validation, how unfortunate.

Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the couple in disbelief, letting out a brief sigh at the thought of almost every woman here might be just like that.

"Feeling all bitter now, are we Lady Y/N?", you trembled at the sensation of his teasing breath tickling your ear.

"What on— oh... it's you again."

"The one and only." Heeseung lets out a ridiculous triumphant smile, the smile that makes you feel itchy in all aspects of your body, it was extremely bothersome reaching to the point you would rip your hair out to the unspeakable rage you feel for the male.

"Don't make that face now, a real lady doesn't do that, well— that is, if you are even a lady." He chuckled, always digging deeper into your little actions in an attempt to reach you to the edge. How delightful.

"Your words remind me so much of my younger brother's pitiful counters." You face the opposite once more, your heartbeat slowing down at each step you take far from Heeseung, hoping to have a similar instance from earlier to happen once more.

Unfortunately, the things one desires don't really happen twice. As you hear the footsteps of the man through the crowded noise, the only shattered expectation you wish did not.

"Oh so I remind you of your family now? How thoughtful." His smirk added to his audacious response that could be sensed at such a distance you didn't even know was possible without even taking another look.

"It means you're just as annoying as my brother, don't take it as a compliment."

"I presume older sisters still love their annoying brothers nevertheless, so that must mean you secretly feel that way for me too if I remind you so much of your annoying brother."

"Oh how great, you can go stay in your own personal pride zone Mr. Lee, though that zone, will tell you to cut it out very soon."

"I doubt that, I think I can sense what's true and not true."

"Being ever so ethical now, aren't you?"

"You know what they say… I am that of a gentleman."

"Well so ethical now anymore, 'cause, you see… you claim to be a gentleman which in fact is ridiculously wrong, no, you're not a gentleman."

"Okay lady, I figured that was a mouthful to sneer."

Your eyes widened, subconsciously sighing aggravatingly, utterly lost of the others' words. "Please don't follow me."

"I'm not following you."

"You are? Don't make me feel stupid."

"I don't think I'm doing that."

You continued to walk further and further, you don't know where, it could be just anywhere to be out of this man's grasp.

not even reaching an uncomfortable minute of making your way, Heeseung finally made it way up to you for god-know-what reason.

Only a few more threads left to untangle until you implode, besides showing this man what you're capable of doing, you weren't about to do anything in front of hundreds of people.

You swiftly turn to face the man following, "Look Mr. Lee, don't even attempt to come and step closer—" the hissy grin never ever fading from his look. Before you snap even further, you raise your head as the lights suddenly turn dim, the current music start to tone down as the band plays a new mellow romance.

The both of you faced your worries, silently questioning the sudden change of atmosphere.

"Now, it is time for the party where the gentleman… dances with the first lady they set their eyes on, Amuse-toi bien!"

…

His eyes were on you, and yours on him. Slowly developing the idea you most certainly would refuse to believe.

"No." You shook your head promptly with no hesitation.

"Y/N."

"No, don't even"

"Y/N—"

"No. Not ever. Never in my life. Never in a millennia. You can serve the mediocrity of mediocrity— I am not even paying attention to what I'm saying, but just so you know, I am not dancing with you."

You groaned continuously at his spews, this chit chatter going nowhere at all. Heeseung was also growing exhausted of your opposed responses. Hearing your never ending hatred for him is never known to him, although being in this position during an all rounded dance segment, he was not about to embarrass himself in front of such nobilities.

"Y/N just—" His hand abruptly slid up your waist sending your internal nerves through every stage of shockwaves.

"What are you—" Your words began to halt from his tightened grip, slowly putting power on pulling you closer… and closer… too close to say the least.

"Just this once, we don't want to leave a bad impression at a party we're just mere visitors at." His breath fanned your neck and sent shivers down your spine. Truly a feeling between his embrace that you have never felt before.

Too much of a guilt to even feel, considering this is the man you swore your whole life to loath yet here you are. No other way of escape out of this man's grasp, other than to spend a minute and more with him following the melodious rhythm serenading within the whole room.

"Fine. This doesn't change the fact that I want to scar my name on your face."

"How romantic." His lips curved sarcastically, eyes shifts into pure mockery as it lays on you. You couldn't say if you were teased by his softly menacing gaze or comforted by it. Eitherway, you couldn't register the right words.

"Besides," Heeseung continues, eyes darting away from yours, looking elsewhere within the ballroom, suddenly a light flashes your vision, snapping you back to your current position, right in front of Lee Heeseung.

"I don't even think we could get away from this anyway, we're literally in the middle of the dance floor." His head shifts in every direction to deem his assumption correct, which you mirrored.

It's true, the both of your are really in the middle of the ballroom.

You felt blockage on your throat, as if your vocal chords refused to spit words out of your mouth. The close proximity between you and Heeseung felt extremely new, you wanted to escape it so quickly yet, quite in a state of culture shock of his careful and kind demeanor as his every step to the rhythm of the music are seemingly careful not to make a mistake or you could say in other words, step on you.

The distance soothes, your hands still intact as the both of you walk in circles. His gaze locked onto you as if a man had seen the beauty of the moon for the very first time. He was allured, not only to the sight of your eyes but also your entire attire.

Who was he kidding? He was making fun of how you looked earlier, or was it you who taunted his? Even he couldn't remember. What is this contact causing him?

His eyes followed the direction of your eyes shifting all the way to your linked hands rising, following the rhythm and everyone else's. Only then Heeseung was able to return to his composure.

Being quiet with you didn't exactly make him feel like himself. It's indeed a peculiar case, his eyes fixated on your focused figure attempting for a thought, any words, any attacks, frankly quite anything.

"I feel conceived Lady Y/N," He started, your eyes now transferring to the man.

"Did you walk all the way here on purpose just to lure me in this dance?" He smirks, deeply hoping he did not look ridiculous in your eyes, which in fact, he did look ridiculous to you, though in basic sense, he always does.

You scoffed, "Don't be such a crude, I was walking away from you, or if you didn't understand that, I was escaping you. however, you followed me. If anything, you expected this dance to happen beforehand." You sneered at your words, feeling vastly proud of regaining the upper hand.

"Now now, shifting the blame onto me?" He jokingly asked, swaying forward and backward, then continuing to circle in unison.

"Well, I couldn't be wrong." Your raised your brows at the man, receiving a tuneful chuckle.

"You're ever so ethical now aren't you?"

you scoffed, "Touché."

After a few warm-hearted rhythms, the distance slowly basking in, his hand starts to tenderly slide from your hand up to your shoulder. Now facing your back at a dangerously close proximity. The way his fingertips barely made contact onto your skin yet it still tickled, sending you into unreasonable wonders.

Lee Heeseung? Sending you to unreasonable wonders?

"What if I tell you that I really expected this dance to happen and followed you to be able to have this dance with you?" he breathes out.

Your mind stood place, frozen. It couldn't function solely because of those words.

You knew this was his tactic of his obvious teasing yet... that had sent your heart into places you did not expect for it to reach. Your breathing abruptly stopping at every emphasis you place into his words.

It wasn't any different for the man, he was hellishly anxious.

The way his hand stood still on your shoulder, then slowly sliding it down to your hand the same thing he had done at the start. He felt crazy, he couldn't grasp the feeling whether he's disgusted at this contact or was it, satisfactory?

Heeseung's breath unawaringly hitched in unison to yours.

The high-rising tension the both of you are desperate to escape yet… would embrace it more long.

As Heeseung's hand reached your hand, the distance once more soothes, or did soothe for you? Did it to him?

One spin had the same closeness return, now you two are entirely facing each other.

How did this moment feel too slow? normally the dance routine did not walk this type of pace before, usually it happens quickly before the music finally comes to its end.

The silence echoed immediately through the other's ears, having the slight worry of gkving you discomfort.

Worried? Heeseung, really?

Heeseung lets himself battle his own internal conflicts as the outer silence continued. You were in a desperate measure of developing a genius idea for a comeback yet none came into mind. The unexplained whimsical threw you off, the fact this man had to send you in this type of frenzy was never in your lists of expectations.

Yet now, at this very moment, changed your very view on your surroundings.

All because of this very man you swore to loath ever since his eyes laid on you.

One last twirl to the maiden as the band's instruments faded into the void, completing the romantic waltz.

As everyone in the middle applauded their elegant and coordinated routine just now, both you and heeseung processed your breathledd tension just earlier.

Finally having all the words reached the right parts of your brain, finally having control of your conscious, your hatred to the man came back with it.

"Aww, you really do feel deep adoration for me, Lee Heeseung." you politely curtsied. contrasting to the tone of your voice, as you reply to the man's words from a few minutes back.

Heeseung lets out a chuckle, "You know what? Maybe I do have a thing for such abominations."

"Haha. Aren't you a clever guy." You gave him a wide infuriating smile, as you turn around walking away from his presence, now leaving the man at the middle of the dance floor.

It was a peculiar state for you. You swore you completely lie instense hatred for the man, yet now you're smiling at his mere words that usually drives you to banging your head on the wall, sometimes the urge to bang his head on the wall.

Yet what happened just earlier felt, extremely out of place, something you couldn't quite explain for the time being.

You were conflicted about being bothered by it.

How it bothered your feelings, bothered you deeply.

A memory that surely the both of you would engrave in later lifetime.

...

"Wow, she called me clever."

#enhanet #enhypenwriters #k labels #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #enhypen fluff #lee heeseung fluff #lee heeseung imagines #heeseung imagines #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung

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cherrychilli · 8 months

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18+

AFAB reader, P in V sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, outdoor sex, exhibitionism, slight blood play

A/N: Felt ✨inspired✨ by this poem.

"Normally I tend to choose my words carefully when it comes to such delicate matters. However, seeing you now, standing here in the moonlight, all I can think about is pulling your panties down and fucking you with your socks on" -- Michael Faudet

"You're insane"

"So you're saying you don't want to?"

"You're insane", you avoid the question like a dart aimed in your direction, repeating yourself with added emphasis.

Steve's smile turns cocky, hazel eyes lowering to rake over your body. "If you didn't, you wouldn't have come out here to meet me dressed in that", he points out, more than sure of himself.

Your lips purse. No comeback fighting its way through. No retort on the tip of your tongue. Nothing but the trill of unseen crickets and wind sweeping through leaves overhead to punctuate your silence.

Your moonlit skin must have turned transparent without you sensing it because he's seen right through you, effortlessly seeking out the stray thread that held your coy façade together. "Gonna come clean or are you gonna keep pretending?", and just like that, he unraveled you with a single smooth tug in the form of a wry smile.

The truth was you had lured him there into the woods behind your neighboring houses in your skirt and thigh high socks and a text that started with 'I miss you' and ended with 'come find me'. On the surface it all seemed innocent enough but he was right. You wanted him in places you shouldn't.

You wanted him in the front row of empty movie theaters, just you and Steve and a forgotten movie illuminating your tangled figures. You wanted him inside lonely train compartments going nowhere, nothing but the the sound of your hometown whipping by and breathless cries of each other's names filling the air.

You wanted him where bedsheets and locked doors couldn't conceal your ecstasy. Alone together in places where people weren't meant to be that way.

What you didn't want however, was for him to figure you out so easily. To realize so quickly that the crisp weather wasn't to blame each time you rubbed your thighs together and take smug pleasure in reading you so well.

Being thought of as predictable. It made you want to spit.

You shrink further, your uncharacteristic silence beckoning him closer, the corner of his lips tugging higher.

He's within your reach now - lured again only this time he doesn't know it.

You're going to bite those smirking lips bloody and enjoy kissing them better.

"You like knowing that it's kinda wrong, don't you? 'sthat what gets you so wet?"

Caged between Steve's arms, back against the trunk of an aging red maple, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt, you tip your chin up to run your tongue over his bottom lip and collect the blood that's beading there.

"I like being bad with you", you tell him honestly, swallowing the metallic tasting drop before pressing your lips to his, careful not to worsen the little tear you've made there. He hisses quietly when you part, the sting of your bite becoming more faint with each wash of your tongue and soft peck of your lips.

"My sweet girl...who would have known", he humors with the tone of someone whose known all along.

His fingers slip down to squeeze around the plush exposed skin between the tops of your thigh highs and the hem of your skirt, groaning at how soft and warm you felt in his cold, calloused hands.

"D'you like them?", you wanted to hear the obvious answer in the gruff of his lowered voice, pulse quickening when his fingers dip underneath your skirt. "Wanna take your panties off and show you how much", he finds the lacy waistband, hooking his fingers in and tugging them down.

Dead leaves and dry twigs crunch beneath you as you shift, balancing one hand on his shoulder while you shimmy your hips to help him slide the garment down your legs and over your shoes. You haven't told him yet how good he looks under the silvery moonlight, even when fresh blood bleeds through the split in his lip as he grins at the wet mess in your panties. You hold on to the thought like a secret, ready to threaten him with another bite when he brings the damp panties up to his nose, inhaling you deeply and stifling your almost warning.

"You're not getting these back", he informs you needlessly, tucking the pair into his back pocket for later. You suppose it's fair. A tradeoff for both wounding and underestimating him. "Fine", you utter indifferently but if he were to frame your face with his palms you're sure he'd feel you burning up under his stare.

You need to regain some control. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of having you beg too.

Reaching out, you pull him closer by the belt before he has a chance to reach under your skirt again. Steve makes an abrupt noise of surprise but makes no effort to stop you, watching you unbuckle it before popping open the button on his jeans. You lick at blood again as you work a hand underneath his boxers, clearing his lips of the crimson droplet when you grasp at his hot, stiff length.

"Fuck, you're beautiful", he breathes out, eyes trained on your face as you pull him free, thumb brushing over his silky, leaking tip. That playful arrogance he wore so brazenly only moments ago has drained from his features and you grin back wickedly in triumph. "You always get so sweet when you've got a hand on your cock?", you tease his almost immediate shift in demeanor, stroking a pretty whimper out of him.

He'd make himself into honey if it meant that you'd keep touching him like that - looking at him like you had your fingers held over his pulse, ready to push down and watch his eyes roll back whenever you pleased. He mirrors your earlier struggle, nothing smart or sharp on his tongue to lob back at you, surrendering to your touch with a thick gulp. You stroke him while his forehead presses against yours, the two of you exchanging the same shaky breath back and forth as your fingers grow tacky with precum.

"Stevie"

"Yeah?"

"Does it still hurt?"

It takes him a moment to realize what you mean, the sting in his lip having completely faded now.

"No- uh. No it doesn't hurt anymore", he croaks out his reply, cheeks all pink.

"Good".

And then there's a pause. It's hard to tell, even with how close you're pressed together but he swears the marrying of your brows and the little hitch in your breath means that you're working up the nerve to say something.

"Kiss me".

Something vulnerable flashes behind your sultry eyes. A plea underlying your soft command. Words grasping for some romance to undercut the blood.

And he gives it to you.

Wounded lips on yours, tongue delving into your mouth, a groan that makes your spine spark with fireworks. You feel like you're only burning brighter in the night.

You notice another bead of blood pulling to the surface of his pink lips but the chance to swipe at it with your tongue is stolen from you when Steve dips down to lick over your bottom lip, surprising you. "Got some on you", he says, thumb coming up to rub the remaining red tinge off of your mouth. "Leave it", you manage to stop him before he can wipe it away. "Please", you whisper but when you're this close together it hardly feels like one. You couldn't stand the thought of him erasing the bloodstain. Not when you wanted to wear it on you like rubies.

"Shit, really?", he holds your face in his palms, hazel eyes going wide with a mix of awe and exaltation.

"Yeah... I like it", you confess and suddenly he's reminded of your hand still wrapped around his twitching cock.

"Need to feel you", he breathes out urgently. "Turn around, baby please? gonna cum if you keep talking like that".

The need pervading your body feels so potent that if he were to ask, you'd get down in the dirt on your hands and knees and let him take you like that - rutting into you from behind with your cheek pressed to the earth.

Next time, you promised yourself.

You uncurl your fingers from his cock, pressing both palms against the coarse bark of the red maple, back arching to press your ass out for him.

His fingers squeeze over your thigh highs again, just below the curve of your ass, cock streaking precum on your skirt.

"Fuck- you're so sexy...you gonna put these on for me again, huh baby?, he flips your skirt up, eyes darkening at the sight of your pretty dripping cunt.

"You- ah- you like them that much?", his hand grips your hip, cock teasing your entrance.

"Gonna show you how much", he growls just before pushing in.

If the sounds of your cries carried through the darkened woods, you didn't care who else heard them. The sounds of Steve's grunts and moans muffled by your hair set your belly alight, hips pushing back in a frenzy to meet his rough thrusts.

"You feel so good- you feel so fucking good, angel- fucking soaking my cock-shit"

Your nail polish chips at your filed edges as you rake them against bark, toes curling inside your shoes when his fingers find your clit.

It's all a delicious, dizzying mess under the night sky. Blood and sweat, slick and seed, you and Steve.

Walking back to your door, hand in hand with Steve, his release warm between your legs, you're satisfied now but that tug deep in your chest will make it self known again, need beckoning you back.

The next time you ring his door bell he finds you in a new skirt and thigh highs to match. Knowing smiles exchanged in place of words, he takes your hand as you lead him back to the woods.

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year

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As You Wish (Part 1): Vergil x G/N Reader

Summary: Vergil loses a game of darts

Beginning Notes: Saw a post on Tumblr about how much people want to touch Vergil’s hair, so this was born. Did this get kinda skewed? Maybe, but I like it--I dunno lol. For dart games, I only know how to play 301/501 and I kinda understand how Cricket works; so, sorry I used something so basic lmao 🎀💙🎀 Vergil x G/N Reader Unestablished relationship; however, the two of you being in love is obvious to everyone besides Vergil and you. You live at the DMC with Dante and Vergil. Stupid Fluff

“Alright, I’m headed out!” Dante smiled widely, “Need anything?”

“I’m good,” you reached up and ruffled his hair a bit, “Thanks though.”

The red devil nodded, “Try not to burn down the shop while I’m gone..?”

You clicked your tongue as you jested, “You sure you’re telling that to the right person?”

The two of you shared a laugh as he walked to the front door, “I’ll be back later.”

“Bye, Dante!” you waved as he left and left you alone in the shop’s foyer.

With a delighted hum, you waltzed over to the jukebox, turned on a random track, and grabbed a drink from the fridge. A loud huff left your mouth as you slumped onto the pleather couch.

As you tried to relax, you mindlessly wandered through your thoughts when a certain blue devil popped into your mind, “Mmn, wonder what Vergil’s doing…” a warm smile tugged at your lips at the thought of the suave man.

When the twins came back from the Underworld, you were enamored with the eldest son of Sparda. The contrast between the brothers was enough to pique your curiosity. As time went on, there was more than just your interest in their dynamic, something deeper than that.

At first, Vergil was enigmatic and frustratingly difficult. You felt he was purposely being insufferably insolent towards you; which he definitely was. After receiving a rather difficult contract, it was decided that said elder brother and you were to work together; much to both your irritations. However, as the two of you did more and more jobs together, you began to tolerate one another. Never in a thousand years would you have thought he would be your friend; let alone extremely cordial and, dare you say, kind.

Nowadays, the blue devil is always with you: in or out of the shop, recreational or job-related; it didn’t matter, he was right beside you. Admittedly, you found that Vergil’s presence had become extremely comforting.

A distant part of you wondered if he felt the same about you; if someone like him could find the same unending solace that you do. If you asked the other members of the DMC, Vergil definitely does. It became a regular thing for the crew (especially Dante and Nero) to point out how personable the eldest son of Sparda is with you and how uncharacteristically gentle he is when it comes to you. Your smile grew as you toyed with the idea of your secret feelings being returned.

“Where is Dante?” a serene voice pulled you from your thoughts.

At the bottom of the staircase was Vergil, standing with folded arms, “Oh! Hey- Vergil, I-” you stumbled over your thoughts, “Uh, What did you ask?”

The eldest twin raised a brow at your jumbled words and dropped his original question, “Are you alright?”

“I uh,” you shook your head and sat up straight, “Yeah, I’m good,” you set your drink on the coffee table.

Vergil squinted at you for a moment before moving to the fridge to get some water. Then he turned to head back upstairs.

“Hey, wait,” you stood from the couch and Vergil turned to face you, “Did you maybe wanna shoot some darts? Bet I can beat you.”

A small smirk adorned his lips and he upturned his brow as he responded, “Are you challenging me?”

“Yeah, you can’t be any harder to play against than Dante or Nero,” you playfully winked at him.

He shook his head with a small happy sigh, “Fine, I will be right back,” he turned around and headed up the stairs to his room.

You grabbed the darts from the desk drawer and pursed your lips in thought, “Yeah, sure, as if I have beaten Dante or Nero before… Vergil’s gonna wipe the floor with me…”

Vergil reappeared downstairs shortly after, “So, what game do you have in mind?”

“How about… uh,” you stood there, not knowing what to say since you had only played one type of game before.

Vergil noticed your odd response and softly chuckled, “Let’s do something simple then. How about 501?”

“Sure, that works,” you awkwardly smiled, “Especially since it's the only game I know how to play…”

“Perhaps, if you'd like, I could teach you different games at some point..?"

“I think I'd very much like that,” you smiled at Vergil and failed to notice the light pink that dusted his features.

The two of you finished the first game rather quickly. Despite Vergil’s confidence, you weren’t too far off of his score.

“Wanna play again?” you were practically beaming, even though you lost.

He was standing with his arms folded and leaning against the edge of Dante’s desk, “I don’t see why not,” that’s when Vergil got an idea, “Why don’t we raise the steaks?”

You raised a brow at the man.

The eldest twin stood up off the desk, “Whoever wins gets to ask the loser to do one thing for them,” he had a large smirk and was radiating confidence, “No questions asked.”

You flashed him a wide grin, “You’re so on.”

The game was tense, to say the least. You were nipping at his heels the entire time and it was now down to the wire. Vergil had fifteen and you had twenty points left.

It was his turn. The blue devil had an expression that was akin to the slight frown of concentration he got during a fight; apparently, he wanted to win just as much as you do. In a manner both forceful and delicate, Vergil shot his dart. A triple fifteen. You could see the frustration in his eyes as he went and pulled his dart from the board. He went and leaned against the wall with crossed arms, carefully watching you.

It was your turn. You decided to shut your eyes, hope for the best, and throw your dart. Single twenty. A small huff of disbelief left your parted and upturned lips--Vergil doing the same.

With a large beaming smile, you turned to him, “Guess I win, huh?”

He eyed you coldly.

“Come on,” you slightly pouted at his reaction, “Don’t be like that.”

With a soft sigh, he avoided your gaze.

You walked over to the board with a slight spring to your step, “Now,” you pulled your dart from the board and looked over at the sulking devil, “About that bet~” you playfully placed a hand on your hip.

He regained his air of confidence and folded his arms, “Best choose wisely, I assure you this won’t happen again.”

“Hm…” you went to put your darts away in the desk drawer, Vergil following suit, “I know,” you moved to the stairs and beckoned him to you, “Come with me.”

The eldest twin raised a brow at your request but did as you asked. The two of you went into your bedroom; making sure to lock the door behind you in case Dante came home.

“Sit, please?” you gestured to your bed.

He gave you a confused look but did as instructed.

You pursed your lips and took a deep breath before moving to straddle his lap.

A shade of pink decorated Vergil’s face, “Now what, wanderer?”

A small laugh left your lips, “I didn’t know you remembered that,” you draped your arms over his shoulders.

“I remember many things,” Vergil cautiously set his hands on your lower back.

“Oh?” you hoped he would elaborate, however, he did not.

He gave you a warm smirk, one reminiscent of V’s, “Is this really all you want from me?”

“Yeah…” you gave him a sheepish smile, “Is that alright?”

“I suppose, although,” he gently pulled you closer to him and lowly whispered, “you could have just asked.”

Your face became flush as you felt his head rest against the side of your neck, “Then can- can I ask you something else?”

“Hm..?”

“Would it be okay if I… touched your hair?”

His brow furrowed as he let out a laugh followed by a smokey whisper, “You are sitting on my lap… and you want to know if you can touch my hair?”

“Is that a no?”

He chuckled, “You may do as you wish.”

With a joyful hum, you ran your fingers through his pomaded hair. Vergil was unable to hold back a loud purring from your tender soft touch. The blue devil nuzzled further into the crook of your neck, attempting to silence the unwelcomed happy noise. You knew better than to point it out, however, you let out a small laugh at his odd reaction.

After a few minutes, you removed your hands from his hair. Vergil pouted a bit at your action as he leaned back. The both of you stared into one another’s eyes. Despite Vergil’s assertive nature, he couldn’t have been more nervous and unsure of what to do now.

Slowly, you placed a hand on his cheek and thumbed over his soft skin as a loving smile adorned your lips, “Can I tell you something?”

Upon seeing your half-lidded and warm expression, Vergil’s face became a few shades redder, “Of course.”

“You’re gorgeous, Vergil,” you noticed his brow upturn, “I mean that in the least insulting way, of course.”

He broke off from your stare and had a sheepish smile, unsure how to respond.

You gently placed your thumb and forefinger on his chin, “Vergil..?” you turned him back to face you.

His eyes met with yours once more, however, this time there was an odd shyness to them; one which made your heart flutter. The blue devil’s eyes occasionally broke from yours to look down at your lips.

Your voice was barely audible as you leaned in, resting the side of your nose against his, “May I?”

With a low husky whisper, the blue devil lightly smirked, “Didn’t I tell you to do as you wished?”

Carefully, you placed a sweet peck of a kiss against his lips. Before he could reciprocate, you shot back up from his face in a panic that you had just crossed a line. However, when you tried to stand, you found yourself flipped underneath him.

“Is that what you call a kiss?” he gave you a face that conveyed a mixture of confusion and light disappointment.

“It is,” you pursed your lips before giving him a meek smile and whisper, “Care to show me yours?”

The blue devil dipped down and connected his lips with yours. His lips were warm and oddly affectionate. A small moan left your lips as you felt his fingers dig into the sides of your hips. A smirk adorned his lips as he continued to give you slow fervorous kisses. The blue devil made sure to steal your breath and not allow you to break off from him. You took your hands and ran them through his hair, making him let out an unintentional moan.

Vergil stopped his kisses and pulled back up to look you in the eyes, “Careful, you might not like what happens if you do that…”

You gave him a salacious smirk, “You told me to do what I wished, and right now,” you leaned up to kiss the side of his neck, “All I want is you.”

Ending Notes: Did Vergil let you win? Who knows (He totally did). Might write a part two that is smut. I don’t know. Let me know if you want to see that or not. Also ngl, writing smut has been kinda hard for me to get in the groove as of late, not sure why lmao.

HERE'S PART 2

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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mads-nixon · 6 months

Note

i LOVED those chuckler headcanons - he's my absolute fave in the pacific and there's so little writing about him! could i request some more, maybe chuckler with a medic reader during wartime?

Chuckler Dating a Medic

Chuckler Juergens x Medic!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Hi anon! Thanks for the request!! Love this gif (peep my baby hoosier 🫶) this is about the fictional portrayal of the H company boys on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Being assigned to H company, you meet the boys on the ship over.

The first time Lew sees you, he has to do a complete double-take.

At first he's like, "That's a woman," and then he takes a good look at you..." Wow. that's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," type vibes.

He immediately gets a crush on you, and by the time y'all deploy to Guadalcanal, the poor fella is hopelessly in love, despite not knowing you for long.

Bill and Leckie's teasing is unending, and it's the only time you see Lew clam up and get embarrassed.

When the company first encounters the Japs at Tenaru, Lew's heart is in his throat every time he sees you dart from foxhole to foxhole, responding to the call for a corpsman.

He tried to keep tabs on you, but amongst the smoke and bullets in the air, he lost you. Even though he wanted to go searching for you, Lew knew you were good at your job and that he had his own to do, but it didn't stop him from worrying.

When morning came and the dust settled, he saw you sitting in a hole, staring off into space, your dungarees covered in blood (it's not yours). He freaks out and slides next to you, asking you a million questions.

Lew cups your cheeks gently to get you to look at him, and instinctually, you lean forward and connect your lips. It was s short kiss (really like a peck), but it shut Chuckler up, and he stared at you dumbfounded.

"You just kissed me," he says, his eyes wide.

You smile, your teeth a contrast to the dirt and blood on your face. "I did."

Then...boom, he asks you to be his girlfriend, and you ofc say yes. You've gotta keep it on the DL, but the boys know and joke about it constantly, but you also know they would take the secret to the grave if they had to.

Any time Lew would get even the slightest bit hurt, and I mean like a tiny cut on his finger or something, you'd go in full medic mode.

"I need to disinfect it," and "Let me see, hon."

Deep down, you're absolutely terrified of losing him, so you kind of go crazy making sure you do everything in your power to keep him healthy.

You're probably the mom friend of the group and always make sure they're all doing okay. In turn, Chuckler is always there for you if you want to talk about anything.

Being a medic is draining, and there are some days that you just lay in his arms at night, trying to forget the blood and death you'd witnessed that day.

By the time you got to Melbourne, you were almost to your breaking point. Seeing boys blown to bits and crying for their mothers day after day became too much.

Instead of going out and exploring, you stayed in the stadium and slept like Hoosier. You told Chuckler to go have fun, but he insisted on staying with you. He sat propped against the legs of your cot, rubbing your hand gently, trying to coax you to sleep.

As the months went on in the Australian city, everything seemed to get better, and you took advantage of the time you had with Lew.

You went to the beach, learned how to play cricket, and went on a million picnic dates.

When your orders came that you were going to ship out again, Lew went out, bought a ring, and proposed.

You say yes, and he puts the ring on a chain for you to wear.

On Cape Gloucester, you were often caught up in the medic tent treating infections and other illnesses like the enuresis that Bob ended up developing.

Pavuvu was even worse when it came to sickness. Runner was badly sick with malaria, and you and Lew were tending to him the best you could, but there wasn't much you could do.

You'd stay up all night beside his bedside, keeping tabs on his fever and making sure he didn't need anything. After a few days of this, you were dead on your feet, and Chuckler had to step in.

He'd gently urge you to bed and sit beside your cot, running his hand through your hair. Within seconds, soft snores escaped your mouth and you were out like a light.

From Pavuvu, you went to Peleliu, and nothing could ever prepare you for what you saw there. It was the bloodiest, most horrifying thing you'd witnessed so far. By the time the Marines took the airfield, Leckie, Bill, and Runner had been hit, and you had no idea where Lew was.

When you found him, you almost cried, and he engulfed you in a HUGE hug, lifting you off your feet for a moment.

The pair of you stick side by side through the campaign on Peleliu until he gets hit, and when he does, you patch him up as you try not to fall apart.

Finally, you're called back off the line, and you're by Lew's side the whole time as he's carried on the stretcher to the medical ship. You couldn't go with him, no matter how much you wanted to, so you said a tearful goodbye and kissed him softly, promising you'd see him soon.

You wrote him as you made your way through Okinawa, and you burst into tears when the news of the war's end reached you.

Lew was waiting for you when you finally got to come home. The first thing y'all do is go to the courthouse and get married!

The two of you spend the rest of your lives living outside Chicago in a small town that was quiet and peaceful, except for the trouble your kids caused when became teenagers!

Tag List: @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @flowers-and-fichte @merriell-allesandro-shelton

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag!

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elsandifer · 2 months

Note

The Monkey Island videogame series?

When my sister was born—so when I was ten—my uncle bought me a lizard for Christmas. The idea was that I was presumably going to be feeling jealous after ten years of being an only child, and so I could use a pet. This was, however, not an especially popular move with… anyone really. I thought the lizard was vaguely neat (I named him Iggy), but he wasn’t exactly the most social pet—about all you could do with him is poke him and make it dart around his tank. Also, he ate live crickets, which had a certain gory fun to it but was a bit much. My mother, meanwhile—who had not been consulted on this gift plan at any point—found him terrifying and was constantly afraid he’d gotten out whenever she was out of bed in the night, which was a lot what with the newborn daughter and all.

A couple of months later, I wake up one morning and Iggy is dead. Distinctly the wrong color, laid out over his little heated rock unmoving, no matter how much I poked him or how many crickets I threw in. Blatantly dead. So I do what anyone would do and burst into tears. My father was out of town for some reason, and I tore into my mother’s room sobbing that Iggy died. (I distinctly remember this sounding vaguely like an accusation, as if I were tattling on him.)

My mother, a sensible woman who correctly assessed the lack of shits I actually gave about this lizard, went into the Rainy Day Closet and gave me a copy of The Secret of Monkey Island, which I quickly installed and got myself lost in until the afternoon, at which point Iggy awoke from his torpor and I burst into tears a second time, even more upset that my lizard had resurrected himself than I had been that he’d died.

We ended up donating Iggy to the pet store shortly thereafter, and I happily played through the rest of The Secret of Monkey Island. The insult swordfighting was a highlight I remember to this day, along with the hilarious sequence in which you sneak into the governor’s mansion (or something similar) and watch as the game auto-inputs various increasingly ludicrous commands and various things happen unseen behind the wall you’re sneaking through.

Never played another one though.

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gumnut-logic · 6 months

Text

A still moment.

Cloud sailing slowly across the sky, sunlight and shadows. The flickering sheen of palm fronds gently shaken by the breeze. The clatter of sea air-hardened plant fibres crumpling together and rubbing like the back legs of a cricket.

Birds. So many birds.

At some point in pre-history Tracy Island had risen above the waves and created one of the rare oases of land in a sea of ocean desert and life had taken advantage of it. Birds discovered it and made it their home. Coral colonised it and built the reef his fish brother played in.

Trees, shrubs, ferns, moss, insects, an entire ecosystem unique to the Island had grown.

And eventually it had become his family’s home.

He filtered sand grains through his fingers.

Today had been one of those days where he questioned whether it was worth it.

Of course, it was worth it.

It was his father’s voice in the back of his mind. A familiar timbre and surety.

He had clung to both many times, and they gave reassurance and direction.

But days like today?

They were not enough.

His father wasn’t the one who had to watch a brother fall.

His father wasn’t the one who had to cling to a brother’s hand while he screamed in pain.

His father wasn’t the one who had to face his family with news enough to shatter them.

Was it worth it?

He tried to answer that in the positive but the words crumbled under the weight of anguish.

John had survived.

Barely.

There was a long road ahead and it would be some time before he saw his beloved Thunderbird Five again. He was going to be hell to live with.

A hell that was heaven up against the alternative.

His sigh was like the sound of the world squashing him just a little more.

They followed their father’s dream. It had become their dream.

But at what cost? How much did they have to pay? When did it stop? When was enough enough?

His brothers’ eyes grew wearier every day. Alan, barely into adulthood and already aged by experience. It hurt to watch his spark dim. It hurt to see him struggling with sights and sounds he should have been protected from.

God, he wished he could protect his little brother.

Protect all of them.

The imp in the back of his mind sat down next to his father and smiled. ‘I’m fine, don’t worry.’

He couldn’t help it. He was responsible.

Wiping his hands on his pants, he stood up. His runners were full of gritty sand and the waves mocked him with their regularity.

He rubbed his face, but he couldn’t scrub away the sight of John screaming.

So, he broke into a run.

His feet hit the first of the rocks leading off the beach and he leapt up and back onto the path he had deviated from earlier. Nothing was calming his heart.

The question kept surfacing.

Was it worth it?

His feet pounded amongst the gravel, as regular and as mocking as the waves below.

The view blurred.

God, he was going to stash John on Five and never let him down again.

He would love that.

Something in his heart just hurt.

His feet pounded faster.

His mind’s eye darted over familiar faces. Sadness, fear, Grandma’s tears.

He rubbed his face again and his hand came back wet.

Goddamnit!

Scott staggered to a halt and dropped his hands to his knees, his breath coming in little more than haggard gasps as his head drooped.

Goddamnit.

How could it be possibly worth his brothers’ lives?

A hand touched his back and he flinched away.

But the hand was strong and before he knew it, he was wrapped in even stronger arms, his head drawn to a flannel shoulder, words of reassurance rumbling in his ear.

For a moment, there was just distress and tears.

“He’s going to be okay.” Virgil’s voice was always reassuring. Always there.

Scott pulled away, straightening up and wiping his face. “I know.”

“You did what you had to do.”

“I know.”

His younger brother was staring up at him, worry in his dark eyes. A hand reached up to grip his arm. “You had no choice.”

“I know.” But this time it was hoarse and it hurt so much.

“John wouldn’t have it any other way. Those children owe their lives to your decision.”

“I don’t care.”

“What?” Worry turned to puzzlement.

“Why is John’s life worth less than another.”

“It isn’t. But it is his choice.”

Scott opened his mouth, but his protest died in his throat.

Virgil picked up on it and furthered his point, his remaining hand landing on Scott’s other arm and gripping tight. “It was his choice, Scott. It is John’s life to offer.”

“It was my decision.”

Virgil’s lips thinned. “No. Not really. He would have done it anyway.”

The image of his brother screaming taunted him again. So much pain.

And he had given his permission.

But John would have done it anyway.

Hell, Scott would have done it, if he had had the chance.

Anything to protect his brother.

To save those children’s lives.

Virgil drew him into a hug again and Scott wasn’t sure if it was for him or for Virgil.

Likely both.

Was it worth it?

Children screaming.

John screaming.

He didn’t have an answer anymore.

It just hurt.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #nuttyfic reblog #I had forgotten this one existed

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rmwb-fanfics · 1 year

Text

@hinnymicrofic Prompt 8: Alone

——————————————

“Nappies are under the-“

“Sink — for some reason, yeah,” Harry filled in, smiling nervously.

Andromeda raked a hand through her hair. “I know that you’ve both got this, I know that,” she looked up pityingly at Harry and Ginny, who both stood awkwardly around the front door. “Just… oh, it’s been so long since… well,”

“Which is exactly why you deserve a break,” Ginny reasoned. “Go and have, well, try to have a good night with your sister,”

Andromeda closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. “I will, thanks,”

Ginny nodded.

“Right, well, goodluck! He’s really a good kid, very quiet. Especially compared to Nymphadora,” Andromeda shuddered. Not from the shock of her loss, not anymore. It was a nice thing to see, really. “Don’t burn the place down, I know how the two of you get when you’re bored,”

Harry rolled his eyes. “We’ve got it, Andi,”

Andromeda laughed at her own teasing, waved goodbye, and disapparated.

***

Ginny eyed Harry as he watched over Teddy many hours later. They’d spent countless dayss with the boy over the past year, but this was the first time they’d been properly alone.

She both loved and hated the way Harry looked at Teddy. There was a fondness and amazement in his eyes that made her fall for him all over again.

Not like she’d ever stopped.

But there was also a great sadness there. She couldn’t tell if it was on Teddy’s behalf, or if it was envy. To see a boy grow up surrounded by those who loved him, even if it wasn’t the two that should’ve been there now, playing under blankets and reading stories.

“What are you working on?” he asked her, quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping one-year-old.

Ginny shrugged, flipping through her notebook. “Just an idea,”

“Book?”

Ginny shrugged again. “Could be. Could just be something for me,” her eyes darted to Teddy, limp in a position that didn’t seem all that comfortable. “Or for him,”

Harry smiled at his girlfriend. Everything was so quiet.

Through the open window, the cool May breeze drifted in, bringing the sounds of crickets and the smells of freshly mown grass.

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry spoke softly, breaking the comforting silence. “I want to take him out to the forest… you know, at the end of his seventh year. Maybe something for graduation, I don’t know,”

He popped his knuckles nervously, and Ginny couldn’t help but giggle at his apprehension to his own idea.

She let him continue.

“I think I’ll give him the stone. Just for a bit,” he looked away from her and down to Teddy again. “I’ll leave him alone… just… you know, with Remus and Tonks… he can talk to them properly.”

Ginny cocked her head to the side. “I think it’s a good idea, but I want you to promise me something,”

Harry’s eyes slid to hers. He was blushing.

“Make sure it’s his choice to see them. Don’t force it on him. It has to be like you,”

Harry nodded slowly, his lips curving into a lopsided, rueful smile. “Yeah. Alone and by his choice. Agreed.”

#hinny microfic #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #harry potter #hinny #teddy lupin

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priyankaraa · 2 years

Text

Too Sweet

Author’s Note: I’m trying to bring fanfic Friday back so bear with me. I’m not a huge Jack Harlow fan but I’ll admit he’s hot. Hey, if you lot want smutty Jack Harlow fics, then Imma write smutty Jack Harlow fics. This is Jack Harlow x Baker! Reader. Funny thing, came up with this while watching the Great British Bake Off. Don’t you just love the British.

Warnings: Smutty smut— vaginal sex, oral sex (f recieving), playing with food, Jack being horny and pining for reader, creampie, a bit of a breeding kink if you squint.

Crickets chirped in the dark of the night and the air was chilly, but he needed to see her. He needed to see her beautiful e/c stare up at him with her usual warm glimmer. He needed to see her gorgeous smile contrast against her soft skin. Her needed her usual scent of cinnamon to surround him. All he could think about was how intoxicating she was.

He thought he was mad. He barely even knew her. Yes, he stopped by her bakery almost every day for the past three months and they did engage in small talk but it never went past pleasantries. He craved more than a small conversation over a transaction of hazelnut chocolate muffins.

Fuck, those muffins were his favourite. It was the reason he started coming here in the first place. He was walking along the sidewalk after a stressful interview and someone came out of the bakery. The delicious aroma of something sweet and cinnamon hit his nostrils and he was mesmerized. But when he walked in, he realised that it wasn’t the cakes and pastries that smelt that good, but her.

He asked for a recommendation on what to get and she walked around the counter to have a better look. The bakery was small, homely and he could tell those were the hands behind these magnificent creations right away by the flower that doused her apron and a little smeared on her face.

She smiled beautifully. Threw her head back and laughed when he made a corny bakery joke. That day, he left the bakery with a genuine smile on his face and this lightness to himself.

He’d return almost every day, bringing along another lame bakery joke. She’d laugh every time. He’d blush but blamed it on how warn it was in there. He lusted after her, then it turned to passion and he knew it would soon turn to love.

And here he was, standing outside the glass bakery doors with the closed sign staring back at him, taunting him. He might have taken her presence for granted. He had been busy with shows in the area and didn’t have time to stop by. He hated it. It never did register to him that she ran a business and that she would probably be closed at eleven pm.

Instead of turning back and hopping back into his car, he knocked on the glass door and waited with a baited breath. He knew she lived in the loft above the bakery. He knew she would answer if he knocked.

Y/N woke with a start. She blinked to adjust her eyes to the darkness of her bedroom. Then she heard it again. At first she thought it was an intruder here to steal some of the decadent cakes she had made when she was bored, but then she realised that a thief wouldn’t knock.

She flicked on the lights, slipping into her fuzzy slippers and started down the stairs. Her breath hitched when she saw the curly haired boy standing outside her bakery looking like a lost puppy. She unlocked the door and let him in along with the cold air that bit at her skin.

She was only dressed a pair of silk nude shorts and a matching silk button down. Her favourite pajamas she had got for Christmas. The interior was always warm because of the wonky ventilation so she never wore too many layers, even in the dead of winter.

He huffed, rubbing his hands together as his eyes raked down her body. Her nipples had hardened due to the sudden cold and was poking through the thin material of her shirt. She didn’t notice, shutting the door before turning to him with a tired smile.

He frowned.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” he said, his blue eyes darting to the old wooden clock on her cream walls.

“Oh, it’s fine,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I usually wake up in the middle of the night because inspiration hits me.” She walked behind the counter top and he noticed the empty display. “What can I get you?”

“Well...” he began, suddenly feeling a wave of guilt. It was almost midnight and here he was at a young woman’s bakery/home in need of her famous hazelnut chocolate muffins. He felt selfish.

“Jack,” she said, authority in her voice but a soft caring glimmer in her eyes. “What would you like?”

She leaned against the glass of her display cabinet and the material strained against her skin. The shape of her b/s was now visible and teased him. He wondered if she tasted as sweet as the muffins she made. He wondered if she was as soft and delicate as them too. (PS. b/s can stand for boob size, breast shape, bra size... anything along the lines of that. Being a small breasted woman myself, it’s hard for me to read fanfics where the reader has huge boobs so I put that in there to make it more realistic. This is you after all.)

“I, urm,” he stuttered out. “those muffins I get whenever I come here.”

She nodded slowly, clasping her hands together. “Ah my hazelnut toffee special. I can whip up a batch right now.”

She beamed at him but he frowned. “You don’t need to trouble yourself for me. I can leave.”

“Nonsense,” she gasped, wrapping her hand around his wrists. His heart raced and he thought he could feel her pulse quicken as well, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. “They’re my personal favourite too. I don’t mind. Seriously.”

He couldn’t say no to her. Her followed her into the kitchen and took a seat on her workbench. He offered to help but she insisted, almost scolded, that he sit on the bench and look pretty while she worked her magic.

Magical, indeed, Jack thought. She moved around the kitchen with ease, grabbing flour and sugar. Everything happened almost on instinct. Jack felt honoured to witness this. He leaned back against the wall and spread his knees a bit. He watched her work with dark, hooded eyes. Watched the way her silky pajamas bent according to her movement and how it strained against all the right area. As if she was moving like that on purpose knowing he would enjoy it.

He cleared his thoughts. It was so wrong of him to be imagining all these things right now. “How’s business?” He asked instead, trying to take his mind off the gorgeous woman coated in flour.

Her e/c glanced to him quickly before returning to her mixer that she was steadily adding butter into the sugar. “Good,” she commented softly. “Having Jack Harlow frequent your bakery brings a lot of attention. I’ve managed to make enough for some minor renovations. Maybe some new appliances. Soon I’m sure I’ll be able to start my own chain.”

She beamed with pride talking about her bakery. Her life’s work. Her passion. It brought him joy to see her so carefree and happy.

“And how was the show? I heard you’re going on tour soon.”

Although her voice didn’t waver, her eyes showed her exact emotion. She had grown used to Jack stopping by and at some point, he became more than just a customer. Besides her elderly customers, he was the only person to ask how she was doing, or make a corny joke about baking. It was the highlight of her day.

“It’s tiring, you know, but I love it. The fans, that feeling you get when you’re on that stage performing in front of millions of people. It’s incredible,” he gushes.

They talk a little more about her plans to expand, Jack making multiple jokes about baking and then finally, the muffins were out of the oven and cooled. The air smelled like hazelnut. It was warm. She stood next to him and handed him a warm cupcake. He licked his lips and bit into it, the chocolate was still warm and oozed out a bit.

And then the low, guttural moan he let out sent a pang of need straight between her thighs. She sucked in her bottom lip and watched him with calculated eyes. His head was thrown back and his eyes shut. His neck moved slightly as he chewed and swallowed.

“These are fucking amazing,” he exclaimed, taking another huge bite.

He had scarfed down almost half the batch and they paired it with warm milk since it seemed fit with the time of the night. He offered to help clean up but she ignored him, blowing a strand of h/c out of her eyes.

She was beyond exhausted. She yawned and he saw a sliver of skin peeking from beneath her shirt. He would have given everything to feel her skin against his.

He reached out and touched her cheek. She seemed taken back at first but nuzzled into his warmth. He took a step forward, towering over. He leaned down, his lips inches away from her sweet looking ones.

“Can I?” He asked and she nodded slowly.

He wasn’t just asking to kiss her. He was asking consent to have his way with her, to ravish her. To make her cry out his name in pleasure when he made her cum and then pain when she couldn’t take it any more. He wanted her sweat slicked body pressed against his, heating up the room even more.

And that was exactly what he did.

He had placed her on the counter top and hurriedly ripped off her clothing. He then reached for the bowl of the still warm chocolate that she had used. He smeared a glob across her chest and she squirmed. His soft tongue had lavished at it. It was sweet and mixed with the saltiness from her skin. His lips had wrapped around her pert nipples and her back arched. She had moaned his name softly, hands raking through his locks.

And then he kissed his way down to the dripping heat between her legs. He slowly dragged her panty down, swirling his finger in the chocolate before trailing it along the expanse of her pussy, making sure to swirl it a little extra around her clit. And then with absolute sureity, he knelt down before her and licked off every bit of it from between her folds until she would cum.

Her body jerked, her tows curled and all thanks to Jack and his miraculous tongue. When she had cum, stars had formed on the inside of her eyelids. It was like the weight off the world taken off her shoulders.

He stepped back and she’d helped him remove his clothes until he was naked in front of her. His lips tangled with hers, the sweetness from the toffee and the saltiness from her orgasm invading her tastebuds. She thrived on that.

He stroked his dick once, twice and the tapped the swollen tip against her clit. That action alone envoked a loud moan and a rush of arousal to come flowing out. He had easily slid into her, her warm walls hugging him. It was torture waiting for her to adjust to his size and once she did, he held nothing back.

He fucked her in every angle, hitting spots she didn’t even knew existed. His lips attacked her lips, her neck and her breasts until she shook around him, succumbing to her orgasm. It didn’t stop there. He filled her to the brim with his seed, leaning back to watch her pussy contract around air with his cum oozing out of her. The sight made his cock jump with excitement.

He had picked her up and walked her up to the apartment, throwing her tired body onto the bed, crawling over her and peppering her body with kisses. They’d gone at it again, this time wrapped up in her bedsheets, before they had fallen asleep in each others’ arms.

The next morning she had woken to the sun in her eyes and to a soreness all over her body. She sat up and wiped away the sleep in her eyes, clutching the comforter to her chest to keep her boobs from the cold. However, when she reached to the space next to her it was cold and empty.

She frowned. She could feel her heart start to break. And just when she was about to let a tear escape, she noticed the neatly folded piece of paper on the pillow next to her. It was a note.

Call me. xxx-xxx-xxxx — JH

#jack harlow smut #jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow concepts #jack thomas harlow #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x reader

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tsarisfanfiction · 14 days

Text

Leaving Home

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Jerry, Yan, Jerry's Mum It's a long way from London to New York, and an even longer way when it means leaving behind your family. At least Jerry still had Yan, though. TOApril day 4 - Facing the Unknown, and I continue to write about the youngest canon Apollo kids, apparently. Given how little we know about them, this is of course completely full of headcanons. I have spent entirely too much time thinking about the logistics of a London kid and a Hong Kong kid ending up at Camp, whoops... And am I relishing writing a canonically British kid and not having to overthink whether or not an American kid would say that? Of course not, why would you ever think that? (Yes, yes I am)

Heathrow Airport was huge. Jerry was a born and bred Londoner; crowds didn’t bother him, and while he knew to keep his few valuables – wallet, passport – hidden away beneath layers of clothing where it wasn’t going to get lost or stolen, he had no fear of bodies pressing against him as they rushed past on their way to wherever they were trying to get to.

Jerry wasn’t rushing. He didn’t want to rush, because this was scary.

Not the crowds at the airport. That wasn’t scary. Jerry was used to crowds, grew up with them, knew how to dart through bodies to get where he needed to be.

He gripped his mum’s hand more tightly as he watched his suitcase – it was huge and heavy and also far, far, too small – trundle down the conveyor belt to get eaten by the thick dangling plastic strips and disappear from sight. It started to feel real, now, and Jerry’s stomach was churning because he didn’t want it to be real.

It had been scary when the thing had attacked him, all claws and teeth and dangerous, and he laughed about the old janitor with a limp battering the thing away with a sopping wet mop when he thought about it, because that was funny. A monster wanting to kill him and only not killing him because the janitor was actually a satyr like Mr Tumnus from that book his junior school had forced him to read, except this Mr Tumnus was a good fighter and something about his mop had made the monster explode into dust, was scary.

Even if the satyr thing was sort of cool.

No amount of satyr Mr Tumnus coolness (except Mr Tumnus was not cool, Jerry hadn’t really liked him, but then he hadn’t really liked the book, anyway. Peter with his sword was pretty cool, and some of the creatures were, but Lucy was annoying and Edmund was stupid and he didn’t even remember the name of the other girl) could make up for this, though. One too-big but also too-small suitcase full of all his favourite clothes and cricket bat and mum’s ball and crowds in an airport, and holding his mum’s hand tightly as though he was a baby.

Jerry didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go to America, or New York, or whatever the name of the camp he was being sent to was. He wanted to stay in London, watch Middlesex’s next match at Lords because he knew Grandma had promised Mum to buy him tickets, play with his friends, and keep training to be the England captain when he was grown up.

He couldn’t be England’s captain if he wasn’t even in England!

Stupid monsters attacking him. Stupid camp in America he had to go to. Mum wasn’t happy about it, either, but she’d been firm when he’d tried to tell her he wasn’t going. He’d eavesdropped on her Skype calls with some bearded guy that apparently ran the camp, and she’d had a lot to say that didn’t sound happy, but she was still sending him away.

Jerry had tried every trick he could think of to not go, but now all his favourite stuff was going on the plane – all his favourite stuff except his mum – it was all real and big boys don’t cry but Jerry wanted to so badly.

The stupid airport had barely anything to do. It had crowds everywhere but they were all queues, either for the Costa Coffee that Mum had taken him to earlier, letting him have a triple chocolate muffin for breakfast, or for the big metal arches that everyone had to go through one at a time.

Everyone who was going on a plane, anyway.

Those metal arches were where Jerry was going to have to say goodbye.

They were where Mum was guiding him now, looking at her watch and then the departure boards. Jerry didn’t get what the rush was – it was still hours until that stupid plane to New York took off – but she was acting like they were running out of time and he needed time to stop, go backwards, make it so that this didn’t happen at all.

Yan appeared next to him, with just their backback slung over one shoulder carelessly now their own big case had also been munched by the heavy plastic strips. Mum didn’t let Jerry wear his like that, and Jerry knew better, anyway. Yan had lived in London for a year but they still hadn’t worked out that being careless with bags was stupid.

Jerry liked the older kid. They didn’t make fun of him for not being able to spell, or for caring more about cricket than school (who cared about school more than cricket, anyway?). He hadn’t known them very long, because they were in the year above him and the older years didn’t mix with the younger years, but he’d met them a few times in the gym, and on the playing ground at lunch time. They were good with throwing a ball, and good at batting, too, even if they still refused to admit cricket was the best sport in the world.

They’d also been there when he was attacked.

When they were attacked, because Jerry wasn’t the only one being forced on a plane to stupid America-New-York-Camp-Stupid, but Yan didn’t seem to care much.

But Yan’s mum was back in Hong Kong and Jerry didn’t think they’d spoken to her much since they’d arrived in England. They hadn’t said much about why they were in London without their mum, why they called the adults they lived with Mr and Mrs with manners and nothing else, but Jerry thought this wasn’t the first time they’d been told they had to go move elsewhere.

Yan didn’t say stupid things like “you’ll enjoy it” or “you won’t even miss England once you’re there” or any of the other things Mum had tried to say, and not-Mr-Tumnus had tried to say. Yan didn’t say anything at all on the topic, agreeing with him that America was full of heathens that didn’t understand how to play a perfectly good game instead.

At least he was going with Yan, if he had to go with anyone, Jerry supposed. Yan was pretty cool.

The man that met them near the metal gates had a big smile and sharp cheekbones. His ears were kinda pointy, which was weird but also cool. Jerry hadn’t known people could have pointy ears like that. He wore a smart dark blue suit and a colourful red, dark blue and white tie, which looked a lot like the sorts of things the flight attendants wore on the billboards.

“Hey there, kids,” he said, and he had a weird accent, mostly British but with a little bit of a twang when he said hey. “My name’s Geoff and I’ll be looking after you guys until we meet with your escort Stateside.”

Jerry didn’t want to go with him. Going with him meant saying goodbye to Mum and he didn’t know when he would see her again, because she wouldn’t say when he asked! All he knew was that this was because he got attacked, because his Dad had ways to keep him safe if he went to America that apparently couldn’t happen here, in London.

No-one had told him how Yan fit into this, exactly. The older kid was looking at the flight attendant intently, before nodding.

“Yan,” they said. “They/them.”

Jerry prepared to punch the guy if he said anything mean. Almost everyone at school, including the teachers, and insisted on calling Yan he for stupid reasons like “you’re a boy,” when Yan wasn’t, and not-Mr-Tumnus had been one of the few cool adults that didn’t.

The guy didn’t say anything stupid, though. “Neat!” he said instead, “thanks for telling me. You okay with ‘guys’ or do you want me to drop that?” He didn’t even sound sarcastic, and Jerry saw Yan relax a little.

“Guys is fine,” they said, and Jerry saw them grin, a little bit. They liked this guy, he realised, and that meant he couldn’t be mean to him, because Yan didn’t like many people.

“I’m Jerry,” he said, and because Yan had, he added, “he/him.”

They got another grin from Geoff. “He/him for me, too,” he said, a bit late but it was better than pretty much everyone else. “We’ve got to tackle security soon,” he added, and Jerry frowned, because that meant leaving. Geoff put a hand on his shoulder and he wanted to snap at him to mind his space, but there was a look in his eyes that made Jerry falter.

“I-” he started, and to his horror he started crying after all.

Mum grabbed him in a tight hug. “Oh Jerry,” she said, and her voice was shaky. “You’re so brave. Get Chiron to call me when you arrive, and screw the timezones. I expect you to Skype me regularly, okay?”

She’d said all of that before, back before Jerry had had to say goodbye to his bedroom and its weirdly bare walls. His posters were carefully rolled up in his too-big-too-small suitcase, too. Jerry had already promised all of that, but he promised it again, sobbing and trying not to feel like a baby.

Yan and Geoff had walked away a few steps, he discovered when Mum finally pulled back, but not after leaving a disgustingly wet kiss on his forehead. “I love you, Jerry,” she told him firmly. “Never doubt that.”

“Love you too, Mummy,” he admitted, wiping his eyes with his sleeve because he was not a crybaby. Yan’s host family had left them at the entrance as soon as they’d seen him and Mum, and Yan had simply shook their hands and thanked them for letting them live under their roof for the past year. They hadn’t cried.

He didn’t know if they had when they’d left their mum, though. Maybe they had.

Maybe Jerry would be brave enough to ask, one day.

“Ready to go on your adventure?” Geoff asked him, and Jerry wasn’t but Yan was waiting for him and he was done being a crybaby.

“I’m coming,” he said, and gave Mum one last, tight squeeze around the middle, before he straightened his back and walked away.

Yan slipped their hand into his and squeezed it lightly. Boys didn’t hold hands, but Yan wasn’t a boy so that was fine. Jerry squeezed it back, tighter.

He was still terrified, but he could be brave. He wiped his eyes furiously as Yan and Geoff led him towards the metal arch and once he was certain they were dry he turned around.

Mum was crying, but she was smiling, too, and he waved at her, not stopping until Yan led him around a corner and he lost sight of her.

“It’s rough,” Geoff said as he directed them into putting their backpacks and coats into deep plastic trays, and made them take their shoes off. He did the same thing. “I was about your age when I had to move to the States without my Mum, too. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not brave for doing it, because it’s hard and by the gods we deserve medals for that.”

Yan snorted. “I want two medals, then,” they said.

Geoff grinned. “I’ll see what I can manage,” he promised. “Now, through the box you go, then we’ll go watch the planes come in from the VIP lounge until ours gets here. How does that sound, guys?”

VIP lounge. Jerry supposed he liked the sound of that, at least.

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfiction #toapril #toapril 2024 #tsari writes fanfiction #toa jerry #toa yan #toa jerry's mum #gwendolyn allen #geoff keys #original character

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dancingtotuyo · 7 months

Text

Scathed (Javier Peña) Chapter 5

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Anxiety. References to panic attacks. Bad dreams. Talk about real life drug lords (Narcos TV interpretations). References/Ilusions to Trauma, PTSD, grooming, & abuse. some angst? no comfort?

Words: 2,446

Series Master List | Author Master List

He raced through the comuna adrenaline pumping in his veins. He chased and chased the figure, never catching him, never gaining any ground. His heart pounded in his chest. Sweat dripped down his head. The shirt he wore clung to his skin. He rounded a corner, but there was no perp. He wasn’t in the winding maze of the comuna anymore. He was back in Texas in a spacious backyard. He could hear her panicked gasps for breath, a crumpled ball on the ground, Anna running past him, his feet frozen to the ground. He struggled to catch his breath. It seemed to play on a loop: Emily was always there on the ground, Anna always rushing toward her, his feet unmoving.

His breathing sped up. Panic started to overtake him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t look away as Emily choked for air. It took him longer to realize he did the same. Darkness edged at his peripheral creeping inward. He couldn’t catch his damn breath. He felt lightheaded. The last thing he saw before the darkness took over was Emily on the ground.

Javier sat up. His chest heaved. Crickets chirped outside his bedroom window. Bedsheets twisted around his waist. His skin was sticky with sweat. The sheets felt damp beneath him.

He froze. Javier Peña didn’t freeze, and someone suffered for it. How many more had to suffer because of the drug war? Even removed from it, the scars still shone red and angry.

He still couldn’t face Emily. It had been months since Escobar was killed. She brought Alejandra for riding lessons every week. He always found a reason to be gone. He’d passed them in the driveway a handful of times. He couldn’t even look her way.

Journal Entry

April 8, 1994

5 years feels like a lifetime and just yesterday.

Dad thinks we should celebrate. I just want the day to pass without thinking about it. The kids are grumpy, even Mateo. It’s like they just know somehow.

We’re going out to the Ranch tonight for Alejandra’s riding lesson. I usually leave the boys at home, but I’m going to bring them this time. I think it will be good for all of us.

Dust drifted around the car as they filed out. Alejandra darted straight to the riding rink. The boys pooled around her. Emily expected to find Chucho in the rink, but instead landed a figure in jeans a size too small.

“Mr. Javi!” Alejandra smiled brightly.

Javier turned from saddling Hurricane. He smiled, but his movements were stiff. “Alejandrina!”

Ale asked if they would see him before every lesson. Emily usually changed the subject. The closest she’d come to laying eyes on him since December was when they passed each other in the driveway.

Emily tried to put it out of her head. It shouldn’t bother her. They weren’t friends, but it had felt like maybe they could’ve been. He knew more about her than most people. Apparently, he drew the line at panic attacks. That was good to know.

“Are you doing my lesson this week?”

“I am.” He pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. “Pops is out of commission for the next few weeks.”

“Good lord, Javier.” They heard Chucho before they saw him. He hobbled out of the barn on crutches. “I’ve hurt my foot, I’m not completely useless.”

“What happened?” Ale asked.

“I stepped in a hole.” The older man rolled his eyes. “Doc says I fractured my foot. Lucky for you, Javier is quite the horseman.”

Javier forced another smile. The light lens of his sunglasses allowed Emily to see his eyes. He looked around her and past her. Emily pretended not to notice and crossed her arms. It shouldn’t bother her. They weren’t friends. She shouldn’t be hurt by his reaction.

“Chucho, can I practice with the lasso?” Miguelito said. Mateo bounced on his feet next to his older brother.

“Of course, you know where to find everything.”

“Thank you.” He took off, Mateo hot on his heels.

“No hog-tying your brother!” Emily called after them. “Or tying of any kind!” She wasn’t sure they even heard her.

Chucho laughed. “He's getting quick with it.”

“Too quick.” Emily narrowed her eyes at the older man. “Maybe I’ll send him out here. He can put those skills to good use instead of chasing his brother around the yard.”

“Perfect, he can help Javier out while my foot gets better.”

“Miguelito, give it back!” Alejandra said.

Emily’s head snapped toward the barn. Inside, her eldest held the riding helmet above his head, just out of his sister’s reach.

“Miguel.” Firm and simple, her command was clear.

He jumped. Emily hated the look that flashed in his eyes. Their power struggles had mostly dissipated, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t return. She had a feeling he knew what that name felt like on her tongue. She prayed she was wrong.

He handed the helmet to Alejandra, not meeting his mother’s eyes.

“I found it!” Mateo lifted the lasso above his head and Miguelito dashed after him brushing past her and narrowly avoiding Javier.

Emily cursed internally. She fought the urge to run after him. She couldn’t approach him around others and pull him away from the group. That never worked. He would shut down. He needed the stillness of a quiet house just the two of them.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t apologize. They’re kids.” Javier said. She still noted the way he looked past her.

Emily pulled Alejandra in front of her. “We’re all in rare form today,” she sighed, quickly sectioning Ale’s hair into two, then braiding the first one.

Chucho hobbled in, a sympathetic smile on his face.“Don’t worry about it, dear. We know.”

Emily forced a smile as Alejandra fidgeted. “Hold still, Mija. I don’t want to pull your hair.”

Javier looked at his father for answers. What exactly was he supposed to know?

Chucho pointed to the calendar on the stable wall. Javier looked at it still not making heads or tails of his father’s cryptic message. Chucho hadn’t written anything on the calendar. Did it have something to do with the date? Most of the time, Javier wasn’t sure what day of the week it was.

He’d gone into the supply store on Wednesday. That was two days ago. His eyes scanned the calendar. April 8th. A small pang settled in his chest. Everyone in the damn DEA knew April 8th.

“Okay, all braided up,” Emily said.

Javier’s head snapped her way. He finally looked at her. Sunglasses sat on top of her head revealing dark circles under her eyes. She looked comfortable enough in her environment, but her shoulders sagged. Tension creased her forehead. Her eyes flickered out toward the yard where the boys played. She twirled Alejandra’s braid.

She knew April 8th too. Of course, she did. She probably knew it better than anyone. Had she been there when they captured Felix? What had it felt like? She looked up, catching him dead in the eye. Javier swallowed, feeling like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Emily’s head titled to the side.

“Are you ready, Mr Javi?”

He looked down at the girl. “Sure am, Alejandrina.” He clapped, forcing a smile onto his face. Suddenly aware of the delicate space he’d been brought into. How did he keep getting pulled into this? He proved himself unworthy last time. He couldn’t be trusted.

“Helmet, Mija.” Emily remembered before Ale could dash out of the barn.

Alejandra grabbed it rushing out. Javier followed close behind.

Emily sat on the mounting block as Alejandra rode around the rink watching as Alejandra diligently followed all of Javier’s instructions. She was becoming quite the equestrian. Emily didn’t have the words to describe it, but there was nothing like watching your child grow into their own in a hobby that brought them life.

Her eyes flickered over to the boys nicely taking turns with the lasso. Chucho had shown them to the shed where they’d rolled out barrels and stands to practice their aim. An argument had yet to break out between them. She was convinced Miguelito was only sharing so nicely to one up his younger brother.

“I pulled a few extra steaks out for dinner.” Chucho settled next to her, observing the lesson.

“You didn’t have to-“

He waved his hand in the air as if he was shooing her off. Emily bit back a smile. “You’re staying for dinner, Mija.”

Emily knew there was no room for argument with Chucho. It was oddly relieving. He made the decision so she didn’t have to. “Okay.”

Chucho wouldn’t let Emily help him in the kitchen. Try as she might, he simply shooed her out everytime, even kicking her away with his crutch once. She felt useless as the kids played a card game contently at the table. She didn’t know how that happened. They’d been at each other’s throats all day.

“Chucho, please let me help you.” She sighed. Her hands itched to do something. It was the anxiety.

“Why don’t you take Javier a drink? That boy was wound tighter than a stripped screw when he went out.” He looked back at her. “You could use one too.”

Emily huffed glancing out the sliding glass doors. Javier stood over the grill, waiting for the charcoal to get to temperature. He was hardly a boy. This would be a great chance to talk to him, figure out what’s going on. She looked back at the kids,

“I’ll call you if they get into trouble,” Chucho said.

It was enough for her. She grabbed two beers from the fridge and headed outside.

The patio felt different under the golden sun. Not in a bad way, but just different. Javier didn’t look up from the grill. He caught sight of her from his peripheral.

“Here.” Emily held out the bottle.

Javier accepted, eyes still trained away from hers. He popped the top off with relative ease, letting it wash down his throat.

Emily shifted her weight around, waiting for him to say something. It didn’t come.

Popping the lid from her bottle, she sipped the beverage. Beer wasn’t her top choice, but it isn’t awful. The grill sizzled as Javier moved the steaks from the plate to the hot metal.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

His attention wasn’t pulled from the task at hand. “No, I haven’t.”

“Bull shit and you know it.” She could feel the hurt beginning to set in. She didn’t like being hurt. There was no reason to let her feelings get involved.

“You have a standing appointment every Friday.”

“Who says I don't?”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

Javier’s heart sank. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he heard it in her voice. He had.

She stared out at the field, sun setting in pink and gold. Emily’s heart raced with the unspoken words just sitting on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t do things like this. This was scary. This was asking to be hurt, but she let the words slip anyway.

“I felt safe with you, Javier.” She locked eyes with him. “That doesn’t happen often- especially not with men and I-“ Emily bit her lip. “I don’t want to lose that.”

Javier watched the steaks sizzle. How could she feel safe with him when he didn’t feel safe with himself? He couldn’t be trusted. He proved that when he worked with Los Pepes, when he failed to protect so many from the drug war.

“You shouldn’t.” He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. “I’m not a good person- I’m not safe. You know that.”

“You keep saying that-“

“Because it’s true.” He took a long swig from his beer, flipping the steaks.

Condensation cascaded down the side of your Amber bottle until it hung from the bottom, slowly increasing in size until it finally fell to the patio beneath your feet.

“I’m sorry.”

Emily cocked her head to the side. “For what exactly?”

“For-” Javier stuttered. A lump formed in his throat. “For the panic attack.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, watching the steaks as if they might burn at any second.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

He shifted from foot to foot, hand on his hip the other scratching his neck. He looked unsure of himself.

“Javier, you didn’t cause my panic attack.”

His head snapped up as if that thought never occurred to him. She read disbelief through his orange-tinted glasses. She’d said it so matter of factly and without hesitation. “What?”

“I have trauma. Sometimes I can fight the memories and latch onto the real world. Sometimes, they take over despite all rationalization. Escobar’s death, it just made everything a little more raw.”

“I asked you what you were thinking about, I started the spiral. It-”

“And I obliged. You didn’t force me to do anything.” Emily sighed, threading her fingers through her long curls. A dry chuckle left her throat. Confidence surged through her, a rare occurrence. Suddenly, the 5th anniversary of Felix’s arrest strengthened her. Five years was a long time and she was still here.

“God, I wish people would stop acting like their actions control me! You don’t. Just because I can’t always control myself doesn’t make you responsible for me! Or anyone else for that matter!”

Javier felt a slight smile overtake his face. The guilt relieved but didn’t go away completely. She seemed more self-assured than he’d ever seen her, not that he had a lot of history there.

“I’m not some inept, helpless foal.”

“You’re right.”

Emily looked back at him almost stunned by his response. Her eyes were wild like he’d grown to know, but there was no fear right now. This was different. This was bold and unbridled like a horse once caged, branded into submission, but now free. Musteña.

He wasn’t going to use the nickname. That felt too intimate. He didn’t want to spook her.

Were they even friends? He thought he may want that. His friend, Emily. It sounded good in his head, had a nice ring to it

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.” He adjusted his sunglasses with his pointer finger. “Maybe we could try this friend thing.”

“Friends, huh?” Emily crossed her arms.

Javier chuckled. “Can’t promise I’ll be a good one. Don’t have a lot of practice.”

“And you think I do?” Emily cracked a smile. “I’ve got one friend, and it’s my boss.”

“That’s one more than me.”

A laugh slipped from her lips pulling a smile across his face. Yeah, he could get used to this.

#Javier peña #narcos #javier peña x ofc #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #scathed

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writeformesinpie · 2 years

Text

Something Wicked

Chrollo x GN!Reader

Summary - On your way home from work – late while most of the town is asleep – you find yourself surrounded by smoke that you can’t seem to escape all while stuck inside with a stranger.

Genre - Horror

Warnings - Dub-con, choking, asphyxiation, smoke, fear of death, sexual tension, almost smut, in public (although there is no one really around) but outside in the middle of the night.

Word Count - 1.8k

A/N - This is a drabble request for my impromptu 1500 follower celebration.

There’s a chill in the air tonight.

The moon is hidden by ash factories and charcoal clouds. Looking away from the sky you fold your arms across your chest to block out the stiff breeze pummelling against your thin sweater, piercing your skin. Scurrying under a flickering street lamp, you can’t help but feel uneasy.

After gulping down the crisp night air, you hold your breath and listen to the thudding of your heartbeat, the malfunctioning light, and the thud of your footsteps. No crickets? Not even the electric pulse of the modern world we are so used to?

Who knew silence could be so terrifying?

Rushing down the deserted street, your eyes dart from side to side as shadows play in the corner of your vision. Swallowing hard you rub at your neck in a feeble attempt to sooth your dry scratchy throat as the smell of burning rubber, no, burning hair reaches your nostrils, the smoke quickly surrounding you. Batting at the scorched air with a flimsy flick of your wrist, you fold over and hack up the foul vapour, trying to cough it up out of your lungs.

Who would be working this late and what the hell are they trying to dispose of?

Despite your sputtering you jog across the street and continue your quick pace on the other side of the road. You need to get as far away from this building as fast as possible. Whatever is going on over there is none of your business. You just want to get back home, have a long shower, crawl into bed and try to forget this night ever happened. You never should have left. Filling in at the last minute for one of your co-workers seemed like a great idea at the time. You needed the extra cash, that's true, but the walk home after the buses had stopped their ventures for the night didn’t seem worth it.

As the smoke starts to thin out your steps become less frantic. The breeze has changed directions and is no longer blowing it directly towards you. With each new breath the aching in your chest alleviates a little more until you finally fall back into your original rhythm. The beating of your previously erratic heart slows and you almost feel at ease. Almost.

Something’s off. The air is clearer here, the smell of smoke almost completely gone. The darkness is punctuated with spots of light from the street lamps and although that should make you feel safer it has the opposite effect. The shadows are dancing just out of your line of sight and it has you on full alert.

After all, aren’t those footsteps you hear behind you?

Holding your breath you tread lightly and confirm your suspicions. There is someone behind you. Did they start following you after you left the factory or are they like you, just on their way back from work at this ungodly hour?

The tapping behind you quickens. You’re too much of a coward to look. What if they’re dangerous? They are close enough now that you can hear them breathing. Is this really how you’re gonna die? In a shitty forgotten town on the edge of every map? A murder that doesn’t even make the front page – or worse, a missing person who doesn’t make the side of a milk carton. Just another lost in a sea of the misplaced.

No. You won’t go out without a fight. Turning on your heel, you hold up your hands in balled fists ready to attack and let out a guttural howl.

Nothing.

The street’s empty of everything except the echo of your primal scream. The buzzing has returned: the sound of the electricity lines above you. Had the power been out? Circling the spot a few times you squint, staring into the darkness around you, but there’s nothing out there. Swallowing hard, your throat still dry, you turn back towards your original path and gasp.

How many times had you spun around and seen nothing? There was no way your eyes had skimmed past him. Danger. The hairs on the back of your neck stiffen as you feel a shiver roll down your spine. Danger. The word flashes on repeat inside your mind. Danger.

He’s under a blinking street light. Broken, like everything else in this town. His hair is slicked back, his neck and shoulders flaring out with the feathery white fur attached to his long dark coat. His chest is bare. He’s ripped; there’s no way you can overpower him. He has a cross tattooed on his forehead which means one of two things: he’s a nice religious boy, or he’s a complete cultish freak. You’re betting on the latter.

Shifting one foot back, you shift and pivot, twisting around to sprint back the way you came, flight reflex in full force. Each step taking you further away from the eerie mirage brings you closer to the smoke you had just escaped. Running on tired legs, your knees scream out in frustration. After being on your legs for the last few hours they are running on pure adrenaline. Literally. You sneak a look behind you. He’s still there. He hasn’t moved. He isn’t following you.

Fire convulses within your chest and you wheeze, desperate for air. Bending over you gulp and huff, frantic for air as your body tries to recover from your little stint. Pins and needles crawl up the back of your legs until they almost swirl in your chest. What is in that smoke?

Taking your time to let your breathing and heart settle before you straighten, you look towards the stranger but the smoke is blocking the way. Frowning, you swat your hand at the mist-like substance in a feeble attempt to move it. There’s so much of it now. You glance behind you then frown.

You can’t see anything, only the smoke.

You turn on the spot – a full 360 spin – and still can’t make out anything. Is it better to go and check, see if he’s still standing there or to try and get further away?

No way you’re going back towards that stranger. Although, now that you’ve spun around so many times inside the grey wall caging you, it’s hard to know if the way you’re facing is indeed the way back to him or the way back to the diner you just left. Gritting your teeth as tears sting your eyes, you barrel through the smoke, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The smoke doesn’t end. There is nothing but smoke. There’s no left or right, no up or down, there is only smoke.

“What the fuck is happening?” The words are whispered as you crouch down to see if it’s thinner at your feet. It isn’t.

“Where are you trying to run?”

Jumping, you stumble and almost land on your back. Instead you jut your hands out to steady yourself. Tiny pieces of gravel stick to your skin as you propel yourself back up. There’s no one here. No… There is someone, you just can’t see him. Can he see you?

Holding your hands out in front of you, fists clenched, you inch your feet to the left, each step deliberate as you take your time to search the area. You still can’t see anyone.

“Who’s there?”

“What did you see back there?” The voice is behind you but when you turn there’s only smoke.

“I didn’t see anything,” you say, swiping at the air in front of you in a half-assed attempt to find the stranger. It’s no use, the smoke is too thick. You won’t be able to see him until he wants you to. “Just smoke. All I saw was smoke.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice is alluring, warm and inviting, each word almost a song on his lips. “Like a symphony.”

“What?” Can he hear your thoughts? You spin around several times, eyes frantically searching the thick grey.

“The smoke. It’s gorgeous.”

He’s behind you. His voice is close enough to tickle your neck. Needing to turn yet not wanting to look, you stay still and tell yourself it’s because you don’t want to move, not that you can’t.

First you feel the heat of his body consuming yours from behind, his whole being trying to overpower you with its mere presence. It’s a battle that you lose, relaxing against him, your back against his chest. Next you feel his fingertips dance up your arm and across your collarbone. Heat spreads from your cheeks out to your ears as you let his hungry hands explore your skin.

“You know the difference between humans and puppets?” He curls his fingers around your neck and squeezes.

“No,” you choke out the word as your throat air constricts.

“Neither do I.'' He chuckles, his second hand assisting the first. Your lungs are screaming for air. Water springs to your eyes as you claw at his hands. He doesn't budge. When you try to kick your eyes widen and your heart races as you realise they won’t move. Your legs are limp.

Growling low within your raging chest, you reach out and dig your nails into his face with every last bit of strength you have. He tuts but lets go. You slam to the ground with the majesty of a drowned rat.

“How interesting,” he purrs, pulling you to your feet. His lips curve into a sinister smile before they crash down on yours. As you press your weak arms out against him, he engulfs you in a tight embrace, one of his hands tangling in the nape of your hair while the other grips tightly at your waist. His lips are desperate, hungry.

“Humans are–” he stops to chuckle, looking down at you and you notice your clinging to him like he’s a life jacket and you’re stuck in the middle of the ocean. Your leg is wrapped around his waist, your mouth slightly ajar and waiting. What is this mystic hold he has over you? Is it his smell? Intoxicating, a hidden treasure buried beside a brook in the middle of a jungle, his scent is foreign and carnal, yet somehow also sweet and sticky.

“Humans are what?” You try to imbue distaste in your voice but instead it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

He kisses down your jaw, ignoring your question. You breathe him in, cotton candy and musk, a combination that should make you sick yet somehow has you on the edge of desire instead. Slamming out a hand to stop him you realise you’ve made an error. Skin on skin, the heat rising between you both. You look up at him, eyes wide as heat spreads past your face and down throughout your entire body. If the muscles ripping under your fingertips are anything to go by, he takes care of his body. Letting your fingers drag across his naked skin you can’t help but wonder what his skin tastes like.

“Humans are very amusing,” he says, his hands cupping your ass, forcing you to swing your legs around his body to balance yourself. “Amuse me some more.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this content! If you did, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging and/or following, and check out my masterlist for similar content. Have a great day!

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ensnapemysenses · 2 years

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omgomgomg snape fic where its his birthday and professor reader shows up to his class with cake and balloons and all while hes teaching and everyones like * cricket noises* and hes tearing up bcs someone remembered?? and readers like ofc i remembered i love you mf and omg you love me????? while the students are like hUh..?

The Surprise of a Lifetime

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Snape x Professor Reader

Word Count: 784

Warnings: Slightly suggestive content

Masterlists

Ever since Snape had told you his birth date when you two had begun dating, you had placed a reminder of it in the back of your mind, carefully filed away for when the time came. That special day of his was soon approaching now and you had a devilish surprise planned for him.

You dare not mention his birthday, it’s better he thinks you have forgotten as you want him to have the surprise of a lifetime. Snape keeps dropping hints that something is coming up but you continue to play dumb. You can tell he is beginning to get pissed off at you, deciding to ignore his snappy attitude you continue with your planning. You know it’ll be worth it in the end, perhaps he will even rail you as thanks.

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” Snape nonchalantly asks the evening before his birthday.

“Not really. Why do you ask?” you respond, not looking at him as you begin tidying up the coffee table of your drinks from the night.

“Nothing,” Snape mumbles under his breath, trying to hide his disappointment. “I just figured we could go out on a date or something.”

“I’m sorry, Sev. We both have a lot of work to do tomorrow. The closest thing to a date we will get will be us cozying up on the couch grading papers together,” you say leaning down to give him a kiss on his forehead.

“I suppose that will do. I’m really tired (Y/N), I’m going to head to my chambers to go to bed. Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Snape says in a quiet voice, his head held low, as he exits your chambers.

Sighing to yourself and feeling terribly bad about upsetting him, you finish up your nightly chores before heading to bed yourself.

~~~

The last class of the day, double potions with the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, Snape’s least favorite brats to teach solely because their rivalries tend to transcend classroom borders and there are often petty fights and arguments between students that occur.

Mid-class there is a loud knock on his classroom door. Rolling his eyes he yells for them to come in, he is surprised to see professor (Y/L/N) strut in, their hands behind their back.

“Do tell me, why are you interrupting my class, Professor (Y/L/N)?” Snape sneers causing his students to go dead silent.

“Well, Professor Snape,” you say slowly, emphasizing his proper title and name, “I have something for you.” You remove your hands from behind your back to reveal a small birthday cake and a balloon with ‘Happy Birthday!’ written on it. “Happy Birthday, Severus!” you cheerfully shout.

Snape’s students stare in awe at what is unfolding before their eyes and several have their mouths open in a silent gasp of confusion.

“Y- you remembered? You actually remembered my birthday?” Snape stutters, his eyes brimming with tears which he quickly wipes away.

“Of course, I remembered, Sev! How could I forget my wonderful partner’s birthday? I love you!” You say placing the cake on his desk and tying the balloon to his chair before placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

Snape’s hand rests on his face and lingers for a moment where you kissed him before dropping back down to his side. “You love me? Are you sure?” he asks in a concerned whisper, his eyebrows furred together in thought, his eyes darting back and forth across the classroom skimming over the heads of his students in a panic. He is sure they will spread rumors about this encounter as soon as their class is over and he is worried about what they might say.

Placing your hands on Snape’s elbows to gather his attention you nod. Snape’s eyes widen and he takes a deep breath.

“I love you too, (Y/N). Thank you for my birthday gift and surprise.” Snape says quietly to you before looking back up at his class to see their dumbfounded expressions at what they have just witnessed. “Class is dismissed, tell anyone what you saw here today and I will have you scrubbing my cauldrons clean by hand for the rest of the year. Understood?” he snarls.

The students glance around at each other before nodding and gathering their things, practically fighting each other to get out of the door.

“That was a little harsh don’t you think?” you tease as the last students exit the classroom.

Snape takes one look at you before he entangles his hands in your hair, hovering his lips inches from yours. “I think it's better they leave now so they don’t see what I’m about to do to you,” he growls before kissing you roughly.

#thanks for sending!#I hope you like it!#requests are still open btw!#I really enjoy writing requests :)#severus snape #snape x reader #snape x professor reader #snapedom #pro snape #ensnapemysenses #ensnapemysenses writes

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all-the-things-2020 · 5 months

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No Better Place - Chapter 22

Summary: Javi gets a sweet surprise.

Word count: 1100

Javi tossed his briefcase into the backseat and loosened his tie. He waved goodbye to one of the receptionists who was also getting in her car, and slid behind the wheel. He was getting used to the forty-five minute commute to and from work, but some days were better than others. The traffic had been a mess that morning due to some road construction on several streets downtown, and he hoped the workers had already knocked off for the day.

As he drove, he switched idly between radio stations. On the way to work, he often listened to NPR to catch up on the news, but going home he preferred music. He’d found three stations that played stuff he liked, which was way better than his choices in Laredo.

When he saw the sign for Blue Ridge Ranch, he clicked off the radio and slowed the car. The transition from the road to the drive needed some work and if he wasn’t careful, the car would bottom out in the big pothole that had started to form. He made a mental note to ask the landlord to have it repaired. He also had to slow down because there had been several times one of the kids or Coco (who Chucho had claimed was “sad” that Javi had moved away, even though apparently she hadn’t cared when he lived in the apartment) had darted across in front of him; once he’d even come bumper to nose with a loose horse, a huge part draft named Emerson with a penchant for unlocking stalls and gates.

He parked under the carport and took his briefcase inside. Linus stretched and meowed once, then plopped back down on the back of the couch. Javi gave the cat a quick scratch on the head on his way to the bathroom. As he stepped out the back door, Coco flew across the side yard and slobbered all over him.

“Where’s Cassidy?,” he asked her as he bent down to ruffle her fur and rub her ears. It was a rhetorical question, not just because the dog couldn’t talk, but because there was only one place Cassidy would be at this time of the day: the barn.

He found her leaning against the fence that stretched across the back of the turnouts, watching Cricket roll in the dirt. He stood next to her and rested his arms on the top rail. “She does like to roll, doesn’t she?”

Cassidy laughed. “There’s an old saying, a horse is worth a hundred dollars for every time it can roll completely over. She did it five times one day, and accounting for inflation, that means she’s worth at least five grand.”

“Not bad,” Javi said. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She always put it into a neat ponytail or braid in the morning, but by the end of the day, it was starting to fall out.

“How was your day?,” she asked.

He sighed. “Same old, same old,” he said. “Two meetings that should have been memos, and a stack of paperwork an inch thick. How about you?”

She turned around so her back was to the fence. “Pretty good, actually,” she said. “The vet came out. You’ll be happy to know that the mare we picked up at the auction last week isn’t pregnant.” She paused and looked shyly at him. “But I am.”

Javi just stared at her for a moment, wondering if he’d actually heard what he thought he’d heard. As a huge, goofy grin spread across Cassidy’s face, he realized that he had. “Are you serious?,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah, I kind of suspected it but I went to the drugstore today and picked up a test.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a test stick with a bright pink + mark on it. “I have an appointment with the doctor on Friday to confirm and find out how far along I am, but yeah, we’re having a baby.”

Javi wrapped his arms around her, speechless.

“Hey, Mr. P,” called a voice. He looked over Cassidy’s shoulder to see Alex, a fifteen year old who’d gone from missing school half the time and getting D’s and F’s to a solid B average and almost perfect attendance. He was thriving in the new program and Javi couldn’t have been prouder. Alex came out to the ranch two days a week after school and almost every Saturday.

“Hey, Alex, what’s up?” Javi called back.

“Not much,” Alex said. “I finished doing up the stalls, Miss Yates. Anything else you need?”

“No, you can just hang out till your ride comes,” Cassidy said. “There’s carrots in the feed room if you want to hand out treats.”

“Cool,” he said. He stole a glance at Javi’s hands around Cassidy’s waist and smirked. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” Javi said. When Alex had disappeared around the corner, he leaned down and kissed Cassidy’s forehead. “So, should we move the wedding up?”

Cassidy made a face. “And deprive my momma of the indignity of watching her daughter walk down the aisle in a maternity wedding dress?” she laughed. “Oh, no, baby, I am going to waddle up to the altar even if I need a wheelbarrow to carry my big old belly.”

Javi chuckled. “Well, you can do a combination wedding/baby shower, I guess,” he said. “Make things easier on everyone.”

“No way,” Cassidy retorted. “I’m getting two gifts out of everyone. Mom can host the baby shower, and Monica can host the bridal shower. I’m milking this for all it’s worth.”

Cricket ambled over to them and shoved her head in between them, her warm, sweet breath washing over them. “Are you jealous?” Javi asked. “You’re going to be a big sister, what do you think of that?” The mare snorted, blowing bits of half-chewed hay all over them.

“You had to ask,” Cassidy said, laughing as Javi wiped at the blobs of green that covered his nice white dress shirt.

He didn’t care, though. No shirt was worth more than the feeling he got, standing here with the woman he loved, the woman who’d just told him he was going to be a father. The sun was shining and they were surrounded by happy horses and happy kids. It was a long way from the streets of Colombia, but there was nowhere he’d rather be than right here. It had taken him a while, but Javier Pena finally felt like he was making a difference in the world.

#javier peña x ofc #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña #horses #pedro pascal character fanfiction #happy ending

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reborrowing · 9 months

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Unwarranted Chapter One

alex, can't you write a nice whimsical gt story? no

also its chapter one, but there is a prologue linked as prev!

Unwarranted Masterpost First | Previous | Next Onto Coop's pov, her first trip out of the woods! Maybe feeling some regret about jumping on the opportunity to play lawman? Word count: ~2400 Content Warnings this chapter: animal suffering with implied animal death (witnessed but not caused by POV characters) No taglist atm but can start one if anyone's interested - comment or DM!

Now that she was out of the woods, Coop understood why the giants were always putting up big, ugly shelters for themselves—their own territory was an open void. It was dominated by half-dead grasslands. And if these rivers of blackrock ran through the woods, she’d want to ride around in a tank too. The aluminum she was wearing was nice in a fight, but it wasn’t going to stop if an owl or hawk or whatever happened to notice her running across the motor trail.

They had spent all last night trekking underneath the open sky and even after a full day’s rest, she felt like a thoroughly afraid nerve. And she liked adventure. She felt bad for Cricket. The poor wilder looked at the human settlement on the horizon the way anyone else looked at a wildfire.

Keep reading

Ben should’ve warned them how bad it was out here. But then, Coop thought, maybe Ben didn’t even realize how bad it was anymore. People could joke that Coop was too dumb to be afraid of the things that wanted to kill her, but Ben was a Ranger. They’d carved their fear away through experience. Ben had been all over the woods, all over Town, and probably even highway.

The branch Coop was sitting on barely swayed as Ben landed beside her. The leaves that they’d woven through started to rustle, as if on a delay, as Rei picked her way down behind them. Her attention was still on a thick scrap of paper full of scrawl that she carried in her offhand.

“There’s a tunnel just down the way, then another hour or so up the gutter will put us on the right corner,” Ben announced.

Cricket groaned and they all slipped out from cover and into the foggy night. They ducked through an old, rotting fence and through a bramble that had yet to recover from winter’s cold. Sure enough, several yards down, there was a cement tunnel that stretched beneath the blackstone trail.

The entry was plenty wide enough for any number of beasts to use it as shelter from the night’s chilly rain. Rei flicked on her lantern and peeked inside with Coop right behind her. The light briefly caught the shine of a round eye and the twins swapped positions so Coop was ready to pounce if needed.

A small snake twitched at the edge of the light, considered its chances with the two of them, and decided to mind its business. It slipped behind a crack in the tunnel wall as Ben and Cricket followed the twins into the concrete cavern. The only other critters lurking here were a couple of overhead spiders annoyed by the sudden light. Coop sighed and stepped back behind Rei.

The trip wasn’t a competition of course, it was a mission, but she still felt like she was losing. Or at least disappointing people. Rei had her fancy tools and proper experience as a capital-b Borrower. Coming into town was different from raiding tents and RVs, but she seemed confident that she understood what they were looking at. Cricket was such a good hunter he seemed psychic, which kept her from showing off at that. And of course, Ben was the only one who really knew what was going on. They were the one leading the whole trip, it was their contract to hunt down Dart. Coop didn’t know what she was doing here, except feeling uneasy.

She trailed behind as the four slogged through the rainwater current to the other side of the road, then back up towards the sidewalk. Rei stopped, crouched, at the edge of the grass and wrung fistfuls of mud out of her cloak. She huffed as she looked at the oily brook trickling through the gutterway.

“This is really the best way there?” she asked.

“It’s the most direct. We’ll be out here all night if we pick through the gardens,” Ben said with a shrug.

Ahead, Cricket had already jumped down and pasted himself to the wall as he edged forward. Rei looked up at the dark, distant clouds as if she needed to remind herself what an infinite place this was. She took a shaky breath. Coop came up behind her with an encouraging pat on the back to nudge her onward.

“You’ll be fine. We’re almost there, then you’ll get us inside somewhere cozy.”

Coop vaulted down onto the tilted, concrete path but lingered until she heard Rei splash down behind her. Rei scurried to join Cricket by the curb wall. They inched forward, fighting against the water that ran against their shins as they inched forward. Ben and Coop strayed closer to the motor trail, out of the water. All of them were acutely aware that they had nowhere to run if something came for them.

And Ben wanted them to march through it for a full hour.

Luckily, it was a quiet night. There was nothing happening except for the slow, tired rainfall around them and the rippling creek it created.

“If we’re just an hour from this place now, doesn’t that mean we’re in Town already? Isn’t there supposed to be giants everywhere?” Coop asked.

“Don’t jinx us,” Cricket hissed.

“Psh, if I could make stuff happen just by saying it out loud, do you think we’d come out all this way to kill this guy? Couldn’t we just be like, ‘I think Dart should live forever!’ and wait for him to drop dead?”

“Stop.”

Coop angled herself so she could watch Cricket, head tilted in curiosity. He scowled and refused to look at her. The stub of his tail anxiously flicked from side to side.

“You’re not that superstitious, are you?” she asked.

“What’s that matter? Why would you risk it being real if you can just be quiet?”

Coop snorted. They had a thousand other dangerous things to worry about before even thinking about jinxes. Even at home, even in good weather, the world was full of things that would kill littlefolk without any kind of provocation. Life was dangerous no matter what anyone talked about. Imagining bad outcomes and calling them fate was just an excuse to give up.

Before she had a chance to say as much, Ben warned her to be quiet and she hunched sheepishly into her cloak. She fell back into step behind them and brought her focus back to the edges of her perception for anything lurking nearby. Insects clicked and a frog sang back but she couldn’t hear anything that might care about her. She peeked up at the cloudy void overhead and watched a couple of bats swoop around a pole-light.

After they marched for a while, Ben pointed to a tower with a glowing summit as the marker for their destination. Coop squinted up at it. The light seemed too high on the horizon, even for the giants to reach. It wasn’t until Rei made words out of the patterned design that she realized it was supposed to be a beacon, not the building itself. Coop had never seen the point to reading and hadn’t even recognized half the letters.

“What’s that mean?” Rei asked, “mini mart, um, dealy?”

“It’s a name, presumably. I don’t care, it’s where Dart was last seen,” Ben said.

Ben waved them onto the sidewalk once the sign was almost directly overhead. Coop paused a second as she looked at their destination. It didn’t look much different than any of the human houses they’d seen so far: big and squarish, although the land around it seemed worse.

It had a big stretch of blackrock instead of a grass field between it and the trail, like the entryway to the campgrounds. There were three motors parked at random and they’d been there long enough that the metal had stopped settling. The only greenery around the building were sparse bushes in patches just around the perimeter of the building.

The four borrowers slipped underneath the nearest car to scope out the new wasteland they needed to cross. Coop took a second to herself to shake out her cloak and enjoy the artificial break from the rainstorm. Rei came up behind her and sighed.

“I think I didn’t think about how far this really was,” she said. “I just wanted to see how the insiders live, you know? That’s what Ben said I’d be doing this trip, and it’s …the same danger as always, except eerie and quiet.”

“We made it though. Basically, I mean, the place is right there. And then you’ll see, right?”

“I’m just tired, I guess,” Rei said with a half-hearted nod.

Coop was too, and maybe a little guilty. This whole thing seemed more and more like the sort of dumb idea that Rei was supposed to talk her down from. Better in her head than outside it.

They walked by the back tire, trailing behind the two men, when they heard something shift in the wheel well. Clawed feet scrambled for purchase and failed. Both twins backed up instinctively as a heavy shadow squealed and crashed in right front of them.

Coop’s breath quickened as she stared up at a big, greasy rat. Rei chittered in alarm—a noise that was both simpler and more urgent than words without being so loud as a scream. It was still enough to catch Ben and Cricket’s attention. Coop drew her needle and pulled her shield forward. The rat’s black eyes narrowed at her.

The shadow was several times larger than she was and took its time to recover from its fall, longer than she would have expected. Rats weren’t that slow.

It squeaked again, uncertainly, and writhed as it tried to find its way back to its feet. Coop drew herself into a defensive stance and was quickly joined by Cricket. She heard Ben on the other side. The rat flinched as it recognized that they were no free meal. It might get one of them, but not effortlessly, and rats were picky about their fights. Coop relaxed in response, to let it know she agreed they could go their separate ways in peace.

The rat nodded, which was strange. It kept nodding as it pulled itself to its feet and kept nodding as it cried out and stumbled back to the ground. It was still nodding as it lay there, twitching.

“You don’t need to—it’s already dying. It’s poisoned,” Rei said softly.

Coop held the creature’s gaze as it struggled to keep its head upright through its convulsions. It squealed in distress, a cry for its imminent death but then it just…kept going. She tightened her grip on her weapon uneasily.

“That’s…creepy,” Cricket said.

“How long is it gonna be like that?” Coop said.

“Until it dies, I guess? It means there’s definitely traps around, though,” Rei said.

She shrugged, swallowing her own discomfort as she spoke. Her ears flicked and she turned to see Ben had come to the same conclusion and already lost interest in the rat. They signaled the rest to follow them to the building.

“They put out traps that can do this?” Cricket asked, wide-eyed.

“Sort of. It hardly matters, they'll all kill you,” Rei said.

“But doesn’t it hurt? He looks scared."

“I’d rather have my spine snapped than that," Cricket agreed. They turned back towards Ben. "We should get out of here. I can’t watch this anymore."

“We could kill it now. Put him out of his misery, you know?” Coop suggested.

She watched the rat as it jerked and shoved itself into an awkward sideways leap away from her. It managed a few steps in no particular direction before its legs locked back up and it froze. Rei

“Just leave it, weasel. It’ll be dead soon enough without you picking another fight,” she said.

Coop hesitated. She didn’t mind death so much—everyone had to eat, nothing wanted to be dinner, and someone had to lose that fight. But this, the unnatural movements, the frantic squeaking, it set her fur all on end. This was the kind of thing she’d expect from something that couldn’t directly fight back, or someone determined to die with spite. It was dirty, underhanded, and giants had plenty of overhand to use. They could just crush rats they wanted dead, couldn’t they? She didn’t understand why they’d send something off like this.

“Coop, come on. Ben’s not going to wait for us, look. We don’t want to get separated and lost out here,” Rei said, tugging on her arm.

If this was what was out here, she really didn’t want to get lost in giant territory. Coop swallowed and gave the rat a final look as a reminder before taking off after the boys. After a nerve-wracking dash across the blackrock, they settled in a small bush surrounded by a patch of bark.

“Why would Dart even come here? It’s not hard to disappear in the wild, and you don’t deal with shit like that,” Cricket asked, once the twins caught up.

He stared through the branches of a twiggy bush at the building that now engulfed the entirety of the horizon and most of the sky. It was a wooden cube, several times wider than any tree could ever dream of reaching. On the far end, long panes of glass glowed as bright as the moon the building hid.

“Traps pretty much always look the same, they’re not for us,” Rei whispered. “And it’s nice inside. It’s warm and dry, with only the one predator to worry about.”

“They’re more trouble than a normal predator, don’t you think?” Ben snorted.

“They’re half-blind and deafer than me, who cares if they’re smart? It’s the same rule anywhere—don’t get caught.” she said, shrugging.

Coop frowned. She’d never really been afraid of giants either, not the way she was supposed to be, anyways. She kept their distance, because they were deadly, but Coop had always liked watching them when they came to camp. She liked the nonsense they talked around their fires and the games they made up and the awkward way they flailed around the lake. For all their noise and destruction, they were just weird and peopley.

But maybe it was different out here, when they were home. She and Rei ran across the open parking lot at full tilt for the distant garden patch. There was no cover and the whole time, nothing swooped at them, nothing followed them. Coop didn’t even get the sense that anything was watching them. The stories about this place being a wasteland were truer than she’d expected, maybe the stories about the giants being monsters were too.

#gt #g/t #giant tiny #gianttiny #gt writing #g/t writing #gt stories #borrowers #my writing #unwarranted #oc: coop #oc: rei #oc: ben #oc: cricket #idk when is a good time to post fuck it hi

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