#jeep 4 life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

devilmademewriteit · 11 months

Text

Dark Paradise

part 3 of Salvatore

read part 1, Salvatore, here

read part 2, Playing Dangerous, here

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: left alone in javi’s bed, you go looking for distractions. finding them only leads you further into his world: a world of danger and violence, where no one can protect anyone.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, super SUPER light choking) so 18+ only content; pet names (cariño, hermosa, querida, sweetheart, baby) afab fem reader; reader is American; mentions of hair pulling; allusions to SA; attempted SA against reader (not by javi); violence against reader (hitting, slapping, manhandling); smoking; dubcon (power imbalance, trauma sex??).

word count: 7k+

no use of y/n in this fic

u guys. it is here. and the most exciting part is I can already promise u a part 4!! pls be mindful that this part is darker than the rest. it has many triggering themes, so many sure u read the warnings & stay on the safe side of things.

as always, love u all so effing much. feedback, reblogs, comments & asks are always appreciated, & don’t forget to join the taglist in my pinned post !

-em<3

—

No one compares to you. I’m scared that you won’t be waiting on the other side.

- Dark Paradise

“Girl, where did you go?”

You’re on the landline with Carrie, one of the few half-friends you'd made living in Medellín, thighs sore and bruised from the backseat-loving you’d received the night before. While Javi’s at work, you’re on (his words) 'house arrest,' and lounging alone in his apartment feels eerily quiet. The occasional car drives by—you try not to listen for the sound of scraping tires.

So, around 9:30, you’d decided to fill the silent space with a bit of vapid conversation, realizing that last night's antics (and your unexplained disappearance) may have caused a bit of confusion.

You start by filling Carrie in on the generalities: the guns, the car, and the rescue, at first planning to leave out the more… personal details.

Like the one you'd filed away under 'Riding a Cop to High Heaven in the Backseat of his Jeep.'

You also leave out the part where, afterwards, you’d kicked off your heels by his front door, let down your hair in a sloppy, half-drunk movement, made a beeline to the familiar crinkles and folds of his unmade bed, and swiftly passed out in his embrace.

Oh, to fall asleep between those arms for the rest of eternity.

Given your more cynical—okay, borderline self-denying—approach to life, you felt downright ashamed of how much you’d enjoyed it. How much you’d enjoyed him and all of his lasting touches.

And in the morning… Javi’s hardness biting into your hip was a more efficient wake-up-call than the trial nuke sirens back home; the soft kisses laid down the length of your neck and the long, lazy fingers creeping down your abdomen had you surging to consciousness with embarrassing speed. You’d shivered into wakefulness, flattened against his chest.

“Good morning, cariño.” His words were molasses, melted caramel, thick and damp with sleep.

“Hmmmh,” was your only reply, sloping into your highest octaves as his hand sank to push aside your already-ruined underwear, dipping lower to toy with the switch only he knew how to turn on best. Arching into his spine, last night’s dress crumpled up above your waist, leaving him to feel more, more, more of you.

“Thought it would take more convincing,” he breathed against your shoulder, a breeze of late august air.

“Wh’time z’it?”

“We have time, cariño, we have time.”

When his digits pulled a moan from your lips, no other answers really mattered. He’d loosed that deep, guttural rumble of approval that made your chest swell with pride, your legs part in service and need.

“Can you hold this leg up for me, baby? S’all you need to do.” He’d helped fold up your knee, and you’d turned to meet him with pleading, drooping eyes, dutifully contorting to mold into the shape of his body. “Perfect, baby, good job,” a rough kiss to your temple, “n’I can do the rest, hermosa—I’ll do the rest.”

He slid in effortlessly, harmonizing to your sigh of relief with a “shit, s’wet,” and sheathing his cock between the folds of your morning slick. Brows furrowing, mouth falling open, you had every detail of your bliss etched on your expression, all for the beautiful man looming over you. “Always fuckin’ askin’ for it, huh, sweetheart?” He'd mused. “Woke me up moanin’ in your sleep, cariño—dreamin’ about last night?”

An “mhmm,” was all you could muster. Javi’s hips rolled against your ass, and the resulting feeling of overwhelming fullness had you swearing you were still in reverie. When he paused, snaked his arms under your neck and around your waist, and pulled you flush against his chest, you remember it feeling like a dirty, desperate hug.

“M’sore, Javi,” you’d whined at the stretch of your opening, the continued drag of Javi’s fingers against your aching, weary clit.

“S’no excuse, baby,” he’d grumbled into the shell of your ear, pressing hard into that tender bundle of nerves. “Gotta get you used to it.”

A harrumph as he’d turned up the intensity, punishing you for your protests. “Y-you’re a mean-mean man, Javier Peña.”

Soft, gravelly laughter danced, twirled, traveled along the dip of your neck. “‘N you’re gonna come so hard for this mean, mean man.”

He was right, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with the thick, rough pads of his fingertips, the tip of his cock sliding up and down, over and over, in and out of your guts.

“Yeah—yes—m’gonna come for you, Javi,” you’d admitted.

But he’d stolen his magical digits away, used them to turn your jaw, to square your face off with his own concentrated, lust-filled expression. “Show me cariño, yes—gonna be picturin’ that pretty lil’ face aaaaall fuckin’ day,” and you’d tumbled over the edge the moment he’d slid back down to the apex of your thighs, drowning in the darkness of his cinnamon-brown irises and the tantalizing circles—drawn from memory—against your clit.

“J-javi—it feels—feels s-so good—”

“I know, hermosa, s’just what you needed, fuck—”

He was already close enough, but your climaxing trembles and your whining, choked gasps had him wrapping his hand around your throat, pushing you further and further down the length of his tensing shaft.

“Shit—you feel like heaven, baby, so good for me—”

His release came fast and hard, leaking his hot spend into you, painting your insides like brushstrokes on canvas with his final thrust.

He seemed to lay there for forever, softening between your walls as sweet slumber carried you off once more. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he’d advised against your shoulder (as if you’d needed any kind of encouragement), “Did such a good job; go back to sleep.”

It was easy to accede to his command.

You’d come to for a half-second as he’d placed, fully dressed, the clink of his belt and the crisp waft of his cologne rousing you to near-consciousness, a deliberate, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Don’t answer the door for anyone else, okay, hermosa?”

“Huh? Oh—mhm.”

And you’d vaguely registered a low laugh. “Good to know you’re so well behaved when you’re half-asleep.” His finger traced your cheekbone, dragged down to pull teasingly at your bottom lip. “Means I’ll have to keep fuckin’ you to the point of exhaustion.”

“Mhm—please." Squished and mumbled, guttural and breathless.

Another soft laugh, and then echoes of receding footsteps.

Waking up a few hours later, you’d peeled your sticky thighs apart, confused at first by the mysterious pool of wetness between your legs.

You didn’t bother cleaning it up, already feeling the loss of your DEA officer. You somehow chose to dial Carrie's number to kill some time on your day off (or else, you feared, you’d have quickly found another use for your bored fingers).

Being alone in his room leaves you feeling very young. Lying in his bed, thinking about the past night’s events… you feel giddy, like a highschool girl after her first time, and anxious, on edge without Javier’s protection.

You just want to gush about it.

“Do you remember that DEA agent? The Texan?”

You barely have time to finish your thought before Carrie’s cutting your question short.

“Sexy Javi?”

She giggles. You snort indelicately into the receiver.

“I never called him that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she returns. “I deduced it from the amount of times you ranted to me about his… callers.”

You fiddle with the telephone chord, smiling artfully to yourself. “I’m in his bed right now.”

There’s a slap. No doubt the sound of a hand clapping over a set of slack lips. And then—

“I thought he lived outside the city?!”

It’s a strange reaction. You’d expected something a bit more on-topic, confused at your friend’s preoccupation with Peña’s living quarters when you’d just divulged such an out-of-character, personal detail.

Well, at least the enthusiasm is there.

“No, he lives right by the embassy.” You respond, rolling lazily onto your side. Opening the top drawer of his bedside table, you grimace to yourself, taking in (on top of the empty bottle of men’s cologne and an old, broken watch) a box of tissue paper, a pair of handcuffs (not regulation), a smatter of sex toys, and a few scattered, unopened condoms. “That new… fancy building on the corner,” you continue, swiping a few tissues between your legs, trying not to giggle at the teasing Javi was in for tonight, “Carrie—are you seriously not gonna ask how it was?”

There’s a pause. You hear a rustle in the background; the sound reminds you of students in class, whipping out pens and notebooks.

Is she taking notes?

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

That reaction felt more appropriate.

It all comes bursting out of you—the night out, Javi’s rescue, your backseat escapade. Carrie’s an ideal audience, gasping and ‘oooh’-ing and ‘girl!’-ing at all the right moments.

When you get to the end of your tale, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Carrie pries for more and more specifics, keeping you on the phone for close to an hour. You don't give her everything (did she really need an approximation of his size?) but you do make sure to remind her, often, that Javier Peña was an excellent fuck.

Finally, the conversation dies down. Sitting up, you realize just how desperately you’re in need of a shower. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, the smell of sex, tequila, and Javi’s day-old cologne clinging to your skin, but his place gets hot, and you hadn't anticipated the need to pack deodorant in your purse during last night's going-out prep.

Either way, Carrie's become distracted, the length between your words and her responses growing with every passing minute. You notice a Spanish conversation taking place in the background, no doubt the reason for her decreasing attentiveness.

You’re about to hang up, launching into a polite, “alright girl, I’ll let you go” when she goes back in for more.

“Is he home now?”

She blurts it out, and you're a bit taken aback. Frankly, the urgency of her tone feels a little jarring.

“Um, no,” you answer, uncertain, stretching out your vowels, “I think he went in early today.”

“Good.”

Her clipped tone continues to confuse you. It’s… not playful anymore. It’s administrative.

Commercial.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” a flutter of shrill laughter, “Just wanted to make sure he’s not listening in on our—”

There’s a knock at the door before she can finish. You call out just a sec! automatically, pulling on your rumpled clothes from the night before as the receiver tumbles onto the unmade bed.

It’s only once you’ve lumbered over, wiped the grogginess from your eyes, once you’ve unlocked the door and twisted the handle—it’s only once your head is covered with a thick, scratchy fabric, once the world’s gone dark and a cry of surprise is wrenched from your throat—that you recall Javi’s warning:

Don’t open the door for anyone else.

Something else takes over. Something primal. Fight, fight, fight. Find the flesh and punish it, scramble for purchase into any detectable, softer areas. Squirm until your legs give out, 'till your knees hit the floor and the beginnings of bruises scatter across your burning skin in a plethora of vulnerable places.

But when you thrash around like that, make sure your head doesn’t hit the doorframe.

Because then? It’s lights out.

—

The first thing you notice is the smell.

Weed and tobacco. Wet weed and tobacco. It’s not a smell you’re accustomed to (you worked for the DEA, for crying out loud). It makes your already-pounding head spin, so it takes a second before you remember that you’re not safe—you’re not at home, you’re not at Javi’s, and you’re not with Javi.

Instincts kick in. Your stomach aches with fear, lighting you up from the inside, energizing every inch of your body. You wrench, pull, struggle against the restraints suffocating your wrists, binding your hands around the back of a rickety, wooden chair. You can’t kick at anything, either. Your ankles are crossed, squished on top of each other and secured by a firm length of (what you assume to be) rope.

And then the canvas is unceremoniously yanked off of your head, taking a few hairs from your scalp along with it.

You squint, blinking into the dim light, slowly adjusting to your surroundings: some sort of musty basement with concrete walls and floors, decorated by nothing except a couple of small, rectangular windows near the too-high ceilings. It’s completely empty—save for your company.

One, two, three strangers. All men. All Cartel, by the looks of them.

And all positively leering.

The one nearest you, holding the bag in his hands, speaks down to you. It’s quick and harsh, mocking and cruel. Spanish and unintelligible.

Your hatred towards the captor blinds you; it coaxes the animal out of its cage. You spit: “I don’t speak Spanish, motherfucker.”

(Even if you did, the adrenaline coursing through your veins wouldn’t allow you much room for comprehension).

From the shadows, another man appears. He lumbers over to you, and you notice the peculiarity of his European-looking hat as he squats down to level with you.

He clicks his tongue, dousing you with a look of disapproval. “That’s not very nice, hermosa.”

You shiver. Javi had called you that before, many times. And even though it sounded totally different coming from this foul man’s mouth, shrouded under the veil of a thick, Spanish accent, it sticks.

You hold your tongue, biting it to keep from sobbing. The glint in his eye, visible behind his glasses, moves from playfulness to exasperated ire.

He sighs, stands, and grabs your hair, tilting your head back harshly to look down at you. “You’re very hard to catch, you know that?” He muses, darkness trickling across his features. “But you’re alone now, Americana. No DEA—no Javier Peña to protect you.”

He makes a mockery of his name, oozing cockiness as it comes spitting out of his smirk. You glare up at him, simmering anger and bubbling fear claiming you. Would they go after Javi?

No. They wouldn’t dare.

Only an American like yourself—low-value, replaceable, unnoticeable—was expendable.

“What do you want from me?”

He smiles, releasing your head and taking a step back.

“You’re the assistant, aren’t you?” And that deceptively sweet tone is back, frightening you more than his rage. “We need directions, hermosa. You’ve been in all the government buildings—we know, we watched you. Why don’t you give us some assistance,” he pauses, leaning down towards you, “And tell us where your evidence against Pablo Escobar is filed.”

You snort, unimpressed, shocked, and a little humoured by his little monologue. This was what they were after?

This was why you'd been fearing for your life?

A fucking… map?

“Find someone else. I don’t know shit.”

It’s honestly true. The bastards could not be barking up a more wrong tree. For all their criminal genius, they hadn’t managed to catch the fact that you really, truly didn’t give a flying fuck about the particulars of your job.

But if this was about Escobar—the Pablo Escobar—then these were men from the Medellín cartel. The same Medellín cartel that left scores of expendable bodies in its wake, that bombed, assassinated, and tortured government workers like they were no more than rats in a science lab.

You weren’t the end-all, be-all of this operation.

No, you were just another lead.

A lead that (only you knew) led to jack-all. Unless they were scrambling to learn about the best places to go out dancing or the worst brands of moisturizer, you had very little to offer the thugs.

The one with the strange hat—the ringleader, you decide—shares a smile with his co-conspirators, and you begin to regret the arrogance of your statement.

“There are many ways we can do this,” he warns, voice sloping down to a dangerous hum. “It can be easy…” and he lowers a hand to his belt buckle, setting every cell in your body on fire, “Or hard.”

It‘s a plea to God more than a question for your captor, your desperate, self-pitying: “Why me?” It can't be above a whisper, but the asshole responds anyway.

“It’s more enjoyable when we get to work with something pretty.” A dark laugh. “Who’s going to come looking for you, hermosa? Your family? Your friends? Your… government?” He clicks his tongue again, looking down at you in mock concern. “Like I said, we’ve been watching. You have a habit of disappearing. Running away.”

Figures.

Figures that the reason you’d wound up with your life on the line, your body in danger, was because of you. Once again, it boiled down to the lack of attachments you’d curated over the years, passing from one thing to another, quick on your feet the second they hit solid ground. For God’s sake, the only reason you’d made it this long in Medellín was because it hadn’t managed to bore you yet.

Figures that the closest thing to stability you’d been able to find was in the crime capital of the world. It was poetically honest, laughably ironic.

Of course, the American government would assume you’d fucked off—just another ditzy contractor swept up in the thrill of a south-American life.

The other part held water, too—no one would come looking for you. Your boss might huff about ‘these flighty secretaries, can’t hold ‘em down for anything,’ but beyond that, your disappearance would cause less than a stir.

Somehow, that thought comforted you. The lack of collateral, the lack of another’s suffering… very little harm would befall the world in the wake of your absence. Peace was beginning to crest upon your settling soul. And, either way, you’d worked in this line of work for long enough to know that your death warrant had been signed the very second they’d seen you as a target.

You give the bastards what they want? You die.

You hold off? You die.

All things considered, you resign yourself, making up your mind.

Still, your defiant voice quivers as you say it.

“Fuck you.”

The ringleader smiles, like a predator cornering its prey, taking that first bite into hard-earned flesh. Your brain responds, screaming warnings in big letters, in flashing red ink. He barks an order to his underlings in Spanish, and the other two men come forward, roughly undoing the holds along your ankles, your wrists.

“Get the fuck off of me!”

But they don’t listen, yanking you upright and shoving you onto the ground. Your vision becomes hazy. Something takes over, a protective instinct, perhaps, barring you from your own body. Distantly, you observe yourself fighting, but really all you feel is beyond. The words ‘I am not here, this is not happening’ wash over you over and over again, like a cleansing, salt-water wave.

Hands on cement. Clothes torn, destroyed—the cold barrel of a gun to your head, a man barking orders, hitting, slapping—and right as the worst is about to happen, everything just…

Stops.

It’s like they’re spellbound, bugs frozen in amber.

You hear the cause of it well after your torturers do. Footsteps upstairs, and gunshots, screams followed by the definite sounds of a creeping squadron.

The men get messy. Scrambling around, they gather their options. In your dazed periphery, you watch their eyes latch onto one of those open windows, 8 or 9 feet up from the ground.

A hushed conversation ensues. You're familiar enough with the more violent side of the Spanish vocabulary to string together their meaning.

“Shoot her? — no, the noise, they’ll find us faster — kill her? — too long — take her? — too messy — we have to go, we have to go, we have to go.”

Your ruined shirt is shoved down your throat, and then you’re gagging on it, ankles bound once more, shaking and naked on the freezing concrete. The trio uses the little wooden chair to frantically sneak out of the window.

It would be downright comical if you weren’t so terrified.

Soon, you’re alone, choking on cotton and wriggling to flatten your back against the wall. Centuries pass before the movement upstairs graduates to the basement below.

Relief doesn’t grace you. Any man—DEA, cartel, or Colombian police—would likely perform the same violence as your previous captors had planned to. A naked girl, roughed up and completely unprotected, in a dark, hidden basement, totally at their mercy… Shit. You were basically an invitation. A free meal, offered up to a different, hungry crowd.

You just pray that this one might be gentler.

The stairs creak under the certain weight of bodies in motion.

Tears run down the side of your face, dripping down from your temple onto the ground below. You compress into a ball, making yourself as small as possible.

The echoes grow louder, closer and closer. At this point, you just hope they’ll assume you’re an enemy or get trigger-happy and give you a quick taste of lead. Put you out of your misery.

Giving up was well within your comfort zone.

Someone gasps when they see you, and a single name hurtles through the space.

An out-of-commission part of your mind recognizes it—the name—knows it as a comfort. Still, you only tremble, trying to disconnect yourself from what must be a wishful, crafted, deceitful version of reality.

Then someone else comes forward. Your eyes, weary of keeping you in the dark, fling open just in time to watch a tall, dark-haired man push through the crowd of soldiers. You watch his expression—shock to rage, rage to relief, and then rage all over again.

He rushes you, falling to his knees before your wrecked form.

His first move is to wrench the fabric from your mouth. You croak out the most desperate sob of relief, all those stifled, unvoiced expressions of terror tumbling out in great-big-heaves.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

“No.” You respond.

“Did they…?”

“No.”

Javi tears his big doe-eyes, filled with worry, away from yours, twisting to impatiently address the frozen crowd of four or five behind him. “Can somebody take these fuckin’ ties off?”

Switchblades slice through twine. Someone brings you a blanket, and Javi bundles you up in it, gathering you and lifting you in his arms. You don’t resist, clinging around his neck and hiding in the comfort of his shoulder.

“Hermosa—”

You regret the way you flinch. “Please—please don’t call me that anymore.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t ask questions, sounding a little softer, a little more unsure when he presses on, muffling the desperate edge to his tone. “Did you see where they went?”

“The window. Out the window.”

Most of the rest take to that almost immediately, scattering to start on their chase. Javi delivers a set of orders in his native tongue.

Then, he grows silent, carrying you through the house with two soldiers in the lead. “Close your eyes, okay? You don’t wanna see this.” But now that they’re open, you can’t seem to shut them. You only glimpse flashes of the upstairs area. Tables covered in paper, glass contraptions and coke, so much coke, which is almost more impressive than the quantity of blood splattered against the peeling walls.

And Carrie.

Carrie with half her brains hanging out, long, dark, red-soaked hair fanning around her crown like a rotten halo, lounging on the couch, fingers splayed and palms to the sky as if she were ready to wrap them around a glass of white wine—as if she were ready to catch up on girl-talk.

What’s Carrie doing here?

Should I ask her?

She’s dead.

No, she’s not. She’s right there. She was waiting for me to be done so we could catch up. That’s just how she always sits—it’s just the scoliosis.

That’s why she always showed up so late to the club. She… she couldn’t dance too long because of the scoliosis.

You’re still debating whether or not Carrie would be up for a bit of gossip, another debrief, when big, strong arms lower you into the passenger seat of a Jeep Cherokee.

Javier buckles you in.

“We can’t go to your place—that’s…” and you trail off weakly, throat burning with effort. “That’s where they took me.”

He nods, his face a complete mask of concentration.

But you know him.

He’s holding everything back. You appreciate him for that, never wanting to hear a man shout for the rest of your cursed time on Earth.

“Steve’s, then.”

It’s your turn to nod.

—

Javier drives in complete and total silence, only speaking the occasional clipped sentence into his radio. Despite your vulnerability, despite your overwhelming gratitude, you feel guilty for taking him away from his work, from his team. For forcing him to rescue you once again.

For sure, he’s angry. Would he have to move? Find a new place? Leave all his stuff at the old one? Would a better captive have paid better attention, taken note of the exact direction her kidnappers had taken off in after clearing the window?

Soon, you’re settled against a couch, the light from the opposing window breaking in and dancing across Javi’s face. A blonde woman—fiery, familiar, concerned—hands you a glass of water.

Javi watches you, eyebrows notched together, lips drawn into a thin line as you take a slow sip in silence. The liquid slides down your throat, cooling and soothing the rips and tears there.

And they both won’t stop staring. Truly, their joint study makes you self-conscious, watching on with unapologetic intent as you shiver under the scratchy blanket.

Finally (thankfully), Steve's wife—Connie, you recall—speaks.

“You can go, Javi. I'll take it from here.”

“No.”

She looks borderline offended at his line in the sand.

“I don’t think she’s in any shape to talk, Peña.” It’s authoritative, protective, clearly marked with harboured resentment.

She'd make a good mom.

He scoffs. “I’m not gonna make her talk, Connie. Just don’t wanna leave her like... this.”

Connie looks confused. They share a glance, and an eventual understanding passes over her expression. In fact, even in your distressed state, you’re almost certain you catch a hint of a smile.

“Well if you’re both staying, we’ll need food.”

Javi nods absentmindedly, lighting up a smoke. You look away, still feeling the weight of his eyes boring into your ducked head.

She clears her throat. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Remember to lock the door, Javi.”

Then, swinging her coat on, she traces an awkward line out of the apartment.

Silence flits across the room. The agent continues to study you from his seat at the counter across the room.

“Are you okay?”

You pick at your nails, internally asking yourself the same question.

“I’m just glad you were there,” you muster up, looking up at his softened, warm gaze. Concern etches a couple of fresh lines on his face.

Javi nods, taking a long drag. “Always, sweetheart. I’m glad I was there, too.”

You shiver at the thought of what could have happened if he and his team had showed up just a few minutes later. What shape he would have found you in, or if you’d ever permit yourself to feel the touch of a man again. Of anyone again.

“Why were you there?”

The question comes out of nowhere, bursting out the moment you realize that you hadn’t yet bothered to ask him how he’d pulled off yet another well-timed rescue.

It couldn’t have been in answer to your prayers—those had never worked for you before.

“Carillo’s been following Escobar’s cousin for a while. Zeroed in on the neighbourhood, but we spent all morning doing searches. Honestly,” he breaks off for a moment, rubbing at his temples, “It was just damn luck that we found you when we did. Wish I could say it wasn't, but it was. We were gettin’ ready to call it off. I had… no idea you weren’t at home.”

He blames himself for it. You can tell. In turn, you blame yourself for that—for his misguided, self-inflicted anger.

There’s more left unsaid.

“My friend—I called her this morning. From your place. She was there. She was… dead. I think.”

Javi doesn’t react, evidence of the years of gore, wreckage, and betrayal he'd witnessed.

You swallow, soldiering on.

“I told her. I told her where I was. Could she… could she have told them?”

Is she the reason this happened to me?

Slowly, lips pressed around his cigarette, Javi nods. “I’m sorry,” he barely mumbles.

Strangely enough, you’re not. That’s what you say: “I’m not.” And it’s true. “She was upstairs when it was all happening. I’m glad she’s dead.”

Now, he looks at you with a consideration that swells into a kind of respect. Not a respect, no not respect. A knowing. A new kind of understanding, of equal footing.

You meet him head-on with it, basking in your retribution, revelling in the immediate justice she'd been served. You’d mourn the person you thought she was when your wounds weren’t so open, so fresh.

"They wanted directions, Javi," you suddenly blurt out, voice hoarse, "Isn't that insane? They were gonna... they were gonna do that for directions. Not even the evidence, just fucking directions-"

Javi lifts his hands in the air, signalling for you to slow down. Normally, it would make you want to tear his arrogant head off. Now, however, you just do, although the silence isn't very comforting. After a moment, you can tell there's something Javi’s been avoiding, something he’s holding in. The agent clears his throat, finally calling it quits on his tiptoe-ing around the subject.

“Cariño," he begins, "I know you told me earlier, but I... I gotta be sure. Did they hurt you in… any way?”

God, he sounds so deeply wary, unable even to speak his fear into existence. You shake your head no, prompting his shoulders to relax.

“Okay. Good,” he breathes, crossing his arms and looking down at the rug. “Don’t think I could…”

Panic ripples through your frame.

'Doesn’t think he could' what? Bear to look at me, knowing the enemy had been where he’d been, done what he’d done? Touch me in the same grooves they'd left on my skin? Javi’s not that kind of man—is he?

“Don’t think I could forgive myself if anything were to happen to you under my watch.”

The rush of anxiety quickly dissipates, replaced by a stifling bloom of admiration and adoration across your chest. Like soft tendrils, warming your shivering body from within.

You smile self-consciously, scoff, and meet his eyes. “I wasn’t ‘under your watch,’ Javi. I opened the door. It was my fault.”

He raises his eyebrows, huffing a breath before ashing his dart, rising, carving a path towards the couch-cushion next to you and taking your glass of water from between your hands. It clinks as he sets it on the table. Taking your unsteady hands between his hardened palms, he coaxes you into meeting his golden eyes.

“It’s not your fault, herm—” a pause as he corrects himself, noticing your flinch, “—cariño. It’s not your fault.”

He waits for your nod of acknowledgement before pulling you into his arms. You let yourself go limp, dragged into the plushness of the couch and the firmness of his chest.

He lays a kiss to your forehead. He fidgets with your hair. He traces long, lazy lines up and down your spine.

How had you gone from that youthful giddiness this morning to this dark, anxious wreck in a matter of hours? It wasn’t even two o’clock yet.

The comfort your agent provides is good—will always be good—but you want more. Every inch of attention he gives you is just another step away from that cold basement, a foot towards freedom.

Time heals all wounds, and you want a distraction while you face those excruciating seconds. Something to move it along. Something to keep you busy, to keep the harrowing images at bay.

So you tilt your head up. Finding his lips, you press into him, shuddering when the rough hairs of his mustache tickle your top lip. When your body asks for more, when your tongue meets his and your hand drops to his thigh, Javi tenses, pulling back and breaking off the kiss.

“Sweetheart—you’re not in a good place,” he whispers, lovingly running his fingers through your hair.

You look up at him with eyes full of need, wordlessly begging him to give in. “I am now,” you assure him, tossing a leg over his hips and straddling his body. His expression darkens as you slowly chip away at his resolve, one touch at a time. “I’m with you.”

He smiles, plucking your hands from his chest. Every kiss he lays to your knuckles sends a ripple of electricity up and down your spine. “That right?” He muses between embraces. “That all you need?”

You nod, the pace of your shallow breaths picking up in anticipation. “When you touch me, Javi, it’s like you’re cleaning them off me,” you croon, leaning forward to brush your lips against his jaw.

“You’re in shock, baby,” but his hands defy his words, slipping down to circle your waist, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Slowly, deliberately, you lean back to stare directly into his heavy-lidded eyes. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You feel him tense at that, his body hardening alongside the weight building underneath your thigh. He lets you go on, deft hands pooling onto your hips.

“Get rid of them for me,” you plead, grinding down onto his bulge.

“Make me all yours again.”

That does it.

His hands shoot up to your face, firmly cupping your cheeks between their heat. Then, Javi’s kissing you harder than before, warming your desire up to a feverish level. You moan into him, turning to putty in his grasp.

He peppers kisses down your jaw and up your neck, allowing you to clumsily untuck his shirt and undo his belt. It’s frantic and needy—it’s pure business. You free his length from the confines of his clothes, heavy breaths mingling when you look down in tandem, hungrily watching your small, delicate hand pumping up and down his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, his dark crown of cropped curls falling back against the couch, “You make it fuckin’ hard to be a good guy.”

You smile, spreading the slick dribbling at his tip around the head of his cock.

God, the sight of him never gets old.

“Good guys listen, Javi,” you tease, managing to pull off an air of sultriness, “Not just to no—also to yes.”

A lazy, roguish grin spreads across his face. “You are feeling better, aren’t you?” and he knocks a squeal out of you when he cages you in his arms, flipping you over ‘till your back’s digging shapes into the worn-in cushions below. “Gettin’ mouthy already.”

You giggle up at him, but all of your noises dwindle when a few rough fingers push your torn, ruined underwear to the side. You grow especially wordless when one separates your folds and makes its way inside you.

Javi gives you his signature look of condescension, of mock pity.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He taunts, thumbing that aching bundle of nerves. “All the ways I’ve had my dick in you, just this—” he makes a point to curl his fingers towards himself, pressing against the most desire-stricken spot, “—‘n you can’t find your words?”

Your throat won’t open, choking around your own pleasure. Instead, you nod with enthusiasm, desperately clinging onto his forearm. “More.”

He quickly accedes, pushing another long and thick finger inside you. You shudder at the perfect sting—the stretch—as your opening hugs his knuckles. Javi mutters curses to himself, angry and lustful, supervising your writhing form.

“No one else gets to see you like this.” He speaks low, sitting up to work you with both hands. Your body responds without your permission; Javi clicks his tongue and shoves you back down when your hips buck up. “Don’t deserve it,” he continues voicing his thought as if no interruption had occurred, “I’d have to track ‘em down and kill ‘em.”

His tone goes beyond protectiveness, easily veering into the realm of the possessive. “I-I wouldn’t be good f-for them, Javi,” you manage, wanting to comfort him, to calm him, “Wouldn’t—wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh,” he smirks down at you, finally pulling his fingers from your soaked, ready cunt. “Like you listen to me?”

You spread your legs for him, shimmying down until he’s hovering right above you. He strokes himself, taking you in with hunger, playfulness and… something else.

Something like devotion.

A smile. You stroke his jaw. “You come harder when I misbehave.”

He shrugs and nods, a silent, ‘you got me there,' before lining himself up at your entrance.

You whimper, a pathetic, pleading sound, when the head of his cock finds your opening. “Then make sure to misbehave.”

He rocks inside you, taking note of the way your jaw goes slack, hanging open, and the way your brow furrows, grateful eyes glazing over, showing high praise for that feeling of fullness.

And he laughs to himself.

“Needy fuckin’ thing,” he coos, settling into a comfortable rhythm. “Beggin’ for cock after bein’ kidnapped. I shouldn’t be feedin' into your crazy, cariño.”

It is crazy. But you don’t care, giggling along to his taunt.

“Just makes me feel so-so good, Javi,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” He coaxes, sitting back to tower over you, pressing your thighs to your calves; the new angle has bliss rippling through your centre, your back arching involuntarily. “What feels good?”

He shoves your hips down, lowering a finger back to your clit.

“Oh—God—y-yourcock—” he nods approvingly at you, beckoning you to go on, “your—your fingers, too.”

He slows his pace, pulling out fully before slamming back inside you.

“Look at it, cariño,” Javi instructs, steadying your hips once more. “Watch me fuck your pretty lil’ pussy.”

You struggle onto your elbows and obey, mouth slack and perpetually open. Pressure builds at your core as you watch every inch of his hard, dark length disappear, over and over, inside the shelter of your body. It’s so dirty, and somehow the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“M-made for you, Javi.”

And he moans, an animalistic sound you’d never heard from him before.

“S’right, baby, made just for me.” He flattens his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. “Can you come for me now?”

You nod, grateful for his permission as soon as you start to feel your thighs shake. The tension snaps within you, and you tumble over the edge of your climax with a high pitched whine.

“Good girl,” he praises, low, deep, and bristling with pleasure, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You ride it out. Javi shows no mercy, squeezing your waist and bouncing your lower half against him. His biceps and shoulders strain against his shirt, the sight making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After having him a few times, you were well aware of his impressive stamina—Javi wasn’t going to finish without giving you another one. Nonetheless, the overwhelming pleasure has you squirming away from his unrelenting grasp.

He pulls you back against him, steadying you between two forceful hands.

And he fucks you harder.

“Still remember them, querida? ” He breathes.

You find your voice, using great effort to stammer out a “y-yes."

It's not the correct answer.

Javi growls, “Then I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

His shirt grazes the insides of your thighs, and you're certain that every part of his form is working to set your skin on fire. A skilled hand wraps around your jaw, and Javi leans over you, lowering his lips to latch around a hard, peaked nipple.

Your whimpers do nothing to stop him. He just keeps rhythmically rocking into you, the head of his cock reaching impossible, beckoning depths.

An almost-sob wracks your lungs. “S’a lot, huh? Takin’ all this cock inside you…” Javi shushes you with feigned sympathy, nipping and suckling at the softest spots at his disposal. “S’okay, baby, s’okay.”

Then he makes his way to your lips, forces you to kiss him—deeply—as your lungs scream for oxygen. He locks your hands above your head in just one of his own, the pressure of his weight the only thing keeping your squirming limbs in place.

And then his mouth is sliding down your jaw, his breaths hot and heavy next to your ear.

“Fuck—can feel you gettin’ close, sweetheart, gonna come again?”

All you can do is nod.

He rolls into you—hard and deep—forcing tears to pull from the outer corners of your eyes.

“S-so good to me,” you manage, seeing pure white as your third orgasm of the day blooms from between your seizing legs.

He groans, freeing your hands (which immediately find stability in the firmness of his shoulders) to clumsily wipe the tears from under one dazed eye. Above you, he resembles a hungry, lustful angel, eyes darkened with unbridled need, affection, approval.

“‘M’good to what’s mine, baby,” he whispers, pulling you into the crook of his neck as he chases both your highs. “Come, cariño—s’right, come for me.”

And you do, aching, ruined cunt squeezing and releasing, fluttering around Javi. He moans a downright sinful ‘fuck’ at the sensation, reaching his own peak almost in tandem with yours.

Only once his every last drop is spent, once his groan and your whines have stopped echoing around the unfamiliar, open space, does he pull back from your neck.

And when he looks at you… God. There’s something you’re both not saying.

“Only wanna see you cry like this, baby,” he tells you, laying a long, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Never gonna let them—let anyone—lay a finger on you again.”

Your breath hitches, the words thick and sticky in your throat. The both of you are dazed, breathless, and completely wrecked. “I’m… I’m glad we met. That you—that we’re doing this.”

He raises his eyebrows, crooning a soft ‘yeah?’ as he pushes your hair from your face.

You nod. “You make all of it worth it.”

He’s appreciative when leaning in for a kiss, slipping out of you and groaning against your lips. You tangle your fingers in his damp hair, leaning up into him with every aching muscle in your body, wanting nothing more than to become a part of his whole. When he pulls away, it's only to tuck his softening length back into his briefs. He focusses on you again, leaning over to affectionately stroke your knee.

“Is it just sex for you?”

His question comes as a bit of a surprise—you’d never heard him speak so openly, so innocent and vulnerable.

You cup his face. Despite the fact that he looks like the men from earlier, carries the same guns and ammo, knows what they know, even speaks their language, he’s never seemed so separate from them, an entirely different species.

“No—at first, maybe, but now… No. Not for me.”

He eases into a soft smile, wrapping you back into your blanket before laying back, manhandling you to rest against his still-unsteady chest.

Those masterful hands comfort you in a million different ways. He plays with your hair and traces the highest points of your cheekbone. He massages your knuckles, pulls you in for little kisses, dips into the curve of your waist.

“How about you?” The question is small, even though you anticipate the answer.

He takes a second before answering. When he does, his voice is low, quiet.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” He tilts your head up, his soft, caring gaze probing into every corner of your own. “Honestly, I think it’s been more than that since the first time you said ‘go fuck yourself, Peña.’” He whistles under his breath, exaggerating his approval. “Shit was hot.”

It makes you laugh, but it's also enough to make your heart soar. Settling in to the nook of his neck, you breathe in his familiar, earthly scent, until the exhaustion of the day eventually weighs on you.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, entertained by the fact that while you really should be a wreck, you feel perfectly at ease, wrapped in the arms of your favourite DEA agent. In fact, you can hardly remember what your kidnappers looked like—or sounded like, for that matter—succumbing to slumber, you only think of him.

—

Less than three hectic, hazy days later, you’re pulling a suitcase through the Medellín international airport. There was no sense risking it anymore—you'd have to be transferred to the States until the assholes were caught. Ambassador's orders.

Javi flanks your side, eyes peeled for any abnormalities in your surroundings.

Your heart breaks with every step you take. He comes all the way to the gate without saying a word, merely holding onto one of your bags (that he'd insisted he carry) in a white-knuckled fist.

You’re running behind. There’s not much time.

He doesn’t say he’ll call—knows he’s not that kind of man. You don’t say you’ll visit. You don’t say you’ll write.

No, all you do is lean up on your tippy toes to plant a tender, lingering kiss to his cheek. He returns the favour by cupping your face, leaning down and kissing you intently.

Too intently—as if he were memorizing the grooves in your lips.

Well, that’s what you’re doing, anyways.

Over the loudspeaker, your name is called.

“They’re paging you,” Javi translates, his breath hitting your top lip.

You pull away, doing your best not to cry.

“Thank you.”

It’s all you say—it’s all that needs to be said, really.

Thank you for showing me I matter. Thank you for teaching me patience. Thank you for saving my life three times. Thank you for wanting me. Thank you for making me wait for it. Thank you for giving me a reason to miss this place.

Thank you for loving me. I think that's what this is.

He hears it all, stuffed and contained, overflowing from the two uttered words.

Then he smiles, that well-trained, protective cockiness spreading across his face.

“You’re welcome, cariño.”

You scoff a laugh, slowly dropping his hand and turning towards your gate.

“If I ever visit home…” he calls after you.

You pause, smiling down at the glistening floor, shaking your head. “You’ll never catch me in Texas, Peña,” you call across the traffic of rushing families and over-packed suitcases. He smiles knowingly, hands in his pockets, watching you leave. “Just lock the fuckers up so I can visit. The weather sucks back home.”

You slowly walk backwards towards the exit, ignoring a few flight-attendant-glares, not daring to break off the playful eye contact linking you to your agent.

“I’ll do it just for you, baby,” he calls, grinning like a fool.

Strange. You’d never noticed how the teasing, that snarky back and forth you’d developed together seemed to put him at ease—to relax him. All that time he'd spent, driving you to the brink of insanity... it comforted him.

And that realization was enough to make you beam.

You commit that final glimpse to memory. Javi—smiling, calm, alive, yours. It was rare enough that you felt sure it would stick.

When you finally turn to face the gate, to face your future, you don’t feel like crying anymore.

It was enough just to have met him.

Maybe—just maybe—he felt the same.

—

All my friends tell me I should move on

I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song

Ahh

That's how you sang it

Loving you forever can't be wrong

Even though you're not here, won't move on

Ahh

That's how we played it

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

All my friends ask me why I stay strong

Tell 'em when you find true love, it lives on

Ahh

That's why I stay here

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

There's no relief, I see you in my sleep

And everybody's rushing me, but I can feel you touching me

There's no release, I feel you in my dreams

Telling me I'm fine

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

—

TAGLIST WILL BE CONTINUED IN REBLOG.

Strike-through means I cannot tag.

TAGLIST:

@millllenniawrites @theicypiscean @pining-and-tired @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbees @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @caravelofthesun @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @buckysmainhxe @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @queer-poncho @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @expir3dl0v3 @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @dzaga890 @killerrxger @ayehomo @niallsbunny @cilliansangel @snowyarcher @Eggnox07 @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @julesonrecord @bbyanarchist @stxrgvsm @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @redhotkitchen @princessdjarin @isitselfishifwetalkaboutmeagain @pseudonymist @goldengrapejuice @soullumii @ophealiadrowning @kamcrazy123 @milly-louise @djarinsgirl @cowboychickenlittle

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #javier pena x reader #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier peña x female reader #javier peña narcos #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña angst #narcos fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier pena narcos #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal x you #Salvatore series

2K notes · View notes

wildemaven · 6 months

Text

he makes life better | joel miller

-> pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x reader

-> word count: 1335

-> content warning: 18+ blog; bad day, annoyed with work, dealing with flat tire, joel being sweet, lots of fluff

-> note: this is for my sweet friend @gnpwdrnwhiskey hoping this brings a smile to her face 💞 this isn’t beta’d either so it’s probably filled with mistakes lol.

masterlist

Joel ❤️: How’s your day going Honey?

I’m so ready for my shift to be over. I’d rather read the dictionary, front to back, than deal with the shit they have me doing today.

RING

“That bad, huh?” Joel’s voice brings you an instant smile when you answer his call, silently stepping away from the mess that you were dealing with at work.

“You have no idea. It already feels like it’s been the longest week, today has just added to the shit show life keeps throwin’ at me lately. Went to leave for work this morning and I had a flat tire. Ugh! I’m sorry for complaining.” You vent to him, tucking yourself in a secluded corner. You were going against policy by taking a personal call while on the clock, but you didn’t care about company policy or the outcome of you were to get caught at the moment— Joel was your only focus right now.

“Hey, none of that. Don’t apologize for being stressed. Why didn’t ya call me ‘bout your tire?” Joel asked.

You know he would’ve dropped everything the minute did call him, which is also why you didn’t. He had been stressing over starting at a new job site, one of the biggest ones he had been hired for. The last thing you wanted was to add to his already busy day of things he had to deal with.

“You’d already left for work and had that new job you’ve been talkin’ about. Didn’t wanna bother you with it. I called AAA and had them put the spare on for me so I could drop it off at the tire shop. Now, I’m unexpectedly the owner of 4 new tires.”

“I don’t care how busy I am— you need something, you call me, no matter what. Got that, Honey?”

“Got it, Joel. Thank you.” You smile into the phone at his concern for you, always finding ways to make you fall even deeper in love with him.

“Good. Hey, I gotta go. Tommy looks like he’s about ready to break his back. I should probably go help him before he actually does and my insurance takes a hit. I’ll see ya tonight then, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. I should be outta here in 3 hours.” The end to your long shift, almost over.

“That sounds great! I love you, Honey. I’ll see ya later.” You can faintly hear Tommy cursing in the background.

“Love you too, Joel.” You tell him before the line goes dead. Giving yourself a few minutes of quiet before heading back to join your team and the never ending line of customers.

The rest of your shift goes by fairly quickly. Joel’s phone call must have been just the moral boost you needed to sprinkle a little bit of extra positivity into your day.

The minute the clock hit 5 pm, you wasted no time clocking out and logging out of your computer for the day. Deliberately bypassing your usual exit path to avoid any chatty coworkers, Joel and home your main focus of the rest of your day, you weren’t going to waste any time stuck in drawn out conversations.

Your purse thrown over your shoulder, work apron crumpled in one hand and the other holding your empty tumbler that once held the warm delicious coffee you had hoped would sustain you through the day, now wishing it was filled with something a little stronger to help you unwind when you got home.

It’s a struggle trying to juggle your things as you search for your keys, lost somewhere in the depths of your purse along with the rest of your life's necessities. You pause in the middle of an empty parking space near where your jeep is parked to give the search your full attention. After some thorough digging, you locate your keys and let out an exasperated sigh, one step closer to being home.

Taking a step forward as you press the unlock button on your key, you look up to see an unexpected sight. A familiar truck in the parking spot next to yours, and the most handsome man leaning on it. He looks like he came straight from the job sight, too. His peppered grey hair disheveled, but his soft curls were still intact even after a long day. The sleeves of your favorite green flannel are rolled up over his flexed forearms that are crossed against his chest, the fabric stretched over his broad shoulders.

The sight of him is enough to melt away any of the bullshit you had endured over the past week, a completely welcomed surprise.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, letting your feet carry you the rest of the way to him.

“Heard you were havin’ a shitty day. Couldn’t let my lady end it on a bad note.” He croons, pushing himself off the side of his truck, opening his arms to you.

You melt into him, your face nestled into his shoulder. His rugged scent of musky vanilla and natural pheromones is permanently infused into the fibers of his shirt, it’s your favorite thing ever. His strong arms wrap around you as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, prompting you to straighten up, looking into his amber eyes.

“Hi, Cowboy.” You beam at him.

“Hi.” He says, leaning in to gently mold his lips over yours. “I’ve got a surprise for ya, Honey.”

“This was enough of a surprise for me. What more could I need?” Stealing another kiss from him.

“If I tell ya, it won’t be a surprise then, will it?” He says, tilting his head slightly as he looks at you.

“I guess you have a point.”

“We’ve gotta get going though, it’s time sensitive.” He grabs for your things and walks you around to the passenger door, holding it open as you climb in. “We’ll grab your jeep in the mornin’, if that’s okay with you?”

“Whatever you say, Cowboy.” He leans back in for another kiss, before making his way around into the driver’s seat.

The drive isn’t long. Down some familiar roads that lead to a dirt one off the main highway. His truck travels down the gravel road lined with a barbed wire fence. After a few minutes he’s pulling off to the side and killing the engine.

“You brought me to my favorite place.” Looking over to his side of the truck, where he’s already looking in your direction. Your heart grows at how he thought to bring you here, knowing how much joy it brings you every time.

“Thought you could use it. Look, here they come.” He says pointing to your window.

Off in the distance, the small herd of cows were in pursuit of their evening meal and water break. Mamas with their little rambunctious calves trailing behind, trekking along the same path they travel each evening.

It’s a calming sight. Their heads bobbling with each dramatic step. Tails whipping over their rear ends to swat away the annoying flies. A few stopping mid trek to look in your direction, letting out a long drawn out moo. Their friendly hello, it’s good to see you again, then back on the move.

The sky is painted in pinks and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Your day feeling less shitty as you sit silently in the cab of Joel’s truck. His hand resting on your thigh while his thumb draws soft circles over thick denim seam.

“Thank you for this. Didn’t realize how much I needed it. I love you, Joel.” You tell him, rolling your head over the headrest in his direction.

“I did it because I love you, Honey. And s’what I’m here for.” There’s a low rumble in the air as he turns the key over, shifting the truck into drive. “Now, how ‘bouts we head on home and I spend the rest of the evenin’ show you all the other ways I love you?”

“Take me home, Cowboy.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us au #no outbreak!joel miller #TLOU #pedro pascal #pedrostories #wildemaven writes

441 notes · View notes

tabbedtabby · 2 days

Text

good luck, babe! | chapter 2

regina george x reader

summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.

a/n: i wasn’t gonna add cady but now i am because it’s convenient for me so just pretend she’s in the last chapter lol. also they get high way faster than what’s accurate but i wrote this in like 4 sittings it felt longer to me pls spare me. if the picture collage thing is ugly i’m sorry i’m not a tumblr native 😭 but anyways big thanks to everyone who interacted with the first chapter mwah!!!!! (photo creds from left to right: @/mediorcesav on insta, @/marvelsgirl616, casual mv by chappell roan)

——————————————————————

When the bell rings after 7th period, you’re already halfway out the door.

You’re already sober enough from earlier so you’re desperate to get outside, even if Regina will be there. You bite the inside of your mouth in annoyance. You like your after school alone time; you didn’t want the person who literally ruined your social life to be there. At least maybe she’ll leave right after you smoke. You realize she most likely won’t after you remember she drives. How could you forget that bedazzled orange Jeep?

You feel the dappled sunlight sink heat into your skin once you enter the woods behind the baseball field. It really was a nice day. You make your way to your usual spot and lift up the pile of sticks and leaves that hide your forest stash. The guy who sells to you charges a ridiculous amount for carts compared to just the plant so you try to use them sparingly. Even if this shit stinks up the whole forest.

You’re not sure if Regina will care or not if you start without her, so you pull out your phone to pass the time. Besides, you want to be sober anyway when she finally shows.

After about 20 minutes of standing there, you start to get impatient. You almost pull the bag out to start without her before you finally see a flash of blonde hair from behind the trees.

“Took you long enough.” you mutter, already opening the bag without paying Regina much attention. Your patience was windeled, and you don’t especially want to talk to her anyway.

“Sorry I have a social life. I guess you wouldn’t know,” she snaps back, her voice strained.

You feel the annoyance crawl down your back like a centipede, and you have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from saying something back to her. She holds basically your life in her hands since you’d be both fucked and poor if she decided to snitch on you. Probably not a good idea to start a fight on the first day of your little deal, but she made it difficult.

You grab one of the cans from under the pile of leaves as you see Regina cross her arms a couple feet away from you. Her eyes watching your every move makes you a bit wary on instinct. You feel like a mouse being stalked by a snake. You grab a decently sized piece out of the bag and put it on the crushed can. You couldn’t be bothered to roll your own blunts, so this was the next best thing.

“How much have you smoked before?” you ask, just wanting a general idea on how much she should have so that you wouldn’t have to drag her to the parking lot. Apparently, she takes great offense.

“What are you, my mom? Just hurry up so I can get out of here,” she says begrudgingly, like being out here was the biggest possible drag on her life. She was really grating on your last nerve right now.

“Trying my best.” you respond dryly, giving her a snide smile as you fiddle with the lighter.

“Well, obviously it’s not good enough. What are you even doing, anyway? This is the shadiest shit I’ve ever seen—”

You blow the first hit out of your mouth harshly. “Can you please just shut the fuck up? I don’t want to be out here with you either!”

“That’s shocking. I’m surprised this isn’t your ultimate wet dream, being alone in the forest with me,” Regina sneers, nothing but disgust on her face. Like you were some kind of animal instead of human.

“What’s that going off of? The photo collection that you made up?” you snap, putting the can down for a minute. “Believe me, I want nothing to do with you either. But since we’re gonna be out here every day, you could at least make it a little easier.”

You can tell she wants to rip your throat out just by the way she looks at you. Pursed lips, downturned eyebrows, piercing blue eyes surrounded by eyeliner almost as sharp as the look she’s giving you right now. She’s way too tense for someone about to get high.

“Whatever.” she finally says, although the edge to her voice makes you want to scoff. Better not to sour her mood more than necessary, though.

Pleased with the newfound silence, you light the piece on top of the can once more and take another hit. It’s strong enough to make you cough, and you sit down against the foot of a tree. Regina raises an eyebrow at you.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of professional,” she says, but her voice isn’t quite as taunting as before. It almost sounded like a joke. Maybe she was considering not making this hell for you after all.

“It’s not good if it doesn’t make you cough.” you respond with a shrug. She looks at you expectantly, but you pretend you don’t see. You don’t want to have to stand back up just to pass her the can.

Eventually, she sits next to you (albeit, begrudgingly) and you pass the can to her, lighting it again when she puts her lips up to it. She explodes into a coughing fit the minute the smoke hits her lungs.

You can’t help but snicker at the sight of Regina George coughing her lungs out with just one hit from the can. It was almost strange to see her not perfectly arranged the way she was at school. You were up close enough to see the strings that sew her together.

She glares at you from the corner of her eye, but it only makes you laugh harder. You’re acting stupid right now and you’re aware of it, but you can’t stop. It’s a nice sort of high. Not like when you smoke too much and everything starts to blur together, which happens more than you’d like to admit. But this is nice. You lean back until your back touches the grass.

Regina has a couple more hits until she’s smoked about everything that’ll come out of it, and you both just lay there on the forest floor. You’re surprised she isn’t whining about dirt getting on her outfit. Maybe she’s too stoned to care. She never did answer your question about her tolerance.

Your thoughts go elsewhere as you stare up at the sky. The tops of the trees cover most of it. The sun from behind the leaves make them look almost as if they are glowing. It’s so beautiful. You wish you could reach up and feel it between your own fingertips, the fabric of the sky.

“You don’t care about what I think about you.” You hear Regina say, her voice only a couple of feet away from you. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You don’t why it’s funny to you, but it is. You feel the laugh escape your lips before you can stop it.

“I guess not.” you respond, even though you’re not certain if she wanted a response. It sounded like she was just thinking out loud. You feel that.

“Everyone else does. They grovel to me like lap dogs.” she says amusingly, although her voice drags and you can tell she’s starting to get tired.

“You don’t like it?” you ask with surprise.

“It’s the way it should be,” she declares, as if you’re stupid for even asking. “But everyone else is a less hot version of me. It gets annoying talking to the same clones that hang onto my every word. Like, just be normal for once in your life,” Regina complains, an annoyed edge in her tone near the end. Somehow you could tell she was talking about Gretchen. That poor girl really did hang onto every little thing Regina said or did. It was almost worshipful. But in an unfortunate, sad kind of way.

Her problems didn’t seem all that hard compared to others, but you don’t say anything. It’s intesting to you to hear her talk about this stuff, to see what goes on in her head. You’d never really considered what her life was like. You wonder if there’s a reason she’s the way that she is. There must be. Everyone’s a product of their environment in some shape or form. Of course, it doesn’t excuse everything she’s done, but that thought makes you want to get inside her head somehow.

You shake your head at the silly train of thought. Regina George was just plain mean. Nothing more to it. You turn your head to look at her as you realize you never responded.

Her eyes are closed, hair splayed out on the forest ground. She looks stoned as fuck, her chest rising and falling dangerously slow. You snort and roll your eyes. How low was her tolerance? You already felt mostly normal again.

Somehow she still manages to look perfect, even if you could mistake her as a corpse. You lay your head back down. Your parents wouldn’t mind if you were home a little late, right?

After that, you and Regina would meet to smoke behind the school almost every day, except when Regina had plans with her friends and you would just go alone. You still wish she wasn’t there, but sometimes she’s okay to talk to when she isn’t being a priss. She complains about her friends and boys and how sometimes in the morning her eyelash curler refuses to work. It’s entertaining to hear about how shallow her problems are. You still want to punch her most of the time, though.

This time around, however, she’s complaining about math. Something about her teacher failing her on purpose or something to make her have sex with him to get her grade up. You seriously doubt that’s true, but you listen anyway.

“Like, he’s totally obsessed with me. I know how to do the work, but he always marks it as wrong anyway. That Cady girl helps me with it, and she’s some kind of math freak.” Regina exclaims, taking a huge hit from the smoking can. She immediately sputters and you take the can back from her with a slight roll of your eyes. That’s probably enough for her.

“Is she, though?” you ask, taking a hit from the can yourself. “She’s in my Calc class and lately she’s been doing really shitty. I guess you guys are rubbing off on her,” you say with amusement.

Regina takes a deep breath, an agitated sigh coming out of her. “What’s the point of her tutoring me, then? They’re gonna take me off the soccer team if I don’t start passing like all of my classes. It’s like she wants me to fail.” she seethes, and she sounds genuinely upset. She could afford to pay attention in class instead of doing her makeup if better grades is what she wants, but alas.

You kind of want to offer to help her, but it’s her own fault so you bite your tongue. You put the can down with a sharp sigh. You’d rather not smoke too much around her in fear that you’ll start acting stupid and she’ll post it all over the internet. Just the slightly more giggly high is fine for now.

Regina stares bullets through you as your stash back under the pile of leaves. You pick up your backpack and get ready to leave. You feel fine enough to walk home.

“You’re not gonna offer to help me?” she asks indignantly, as if you owed it to her. You have to bite your lip to keep from groaning in annoyance. Could she be any more of a spoiled brat?

“Why would I do that?” you respond, feeling that your distaste seeps through your voice as well as your expression. You’re tired, both from school and from hanging out with Regina for too long. You just want to go home.

“Because I’m keeping your secret?” she says with that tone that reminds you of a viper. The one she uses to get whatever she wants from people by threatening to ruin them. Your chest bubbles with that same anger as that day in the cafeteria.

“Dude, I’m literally your plug. I’ve done enough for you to keep your mouth shut.” you snap, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. She was really starting to piss you off. That’s how it was with Regina; just when you think she’s all right, she starts doing this bullshit again.

“So what? I don’t need weed. I can break our deal whenever I want. Besides, you’ll only tutor me until the end of the month. It’s not that deep.” It’s only the beginning of October, so you’d be wasting more of your time with her for the next month, but of course she doesn’t include that. God, you’re so pissed off, but what can you do? Not be able to smoke anymore? Get suspended again? You hate that she can just hang this over your head until you comply. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as you stare at her, one of her hands on her hip and her eyebrows raised as if you’re a dog she just told to heel that won’t listen. Your hands bunch into tight fists until your knuckles turn white. You really wish you had seen her with that bruise right about now.

“Fine.” you spit, pushing your way out of the clearing and back towards the school. Great. Now it would take even longer to shake Regina off. You shoulder branches of leaves out of your way, your feet kicking at the dirt. You wished she could just be fucking normal and that she never started any of this in the first place.

“I better see you tomorrow, loser!” You hear Regina scream from somewhere behind you. God, you were gonna kill her. Or yourself. Whichever came first.

#mean girls #mean girls x reader #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george 2024 #mean girls 2024 x reader

163 notes · View notes

gigabyte-flare · 7 months

Text

He Comes Alive (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Your father starts to suspect that Leon is involved with the attacks on the hikers, causing you two to get into a heated argument that leads to your father kicking you out. Lucky for you, Leon welcomes you into his home with open arms

Word Count: 7.3k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, age gap, period cunnilingus/s3x, somno, dubcon, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

This part does contain period cunnilingus, s3x and somno. I have marked the beginning and end of this segment with ✧⭒⭒✧ that way you can skip it if that is not your thing

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

“Do you want to press charges, Leon?” Chief Bob asks as he walks back into his office, sitting behind his desk.

“No, it’s fine Chief Dion. It was clearly just a misunderstanding,” Leon replies; both of you are sitting on the bench across from Chief Bob’s desk again, both his arms wrapped around you.

“Alright,” Chief Bob says with a nod, “I had one of the EMTs run him over to Speare Memorial Hospital to get his nose checked out, then he should be fine to be released. Now then, tell me everything leading up to when you found Nate."

Chief Bob pulls out a notepad and both of you explain to him the events leading up to when you found Nate. You recall the two college boys that you had encountered on the trail when… when Leon was kissing you. How they didn’t smell what you smelled is beyond you. Your mind wanders back to that moment at the Basin, Leon’s muscular body pinning you to the fence while he practically devoured you. You can still feel the traces of his hands roaming down your body to settle onto your waist.

And now, he has you wrapped in his embrace as his fingers comb through your hair. You take deep breaths, taking in the smell of his cologne and his leather jacket.

“I want to thank you both for your bravery in finding Nate. I can’t say I blame those two boys you saw for not checking out the smell. I know that must have been a traumatic experience, but the information you provided will aid in the investigation into what attacked and killed him. You’re both free to go.”

“Thank you Chief Dion,” Leon replies, standing up, taking you with him, “let’s get you home, angel.”

Angel. He’s been calling you that ever since he kissed you. You thought him calling you sweetheart made you flustered; angel is on a whole new level. It makes your heart practically pound out of your chest. Back out in the parking lot, Leon opens the passenger’s side door and you climb into the Jeep while Leon walks around, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“My car is still at your house…” you say as you put on your seat belt.

“I know, it’s fine. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. Right now I think home is the best place for you.”

“Thank you, Leon.”

The drive from the police station to your house is about five minutes. In the back of your mind you wonder how Leon knew where you lived without you telling him, but you’re way too exhausted to question it. Leon pulls into your driveway and both of you get out, which puzzles you because you figured he is just dropping you off.

“You’re coming in?” you ask, tilting your head as you both walk up to the front door.

“Yeah, I figured I’d at least apologize for breaking your Dad’s nose.”

You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle as you open the front door, leading Leon inside your house. Your mother, standing in the kitchen, looking out the window over the kitchen sink, looks at you and lets out a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank goodness you’re ok! When Terry at the police station called, we were worried sick-- where’s your father?”

“He uh…” you begin, but Leon finishes your thought.

“There was a slight misunderstanding between himself and I at the station and we got into a fight. I may have accidentally broken his nose defending myself.”

“Mick attacked you?!” your mother exclaims, clearly mortified, “oh my god Leon I’m so sorry! Please, have a seat at the dining table, let me at least treat you to dinner.”

“Ma’am I promise you it’s fine--”

“You’re better off just letting her feed you, she won’t stop until you do,” you tell Leon with a giggle.

Leon lets out a chuckle, turning his attention back to your mother, “alright. I’d love to join you for dinner.”

“Go ahead and have a seat at the table, Leon. Hopefully Mick comes back and can fire up the grill for some burgers,” your mother says as she takes a bag of frozen french fries out of the fridge.

You and Leon sit at the table next to each other, Leon’s hand rests on top of yours, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. As if on queue, the door to the garage suddenly opens, your father walking in. He appears to have some kind of cast on his nose.

He stops dead in his tracks upon seeing Leon seated at the dining table next to you, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”

“Mick!” your mother scolds him as she gets the fries laid out onto a cooking sheet, “get the grill fired up so we can have some burgers. It’s the least you can do for attacking him.”

Mick groans, walking over to a plate where your mother had already made some beef patties. He looks over at Leon, narrowing his eyes at him.

“How do you want your burger, Leon?”

Leon looks over at your father, smirking at him, “as rare as you can make it, please.”

“Jesus… ok…”

Your father grabs the plate, opening a drawer to grab grilling supplies before heading out a sliding glass door to the backyard. Meanwhile, your mother gets the fries into the oven, setting a timer before she takes a seat at the dining table.

“So, Leon, what do you do for a living?” your mother asks, folding her arms in front of her.

“Well… I’m technically retired actually. I can’t go into too much detail because it’s classified but I used to be a kind of government agent,” Leon replies.

“You’re retired at 36? Good for you! You must get a pretty good pension then?”

Leon chuckles, his cheeks turning a touch pink, “you could say that, yes.”

You watch your mother glance where Leon’s hand is resting on yours, looking back to him and smiling, “is it safe to assume that you’re interested in our daughter?”

Leon’s hand immediately moves off yours, “ma’am I meant no--”

“Leon it’s fine, I’m not like Mick. It’s very clear that the two of you like each other. All I ask is that you treat her right.”

“Of course,” Leon replies, putting his hand back onto yours, making you blush a bit.

Your father comes back inside with the cooked burgers, setting the plate down onto the counter, “Leon’s barely cooked one is the one off to the side there.”

Your mother stands up from the table and begins putting the burgers together. Within a few minutes, the timer goes off letting her know the fries are done. She takes the fries out of the oven, plating them with the made up burgers.

She starts by getting Leon’s plate to him, “here you go, sweetie.”

“Thanks ma’am,” Leon replies.

“Oh please, call me Sandi. There’s no need to be formal here.”

Once all the plates are distributed, both your father and mother seat themselves at the table. You take a bite of your burger, looking over at Leon as he bites into his. You notice as he bites into his burger that his canine teeth seem to be really long and sharp. Leon notices you looking at him, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head towards you in acknowledgement. You shake your head, drawing your attention back to your burger. You’re probably just imagining things from all the stress today.

You all eat in silence, watching your father shoot daggers in Leon’s direction with his eyes occasionally. When the two of you finish dinner, you quietly excuse yourself to your bedroom, Leon following close behind you. Your father begins to protest, but you watch as your mother smacks his shoulder with the back of her hand. You head up the stairs, the heavy footfalls of Leon’s boots following behind you. Reaching the top, you walk up to your bedroom, grasping the handle, hesitating momentarily before opening it.

“Excuse the decor, this room hadn’t been touched since I was in high school. I’m still trying to get all the posters down.”

“No judgment from me, angel.” you hear him reply, your heart immediately fluttering in your chest as you turn the knob to open your bedroom door.

You walk into your bedroom, walking over to your bed and sitting on the side of it. Leon steps into the bedroom as well, closing the door behind him before walking over to the bed, sitting next to you. He turns towards you, his hand coming up to gently grasp the side of your neck, a playful smirk crossing his lips.

“Now then, where was I?”

Before you can even prepare yourself, Leon’s lips seal over yours, his hands grasping at your body as you shift yourself onto your bed even more. Leon wastes no time gently pushing you down onto your bed, caging you with his body as he continues to kiss you. His lips move from your mouth, to your cheek then finally trailing down to your neck. His name escapes your lips in a soft moan as your right hand runs through his hair. You feel his teeth gently graze your neck before he begins sucking love marks into the side of your neck. You can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge of your own pleasure when Leon suddenly stops, staring down at you, his blue eyes so dilated that his eyes almost look black.

“I should probably get going,” Leon whispers, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead before he climbs off of you, standing back up.

“Do you have to…?” you ask, your voice pleading for him to stay as you sit up, once again sitting on the side of your bed.

“I do, I’m sorry angel. I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up, I promise.”

You stand up, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around him to hug him. You feel him wrap his arms around your body, feeling his lips kiss the top of your head. After a few minutes, he lets go and both of you leave the bedroom, heading downstairs. You open the front door for him, both of you stepping out into the night. Leon leans down, giving you one last kiss on the lips before he turns, walking back to his Jeep, climbing inside and starting the engine. You lean against the threshold of the front door, watching Leon drive off into the night, your heart still pounding in your chest.

“How about that guy at the Basin today, huh Jake?”

Jake had been zoning out, staring at the small fire he and his best friend, Brad, had built off of one of the trails leading up to the summit of Mt. Liberty. His attention snaps to Brad, who has a shit eating grin on his face; he matches him with his own.

“Yeah dude, I thought for sure that glare was going to set us on fire. Do you think if we hadn’t said anything that they would have started fucking right there?”

“Oh no doubt,” Brad replies, grabbing a stick from beside him, using it to poke at the small fire, “you could tell she was really into it, too.”

For a few minutes, the two make small talk and crack jokes as they share a pipe filled with marijuana, each of them taking several hits on it. Brad suddenly stands up.

“I gotta take a massive piss, be right back,” Brad declares as he turns and heads into the depths of the woods.

“Watch out for hiker-eating monsters, might take a bite of your dick!” Jake says with a laugh as he takes another hit from the pipe, blowing out a large cloud of smoke from his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up Jake!” Brad calls out to him from within the woods.

Jake snickers, clearly amused with himself as he takes a few more hits off the pipe. He can hear rustling coming from the direction Brad had went, but passes it off to just being Brad until--

“Jesus Christ what the fuck is THAT?!”

“Brad?!” Jake calls out, reaching down to his bag to pull out a hunting knife and a flashlight, turning it on.

Immediately Jake hears Brad screaming, his voice carrying further away from the camp, so Jake makes chase.

“Brad! Where are you?! Are you ok?!” Jake calls out continually as he runs deeper and deeper into the woods.

He suddenly stops in his tracks when he starts to see blood splattered all over the ground, his flashlight slowly making its way to the source. What the flashlight finally settles on is almost incomprehensible. It is a man, but… not. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of dark colored cargo pants with work boots. Dark veins sprawl across the exposed skin, but that’s not the weirdest part.

Four claw-like appendages are coming out of the man's back and a long, scorpion-like tail moves back and forth. The man’s mouth is latched onto his best friend’s neck, clearly sucking the blood out of him as the flashlight settles onto the man’s face; the flashlight can be seen visibly shaking. The man has short blonde hair with piercing red eyes that immediately shift to focus on Jake. The man… no… the creature takes its mouth off his friend, revealing two long, sharp canine teeth, reminiscent of a vampire. Blood drips from the fangs and its mouth as it starts to grin at Jake; it’s tongue licking the blood off its fangs.

“Holy fucking shit…” Jake mutters as he starts to walk backwards away from the creature.

The creature suddenly lunges at Jake, causing Jake to stumble backwards and start running as fast as he can in what he believes is the direction he came from. Jake tries hard not to look back to see if the creature is pursuing him. Unfortunately for him, though, his foot gets caught on a tree root that is sticking out of the ground, his ankle making a loud pop sound as he’s thrown onto the ground. The flashlight and hunting knife slip out of his hands, landing several feet away, landing so that the flashlight is pointing backwards from whence he came.

Jake hisses, turning onto his back before sitting up to check on his ankle; it’s clearly either broken or severely dislocated. Jake can hear footsteps, his gaze shifting up as they approach. He watches as boots appear in the flashlight’s beam, and as the creature stalks closer, he sees that it's standing upright, its back claws flexing and tail swinging back and forth as it gets even closer; soon Jake can see blood has dripped down onto the creature’s chest, the black veins on its skin now appearing darker than they had earlier. The creature’s blood stained mouth is smirking at him.

The last thing Jake remembers is the creature descending upon him, its mouth latching onto his neck as its fangs pierce into his skin. His blood curdling scream cut short when his throat is ripped out.

A couple days pass after you and Leon had found Nate dead, you wake up to get ready to go work at Leon’s house with the worst abdominal cramps. You almost roll out of bed, going into the bathroom after picking out your outfit for the day to find that you had unfortunately started your period and it had completely ruined your underwear. Sighing in frustration, you throw the underwear into the trash in the bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet to take some Tylenol for the cramps.

After getting yourself cleaned up and dressed, you head downstairs into the kitchen to make yourself some toast for breakfast, clenching your lower stomach in an attempt to ease the pain, praying to every deity that the Tylenol would kick in soon.

“Oh sweetie, you don’t look so good! Are you alright?” you hear your mother ask as she comes into the kitchen.

“Yeah I’m ok, I got my… you know… I just took some Tylenol so that should hopefully kick in soon.”

Your mother walks over to the radio, turning it on before she then walks over to the coffee maker, hitting the button on it so that it would start brewing.

“So… what’s on the agenda today for my favorite remodeling couple?” your mother asks, giving you a playful smile.

You giggle, your cheeks turning red, “we should be finally finishing up the kitchen today. I think he wants to start the living room next.”

“Breaking news, authorities have now reported that two more hikers have gone missing in--”

“Mom, turn up the radio!”

Your mother turns her attention to the radio, turning up the volume.

“--Fish and Game officials have now officially closed all trails in Franconia Notch until the animal responsible can be found and euthanized.”

“Oh my god…”

“Quick let’s turn on Channel 9,” your mother says, grabbing your hand and leading you into the living room where she turns on the TV to the news.

“Good morning, New Hampshire. This just in, Fish and Game have just reported that two more hikers have been reported as missing. 22 year old Brad Shaw and 21 year old Jacob Duprey, both students at Plymouth State University were reported missing by University officials when they did not come back to campus for their classes--”

The picture of the two of them comes up on the TV, your eyes widen as you cover your mouth in shock.

“What is it, sweetie? Do you know them?”

“I didn’t know them, but Leon and I saw them the same day we found Nate dead on the Basin trail…”

“They should have closed the trails long before now… those poor hikers…”

Your father comes in, stopping to watch the news report playing on the TV, “Does anyone else think it’s odd that these attacks started happening shortly after Leon moved into Archie Mason’s place?”

Both you and your mother turn and look at your father; you raise an eyebrow at him, “Dad, you can’t be serious…”

“I am serious! The attacks started happening within a week of him showing up!”

“Dad, I saw Nate. There is no way a person could have done that to him!” you reply, raising your voice as you turn to face your father, approaching him.

“Then what else could it be then, huh?! How else do you explain what’s going on around here? He has to be connected somehow!”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to see him!”

“Mick stop--”

“No Sandi, I won’t stop! There is something not right about him, I’m sure of it!”

“Honey now you just sound ridiculous…” your mom replies, stepping between you and your father, putting her hands on his shoulders.

“When he broke my nose… I didn’t like the look in his eyes… it wasn’t right… something isn’t right, god dammit!”

“Dad, come on!” you say, throwing your hands into the air and turning to go back into the kitchen to grab your toast.

“You get back here young lady! We’re not done!” your father roars from the living room, your mother now physically restraining him.

“I need to go to Leon’s house to work and you’re not stopping me,” you say, walking over to the coat rack next to the front door and putting on your denim jacket.

“You walk out that door and you are NOT allowed back, do you hear me?!” your father’s voice booms through the house.

“Mick, what is the matter with you?!” you hear your mother interject.

As much as your father got on your nerves sometimes, the statement hit deep and it hit hard, causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes as you grab your purse. You walk up to the front door, hesitating for a moment before opening it. You blink your eyes shut, a tear running down your cheek as you wrestle with your conflicting emotions. Surely your father wasn’t being serious, right? You push the door open; as you step out you can hear your father shouting after you. You rush over to your car, whipping the door open and getting in just as your father bursts out the front door, his face red in rage as he stomps over, slapping his hands onto the hood of your car as you start it.

You immediately throw the car in reverse, backing out into the street and peeling off, your tires squealing on the pavement as you make the drive to Leon’s; at this point, tears are now streaming down your face. You could only hope that your mother could talk your father down. You get there in record time; it’s a miracle you didn’t run into any cops and get pulled over, however, you reckon they’re probably out looking for the latest hikers to go missing. Parking your car in its usual spot outside of Leon’s house, you go inside, dropping off your jacket and purse before proceeding to the kitchen.

Leon is already hard at work, installing the last of the kitchen cabinets. He hears you come in, he turns to you, giving you his trademark smirk that never fails to give you butterflies.

“Mornin’ angel!” he says, suddenly noticing your eyes are red and puffy, “hey… what’s wrong?”

You waste no time grabbing your paint roller and paint, pouring some into the pan before rolling the paint roller in it, “sorry… I got into a fight with my Dad this morning before coming here.”

“About what?”

You stop just before you begin to roll paint onto the wall, taking a deep breath before you reply, “about you. He thinks you’re somehow involved with the attacks on the hikers.”

Leon scoffs, “that’s ridiculous.”

“That’s what my Mom and I said, but he wasn’t having any of it. He said to me just as I was leaving that if ‘I walked out that door that I wouldn’t be allowed back.’”

Leon shakes his head, groaning in disgust, “I really don’t like how he treats you, angel.”

“I’m just hoping Mom can talk to him, get him to see just how ridiculous he sounded that way I feel better going home tonight.”

“Stay here tonight.”

Your eyes widen as you look over at him, “Leon, I can’t ask that of you.”

“It would make me feel better if you stay here tonight. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Leon, I'll be fine, I promise. My Dad would never hurt me,” you reply, focusing on finishing painting the last kitchen wall.

“You seem to be forgetting that your father tried to strangle me.” Leon said in a ‘as a matter of fact’ kind of tone.

The worst part is, he’s right. Your father had tried to strangle him. Your father has always been quick to anger but you’d never seen him lay a finger on anyone until that day in the police station. Your father was clearly becoming more and more unhinged; especially with this recent allegation that Leon is somehow involved with the hiker attacks.

“Alright… I’ll stay here tonight.”

Immediately you notice Leon’s whole expression light up before he returns his focus on the final kitchen cabinet. The two of you finally finish up the kitchen, it being late afternoon by the time you do so. Both of you work on moving the supplies into the living room, but as you start to pour more paint into the pan Leon stops you.

“Let’s call it a day, angel. We can start the living room tomorrow since you’ll already be here.”

You nod, putting the lid back on the paint, grabbing a nearby hammer to hammer the lid back down. You sense Leon walk up from behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He gently rocks you back and forth before placing a kiss onto your cheek.

“Want me to order us some pizza, angel?”

“That sounds perfect, Leon,” you reply; you can’t help but smile.

He places another kiss on your cheek before walking back into the kitchen, you hear him pick up the phone that’s hanging up on the wall in there and place an order for delivery. About 45 minutes later, the pizza arrives and Leon gets it, paying the delivery driver before coming into the living room with it while you relax on the couch, channel surfing on his TV.

“Go ahead and dig in, I have to check something in the basement really quick, ok?” he says as he sets the pizza box onto the coffee table, giving you a quick kiss on the top of your head.

You watch him go out into the hallway, approaching the padlocked door. He takes his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the padlock and opening the door, listening to him descend the stairs. There’s a part of you that wants to follow him into the basement, just to see what is down there, but you don’t, you remain on the couch as you open up the pizza box, grabbing a slice and biting into it. Some time passes, however, and Leon still hasn’t come back up yet. Before you can decide to go check on him, you hear him coming up the stairs, watching as he walks out, locking the door with the padlock before joining you on the couch.

He positions himself so that he’s behind you, having you seated between his legs as the two of you lay on the couch, eating pizza and watching some sitcom that you landed on as you were channel surfing. Your lower stomach suddenly cramps up, causing you to visibly and audibly wince in pain.

Leon immediately notices, “you ok, angel?”

“Yeah sorry… this is probably too much information but I started my period this morning. The Tylenol I took this morning must be wearing off.”

“Oh you poor thing,” Leon whispers in your ear, his hand snaking its way to your lower stomach, massaging his hand into it as he gives you gentle kisses on the side of your neck.

Despite your cramps, his touch felt incredible and you find yourself turning into putty in his embrace. You’re suddenly startled by the sound of Leon’s phone ringing from the kitchen.

“Something tells me that’s my father, I’ll go answer it.” you say as you get up off the couch.

“You sure, angel? I can get it,” Leon replies as he gets up, following behind you.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” you say, walking into the kitchen, picking up the ringing phone, “hello? Kennedy residence.”

“Of course you’re still at his house…” you hear your father say on the other end, you look over at Leon, giving him a slight nod to let him know your suspicions had been correct.

“Hello to you, too, Dad,” you say, trying to make your irritation clear in your voice.

“You need to come home right now.”

“Really? Because I clearly remember you saying if I went to work this morning that I wouldn’t be welcomed back.”

“Well I’d rather you be here than with him. If you don’t come home, I will call the police.”

“Dad, you can’t call the cops, I’m an adult!”

At this point, Leon must have had enough because he steps up beside you, grabbing the phone from you, “if you call the cops, Mick, I will report you for making a false report. I used to be a cop; you can’t pull the wool over my eyes.”

He used to be a cop? you think to yourself, biting your bottom lip as you picture him in a police uniform.

You can’t understand what your father is saying to him, but you can tell he’s yelling because Leon holds the phone about a half an inch away from his ear, closing his eyes and letting out a long exhale through his nose.

“Well since you’re so keen on shoving your nose where it doesn’t belong, will you stop yelling at me long enough to explain?”

You watch as Leon brings the phone back to his ear.

“What I’m about to tell you does not get repeated under any circumstances or I will have you arrested. I am a government agent, not a retired one. The branch I work for is called the Division of Security Operations, specializing in dealing with Bio-Organic Weapons, B.O.W.s, and I’ve been sent here to locate and kill a B.O.W. that got loose and is now wreaking havoc on those hiking trails. There. Are you happy now?”

Your eyes widen in shock not only at Leon’s admission, but at the fact there is some kind of weapon… a monster, loose in the forest.

“Yeah I hope you’re fucking sorry,” Leon continues, “however she’s still staying with me. In fact, I might even have her move in with me, if she wants to, of course.”

Leon looks over at you, giving you a playful wink as you digest what he just said. You feel your stomach twist into knots.

“Your days of controlling your daughter are over, you hear me? She and I will have a chat about her moving in and you’re going to accept whatever she decides to do. Take care of yourself, Mick,” Leon finishes as he slams the phone back on the receiver.

The two of you stand by the phone in silence, your mind spinning.

“I know that was probably a lot to take in just now, but unfortunately the same applies to you, if you repeat that to anyone, I’ll have to have you arrested, too,” Leon says as he places his hands on your hips, pulling you gently to him.

You quickly shake your head, looking up into his ocean eyes, “o-of course not! I won’t say a word to anyone, promise!”

“Good girl,” he purrs, leaning down to give you a kiss on the lips.

After the two of you break the kiss, you continue, “do you really want me to move in with you? You don’t think that’ll be moving too fast?”

Leon smiles down at you, “I have never been more sure of anything in my life, angel.”

You gather that Leon can feel your hesitation, he wraps his arms around you in a protective hug, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Stay here for a few nights, then see how you feel, how does that sound?”

“O-Ok… I can do that, Leon.”

Leon is in heaven, or at least as close to heaven as he’ll ever get. After getting his angel to stay with him at least a couple nights, he got her back into the living room and back onto the couch, where he has her between his legs, his arms wrapped around her as the both of them ate the pizza he ordered and mindlessly watched TV.

He was grateful that her father had called, having pulled the government agent story out of nowhere to get Mick off his ass, at least until he could find a way to get him out of the picture. He is clearly protective of his offspring and for Leon, that is a problem; he may have gotten Mick off his ass now, but it was only a matter of time before Mick would be back on it again.

The subtle scent of blood lingers in the air, he smelled it as soon as his angel had come into the house. She didn’t have to tell him she was on her cycle, he already knew. He had to make an impromptu trip into the basement to quench his thirst because of it. As the night wears on, he feels her become totally limp in his embrace as sleep takes her. He takes the remote from her hands, flipping it to the news where they’re reporting on the two missing hikers from Plymouth State University. What would his angel do if she knew one of them was in the basement right at this moment, barely clinging to life to serve as his meal?

It was a good thing he grabbed the other hiker and brought him here as he watches the report that they’re closing all the hiking trails in Franconia Notch. He’d have to find another way to get his meals. He might have to expand his hunting radius but he’d worry about that later. Soft snores from his angel break his thoughts, he looks down at her, giving her a gentle smile. He slowly moves out from under her before picking her up in his arms, carrying her bridal style up to his bedroom. Once in his bedroom, he approaches the bed, gently laying her onto it. She stirs in her sleep, her eyes opening slowly.

“Leon?” her voice barely a whisper as she fights her fatigue.

“I just brought you up to the bedroom, it’s ok,” he replies, running his fingers through her hair, “go ahead and get yourself comfortable, I’ll just be in the bathroom for a minute.”

Going into the bathroom, he turns on the light and shuts the door behind him. Pulling off his shirt, he lets himself relax for a minute; the black veins slowly appear as they sprawl over his skin, his eyes turning red as he stares at himself in the mirror. He’s hopeful that he won’t have to hide his true nature from her for too much longer; once he gives her his gift, he’ll show her that he’s the perfect mate for her.

He inhales deeply, rolling his head; slowly the black veins start to disappear once more and his eyes are back to their brilliant ocean blue. Discarding his pants and boxers, he finds a pair of gray sweatpants, putting them on before opening the bathroom door back up and shutting the bathroom light off. He sees she’s under the covers, her shirt and pants laying in a pile next to the bed. He approaches the opposite side of the bed where she lay, getting himself under the covers with her, wrapping his arms around her as he closes his eyes.

✧⭒⭒✧

However, no matter how much he chases sleep, it never comes. The subtle scent of blood is still driving his hunger wild. Meanwhile, she is sound asleep on her side; he watches as her chest gently rises and falls with each breath she takes. He gingerly tosses the covers off of both of them, admiring her nearly nude form. He fought with himself for a moment, not wanting to feed off her to sate his hunger; then, he has an idea.

He positions himself at the end of the bed, gently rolling her so that she’s on her back. Hooking his fingers onto the hem of her underwear, he slowly pulls them down off her, slipping them off her legs before tossing them onto the floor with the rest of her clothes. He gently parts her legs, taking a moment to admire her cunt; he practically salivates when he sees the telltale string coming out of her. He climbs on top of her, being careful not to wake her as he wraps his index and middle finger around the tampon string, slowly pulling it free. Once it’s out of her, he climbs off her, walking into the bathroom for a moment to discard it before coming back to her, nestling himself between her legs. The smell of her blood is overwhelming now as he brings himself within inches of her hole.

His fangs descend in his mouth, but he doesn’t care, she won't be able to see them in the low light, not like he can see her. He runs his tongue up her slit, his lips then sealing themselves over her clit as he gently sucks on the sensitive bud. He then slips two fingers inside her, curling them upwards inside her to stimulate her g-spot; he hears her moan softly, her hips gently shifting beneath him.

“Wha--” he hears her say as she rouses from her slumber, quickly realizing he is in between her legs, “L-Leon! What are you doing?!”

He unlatches himself from her clit, looking up at her and smiling while he continues to fuck her with his fingers, “shhhhh it’s ok… just let me take care of you. It’ll help your cramps, I promise.”

“But I’m on my-- oh my god…!” she attempts to protest, but is cut off by her own moan as she lays her head back onto her pillow.

He watches with delight as her hips move in time with his fingers digging into her, his pupils dilating as blood begins to seep onto his fingers.

“Doesn’t that feel good, angel?” he purrs as he slowly pulls his fingers out of her, taking a moment to clean his fingers off like a lollipop.

The sudden wave of euphoria hits him like a train; her blood tastes divine, unlike anything he has ever tasted ever since he was given his gift. Looping his arms around her thighs, his mouth dives back between her legs, his tongue forcing its way inside her. He lets out a low growl as her blood flows into his mouth, unable to contain himself as he fucks her with his tongue. Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair, pushing down so that he stays there; clearly she’s enjoying herself, much to his delight.

Her legs violently tremble in his grasp as she edges closer and closer to her release and he doesn’t relent, his nose pressing into her swollen clit as his tongue continues to devour her. With a loud cry, she finally comes on his tongue, a mix of her arousal and her blood flowing freely into his mouth, which he happily swallows. He reluctantly unlatches his mouth from her entrance, blood dripping down his lips and chin and onto the sheets. As much as he wants to lick her blood off his lips, he doesn’t, instead wiping it from his mouth on the back of his forearm before he proceeds to slip off his sweatpants, his erection springing free from its fabric prison.

He strokes himself momentarily before he settles his hips between her legs, pressing the head of his cock against her hole. Before he pushes himself inside her, her hand comes up, pressing against his chest to stop him.

“Do you have protection?” she asks, the nervousness clear in her voice.

“I mean, I have a 9mm in my nightstand…”

She playfully punches his shoulder as she giggles, “that’s not what I mean!”

He lets out a chuckle, clearly amused with himself, “unfortunately I wasn’t expecting you to stay the night, so I didn’t think to buy condoms, angel. We can stop now if you want to.”

Please, don’t say stop.

“Promise you’ll pull out,” she says softly, her arms caressing his biceps as she looks up at him longingly, "I want this… I want you…"

He smiles down at her, relieved, as he brings his hand up to caress her cheek, “I promise.”

She gives him a gentle nod, giving him the ok to continue, shifting his gaze down to where their two bodies meet as he slowly pushes himself inside her. It takes everything in him to take it easy with her, his primal need to breed screaming in his subconscious.

He stops about halfway inside her, looking back up into her eyes, “let me know if it hurts, ok?”

“It’s fine… it actually feels really nice. Keep going,” she replies, he smiles when her cheeks start to turn red; he loves how flustered she gets around him.

He then continues to push himself inside her until he’s balls deep. He can already feel her squeeze around his cock; a miracle that didn’t make him cum on the spot.

“I’m going to start moving now, ready?” he whispers, stroking her cheek again to reassure her.

He watches her nod again and he cages her body beneath him as he begins to thrust into her. He leans down, sealing his lips over hers, moaning into the kiss as her arms wrap around him.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so fucking tight… you’re perfect…” Leon growls, his thrusts becoming faster and more powerful.

“Leon… oh f-fuck…! I’m… oh god…!” she cries out, becoming a moaning mess as he pounds into her.

With each thrust he feels the head of his cock kiss her cervix, driving his instinct to breed her wild. He sits up onto his knees, grabbing her legs and looping his arms around them as he chases his release. His angel cries out, feeling her grab his forearms as she cums on his cock. The feeling of her release nearly pushes him over the edge; he pulls out of her before that happens, giving himself powerful strokes with his hand before ropes of cum spill onto her stomach, marking her as his.

As both of them come down from their high, he stares down at her, admiring how lovely she looks covered in his seed, even though he’d rather have it inside her, leaking out of her hole. Subtle movement in his seed catches his attention; a larva from his gift squirming about. Before she has a chance to notice it, he reaches over to his nightstand, grabbing the box of tissues from it and pulling out a few sheets.

“Such a dirty girl you are, angel,” he coos, cleaning up his cum along with the larvae.

Thankfully, she's too cock drunk to even realize what he just cleaned up, her eyes closed as she takes deep, heavy breaths as her body trembles beneath him from her own orgasm.

He takes a moment to lick her blood from his hand while his angel’s eyes are closed. Standing up from the bed, he leans down and places several kisses on her cheeks and forehead.

“How was that, angel?” he asks, smirking.

He watches her eyes slowly open, looking at him with complete admiration as she continues to take deep breaths, “that was perfect. You were right, it did actually help with the cramps.”

“It’s like I know what I’m talking about,” he replies with a chuckle as he gently coaxes her out of bed by taking hold of one of her hands, “come here, angel, let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep, hm?”

The two of them go into the bathroom, Leon making sure to toss the tissue into the toilet and flushing it before the two of you get into the shower to clean up. Once finished, he guides her back into bed, holding her in his protective embrace as they both drift off to sleep.

✧⭒⭒✧

The next morning, the sound of pounding at the front door awakens him, his eyes slowly opening as he lets out a groan. The pounding at the door continues, which causes his angel to stir in her sleep.

“What’s that noise… Leon…?” she asks, her voice slurred from her slumber.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to go check, keep getting rest, angel,” he replies, giving her a kiss on the top of her head as he climbs out of bed, grabbing his sweatpants and putting them back on before heading downstairs to answer the door, “I’m coming, you can stop pounding my door down!”

“Good morning Leon, sorry to bother you,” Chief Dion says as Leon opens the door, “got a few minutes to chat?”

Part 5

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #vampire!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes #he comes alive

459 notes · View notes

harrysonlylover · 1 year

Text

Pride & Prejudice or (Mechanic Harry Part 4)

Summary: Your relationship with the Mechanic in town seems to flourish as you spend more time working for him. Except that you both begin to cross friendship lines whether intentional or not.

WC: 10.4k

A/n: So sorry that part 4 took this long, i hope that didn’t discourage you from reading :( enjoy lovies🫶🏻

Mechanic H Series

Today is a good day.

The sun is golden, the trees in the field are dancing and bunny is hopping around the strawberries Harry planted. Some bluebirds flew around the house and landed on the kitchen window, aiding the tune being played on the yellow scratchy vinyl.

Rays of sunshine snuck in and painted the house with a warm ambiance that Harry could never give up, even Snowy expressed his love by sleeping under the sun.

Unfortunately Harry was unable to ignore the real sun that was missing, he felt his stomach drop when he realized that you already left. He cursed his drowsy state, knowing that he never sleeps in this late. If only he woke up half an hour earlier…

His pondering last night concerning what to cook you for breakfast is now long gone, but as far as he remembers he had decided on strawberry pancakes.

‘Sparks’ by Coldplay was his to-go song in the mornings, he needed something calm to soothe him after a full night’s sleep. But now the lyric ‘Did I drive you away’ is not something he wishes to hear, so he turns it off as the two bluebirds take over the singing.

Instead he plays ‘Je te laisserai des mots’ , it is more suitable for his window friends anyways.

He made himself a quick breakfast filled with protein ( which is sacred to him so he can have energy all day). Snow Bun had some rabbit food, with a chopped strawberry that he devoured first, he needs fuel to play all day too.

Harry trained Snowy when he was a baby , it was harder than dealing with a cat or dog even, yet not impossible. As far as he knows there isn’t much danger in the wide field but he installed a wooden barrier so Bun doesn’t go far away or loses his way.

He also makes sure to inspect the field during his morning run for anything that could be hazardous to the little bun, if he doesn’t have time then he’ll set him up a play area in the house.

Today was perfect for a morning run, so he enjoyed one, breathing in the pure air with his headphones in. The clock was nearing eight in the morning so he dressed up in his denim Levi’s , a custom Gucci shirt with a grumpy bear on it gifted to him by his childhood friend (apparently, he thinks that the bear is an imitation of Harry).

He was almost done with Meena yesterday before what went down between the two of you , he decided to leave it for later during the day, he has a good number of Jeeps to fix.

11 AM.

11:30 AM.

12:00 PM.

Harry kept checking the clock anxiously, perhaps it’s broken and he forgot to fix it? Old clocks need delicate care and recently he’s had his head in the gutter. His phone’s clock confirmed that it is indeed 12 PM, and you are still nowhere to be seen.

You took good care of the garage, helped him quite well and took appointments, yet Harry had a thing for being organized, and you didn’t…

It’s not like you turned the place upside down, but you liked having things close around you instead of organizing them, so his lost crawler (that he later found near broken scooters after he texted you) was stressing him out, and it reminded him of your presence , how you put the item somewhere else even after he tells you where to exactly put it.

His top-secret oil (a mix of oil his chemist friend made and some imported oil from the Middle East) getting lost was his last strike, even though it was your mess that got him startled and disturbed but he does not know yet that he unconsciously cares more about your presence than the items.

He cannot understand for the life of him why you thought you were fired, he never even implied it. What did your anxious little brain tell you?

He knows how anxiety can be, he’s not immune to it, but he can’t help his attitude , it’s how he acts around everyone. Harry was checking the coolant of a Range Rover when he heard the wheels of your bike; he abruptly straightened his posture , watching you attentively as you parked in front of his shop.

Your eyes were fixed on ‘Pride & Prejudice’ as you sat in your regular chair, it’s been like this for fifteen minutes. Uncle George interrupted before you could say hello to Harry. He was a nice old man and you could see how much he means to Harry.

He came for the clock necklace and patted Harry’s back, you can’t exactly point out their conversation but it is quite evident how grateful he is for Harry’s help.

You dug your eyes back into the book, allowing yourself to get lost in Jane Austen’s world. Harry’s presence was smooth, almost unnoticeable but never invisible.

“So what’s that book you’re reading?” He muttered suddenly catching you off guard. You’re not sure how much time has passed since George left. Getting distracted in books is easy.

“Pride And Prejudice”.

“Isn’t it about that guy that hates her but later becomes whipped?”

You let out a loud laugh at his own idea of the book, it was somewhat true. It’s just weird to hear him say it.

“Yes Mr.Darcy, it’s a bit complicated I believe that he might have liked her from the beginning, but was afraid of something, I’m not sure but men hide behind their emotions.” You were fiddling with the cover of the book not even aware that both of you are no longer speaking about the book.

“It’s just my opinion but guys always take longer to figure out things, because he really had no reason to be grumpy and mean.” You were speaking rapidly and curiously, as if you were alone in a room, nonchalantly criticizing one of the best classics.

Harry was a bit too silent, his legs spread as he sat in a car, checking its speedometer while he listened to you. A while ago you might have cared about him being calm and unresponsive but now the words rush out from your mouth without even thinking , you’re not sure what shifted but it’s nice, really nice.

You reached the part where Jane got sick and Elizabeth went after her, it was one of your favorite scenes but your reading got interrupted with a shadow blocking the light in front of you.

“Has anyone ever told you that your communication is pretty shit for a social worker?” Harry’s body towered over your resting figure, a thin layer of sweat adorning his face.

“I— what?”

“You didn’t talk about yesterday, nor why you skipped work today. You just immediately sat down with your bloody book” He wasn’t shouting loudly but his tone changed, and he was visibly upset.

“Please don’t shout.” You replied in a calmer voice and placed your book inside your bag.

“I didn’t mean it.” He scoffed and took a few steps back with his gaze fixed on your now disturbed expression.

“Why’d you leave in the morning.” He leaned against the car and spoke in a manner so calm that you barely even heard him.

“I just didn’t want to bother you.” Again you noticed that he doesn’t have music on.

“I don’t understand.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before swiping his hand through his hair.

“Well my presence at the race was rude and then you welcomed me into your home, I felt like I was intruding and being a burden.” You managed to speak as you fiddled with your bracelet.

You didn’t want to confess anything to him or anyone for that matter but especially him. Maybe he’ll think you’re an idiot who overthinks every word spoken or why the wind blew in that direction so instead of bothering anyone, deducing outcomes was easier.

“It’s fine, we’re good. We were both in the wrong and don’t worry about it anymore. My home is not the white house, you can come anytime…” His soft face stared back at you as he hesitated his choice of words.

“…. For Snow Bun of course.” He cleared his throat and awkwardly scratched his head.

“Yes, he is very adorable.”

Even after being vulnerable and speaking out, the atmosphere was still nice perhaps even better. You were not one to communicate and Harry was an argumentative person, an outsider would gape their mouth at your attitude but for now Harry moved around the garage and played David Bowie, and you silently hummed as you arranged the appointments. He managed to sneak the fallen pots inside before you arrived, but it was of no use, you already saw them. And so it goes whatever he hides, you will see.

“Heyy I found my top secret oil!” Harry screamed from inside over the sound of music. He popped his head out a few moments later showing you the oil bottle.

“Did you put it in the refrigerator?” He furrowed his eyebrows inspecting the bottle from all sides while realization struck you as your face turned tomato red.

“I’m sorry! I thought it was Pomegranate molasses.” You cupped your hand over your mouth feeling your heart beat rapidly.

You expected a scolding, perhaps forcing you to pay for it or just grumpy Harry attitude but instead you were met with a toothy grin as his head fell backward before he placed his palm over his eyes and let out the most beautiful laugh you have ever heard.

Harry held back his laughter for the rest of the day and gave in every time he looked at your pout. In your defense, you really thought it was molasses, you apologized repeatedly but he wasn’t really listening, stuck in a laughter daze.

When a customer came to pick up his car and inquired if Harry changed the oil, he looked at you and laughed as you organized his tools, but the customer got rude and Harry didn’t take it well.

”Are you laughing at me?” He tried to appear intimidating but failed to do so as Harry straightened his posture, and crossed his arms against his chest, allowing his biceps to flex almost immediately.

“The fuck is your issue dick? Do you see me laughing for you? Piss off from here.” He sneered at him before throwing the car keys at him.

The man grumbled something under his breath, and picked up his keys off the ground as he continuously cursed Harry who was changing the song choice to 1975 and couldn’t care less.

“What was the man shouting for? Did I mess up his appointment?” You asked him timidly after hearing the man shout loudly.

Harry gazed at you with a troubled look, wincing slightly as he noticed your eager expression, were you waiting for him to shout at you? He regrets not beating up the guy.

“Just men being men don’t worry yeah?”. You nodded at his words and took your usual seat watching him continue to work as you unwrapped your turkey sandwich.

He bopped his head to the ‘The Adults Are Talking’ by ‘The Strokes’ as he took off his rings and placed the leather gloves on his soft hands, they were pretty clean and delicate for a mechanic. This time he allowed his curls to shade his face, not paying attention to his hair clip. Due to the scorching heat, he took off his shirt (which you really liked) and placed it neatly aside where it wouldn’t stain.

The sight of his muscles was something you could never get over; he had phenomenal beauty and you read about Greek gods before but you’re not sure they can compare. Soft waist, artistic tattoos, delicate hip bone, dainty pearl necklace, prominent veins.

His anatomy was graceful like a fallen angel.

You had forgotten to eat breakfast this morning, and when Harry texted you asking to come, you freaked out and packed your sandwich instead of having it. It was your special recipe and the to go lunch sandwich, you were ready to devour it when you glanced at Harry and saw him gazing with a frown on his face making you feel like the worst person on the whole planet.

In a matter of seconds you had the sandwich split into two, leaving a half on the table in front of you and approached Harry who now was even more grumpy, as you stretched your hand to offer him the bigger half.

“Sorry for my bad manners, I should’ve asked, would you like to eat some of my Turkey sandwich?” His face softened a bit at your expression but switched back to his usual tense demeanor quickly.

“Thank you no, I was actually wondering about something else.” The toothpick in his mouth did not stop him from speaking, as he leaned his back against the car, planting his foot firmly against the gravel. His position made his midsection stretch and bend and his V line was getting recognition, you hoped he linked your drool to the sandwich.

“Which is? Do I have something to do before eating? Did you stop lunch breaks?”

Every time you spoke, a little feeling inside Harry sparked, this tiny feeling confirmed his thoughts time and time again. He has to shake himself whether mentally or physically and shut down his urges which most of the time include opening his notebook.

“I guess why you’re eating a sandwich. Does it fulfill you?”

The thing about Harry is that it’s very hard to read him sometimes, is it confusion or curiosity, fondness or kindness. Right now it was a mixture of both wonder and something that you can’t quite catch yet.

“I mean I think so. You don’t want to try it?” Your pout told him all he needed to know, if he didn’t take the sandwich from you, you’d probably think about it for days but right now Harry had something else on his mind.

“Can you stay here for a bit? Don’t go after me and don’t eat the sandwich” He ordered with a stern look before throwing his tooth pick in the garbage , closing the hood of the car and going inside the store.

You were not exactly sure how to feel, you don’t even know what he went to do, maybe he felt guilty or shy from your food offer. Either way you are really hungry and you wouldn’t mind sharing food with him so where did he disappear?

Harry has never cooked for someone else in his life until you.

He can’t really recall what led him here, or why he’s cooking meat right now and boiling pasta. His chef techniques were meant to be reserved only for him and Snow . His legs did lead him here and his hands keep chopping the vegetables without a direct order. Lately his nervous system seemed to be betraying him, acting upon some certain actions that make him beyond confused.

Maybe if he had an explanation after it was done, it would’ve put him at ease, except that he doesn’t. He likes to be direct and see immediately through people, and that was the problem with you, he was seeing too much.

Why did it matter if the pasta’s boiling was medium or fully cooked or if the change in spices was necessary? He could not for the life of him understand many things.

Maybe Snow Bun can help.

Harry has been inside his garage for the past 35 minutes, at first you were worried and he had asked of you to not follow him, so you respected his boundaries.

Your worry slowly fled away when you smelled it, the scent of tomato sauce and the unmistakable scent of meat, you assumed that your mind was playing tricks on you and it was your hunger that made you imagine things.

But as more time passed you knew that you were not a lunatic and that Harry really is cooking. So you were right then, maybe he was making food because he got hungry and refused to take your food. In moments like these you could see that Harry is just a tender boy at heart, in your opinion everyone is.

We get mistreated a lot that we lose sense of who we are, but the real and soft version of us, the one touched by angels and untouched by demons remains hidden and comes out discreetly but in the most beautiful ways one could imagine. It was kind of your favorite hobby, to see when it shows up , but to get to observe it, you have to know one’s weakness at first then watch them do the exact opposite.

With Harry it’s taking you more time to observe, tender things need more patience.

You got excited at the idea of Harry eating with you, you were used to eating alone, as the only person close to a friend you had was Kitty and maybe Harry but you don’t want to put your hopes up.

You were wrapping up the sandwich again so that it stays edible, before Harry walked out with two plates in his hand, he was still shirtless and the heat from the oven reflected on his sweaty body, he had a chef’s bonnet to avoid getting his hair in the food and the sight of him strolling lazily with his jeans low on his waist and holding food that he made was a sight that will be engraved in your mind for a long time.

He balanced the two plates in one hand effortlessly, and grabbed a chair nearby fixing it next to yours as he set the food in front of you which you figured out is a Tagliatelle alla Bolognese.

“Fancy some pasta?”

Lunch with Harry was nice. He seemed flustered and you’re not sure why, so to save him the embarrassment you opened up a chat about Snow Bun who is probably trying to pluck the strawberries from the garden as you spoke.

You insisted that Harry tastes your sandwich and despite his chef like standards he approved of your recipe but continued to flaunt that his culinary abilities are better.

“My sandwich deserves a Michelin!”

“Excuse you? People would die to have my pasta woman!” He scoffed and chewed with his Bunny teeth that he probably stole from Snow.

He took the plates inside and fumbled around for a certain product then remembered immediately that he ran out of it. You went on a quick walk and bought some of the missing essentials for the shop, and you bumped into Uncle George , who you approached to greet.

“Hello Uncle George, How are you? Can I help with anything?” You offered a sweet smile in case he needed it today.

“Oh bless you child I am well, thank you I’m only grabbing a bouquet of flowers.”

“Ohhh, is it for your wife?” You blushed at the thought of your future partner buying you flowers at an old age. Uncle George is a very sweet man, no wonder Harry is close with him.

“Yes darling it is, she loves yellow tulips.” He pointed at the bouquet he’s holding with an enthusiastic smile.

“Oh that’s so nice I hope she likes them. Have a nice day.”

“Same for you kid, same for you.” You bid him goodbye with another smile and walked away before hearing him again.

“I can see his through his eyes now.”

You turned around to see that he did not repeat his words and apparently not address you even, when he looked back he waved again at you and you returned it with a confused look.

Upon your return, Harry was cursing under his breath in a grumpy state, the music was low and he was standing over an open hood with his fingers examining his puckered lips. He asked for the bottle of brake fluid as you organized the other things you bought in their designated places.

“Can you come over here” He asked a few minutes later.

You found him holding up the hood of the car with his two hands and you can see how his biceps are clenching as his hand fought against the weight of the hood despite holding it like it weighs nothing.

“The hood is broken and I need to fix something else, It won’t balance on the stick, can you please hold it while I check something?” You nodded and took over the hood part , and quickly felt its weight. Damn him and his muscles.

He easily managed to pull heavy parts and put them back, he was really good at his job and no one could deny it. You helped him and handed him over some of his kit as he worked out the trouble.

“The coolant is supposed to have a sweet smell, yet it smells weird and there are no signs of any leak. Flashlight please?” He asked without turning to you but when you didn’t respond for a good while he angled his head towards you.

Your hair was long and straightened and it was getting in the way of your vision since you were bent down, you did not want to tell Harry, afraid that it would seem unprofessional of you.

You were struggling to hold the hood, and the flashlight was farther than all the other tools, when you tried to reach it your back cramped from the weight of the hood and your hair completely clouded your vision.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry it’s my hair. I can’t see.” You winced as you felt useless despite it being the first time he actually asked of you to help yet you were not able to provide it.

“It’s okay you can sit down I’ll handle it.” He replied without glancing at you.

“But I can help—“

“Just sit there, it’s fine.” You nodded and felt the sadness creep into you despite him not being mean, but you really wanted to help.

He’s already paying you way too much to just take appointments and buy new oil. Your body slumped against the barstool and your lips formed a pout as you glanced at the now neglected car, you were making a great team.

“M’gonna need you to stay still for a while.” He came behind you abruptly and swiped his hand through your hair.

His hands were soft even though he spent all day ruining his skin layer with work, you can feel the lotion he just used at the back of your neck. His rings sent a shiver up your spine, as his hand discovered your skin, it was silly to feel that way, so giddy for his touch but you couldn’t really help it.

You’re very shy by nature, and in situations like this you pry from ruining the mood and asking what the other person is planning to do. Even Harry seemed to take a long time to make his next move, his hands kept swiping through your hair tenderly, as his fingers went in and out from your hair strands.

He divided your hair into three divisions, and gently began bringing them together, the first with the second, then with the third and so on. Your heart was drumming against your ribcage, even more so when you realized that Harry was braiding your hair.

You soaked the moment in as much as you could, his knuckles were grazing your back and his touch made you want to crawl in his lap and hug him. Perhaps you were touch deprived or he was just very huggable. Not to mention that you love physical touch, so his hand at your skin caressing sensitive spots along with the soft breeze that’s helping Harry, made you want to giggle and squirm beneath him.

“No one has ever braided my hair.” You blurted out quickly before biting at your inner cheeks. Whenever someone was nice to you, you’d unconsciously share personal things, but again not only is Harry physically near you, but he seemed like the type of person you can feel comfortable around. Not because he wouldn’t object or make snarky comments like other men. Harry was just not judgmental.

Despite all his grumpiness, occasionally rude attitude and short temper, Harry was so soft deep down. You’ve barely known him for two weeks yet but your experience as a social worker aided you in identifying people and uncovering their mask. After all, Harry was a safe bubble, along with Snow Bun, his hydrangeas and yellow house. It is nothing but a courageous attempt at protecting his peace.

“Why? You have nice hair.” He mumbled the last sentence rather faster and quieter as if he didn’t want you to hear it. He even let out a huff as if he couldn’t believe you.

“The girls used to say that my hair is ugly and weird, and that I don’t look like Princesses.” You felt your cheeks burn at the memory, your childhood wasn’t the best, especially when you had to grow up with these said girls.

Harry glanced down at your locks between his hands, they were so pretty that he had to restrain himself from playing with them all day , they smell like strawberries too and he could swear you look like Rapunzel under the sun. Why were people mean?

“I don’t know, sounds like bullshit to me.” He shrugged his shoulders and cleared his throat as an attempt to keep his rough demeanor on.

You didn’t wish to recall these days so you focused on the feeling of his hands again, the wind around you and how the soft tug at your strands was almost like a scratch and made you feel sleepy but safe.

His fingers parted your hair but only for a few seconds, before he added the final touches, and secured the end of the braid with a hair tie. He continued to place inside it something that made your eyebrows furrow, you couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but you had a feeling it looked nice.

“Okay, now you can help me. The car is waiting.” He strolled to the car without any other words and pretended to continue his work, but not forgetting to give a side glance and watch you look at the mirror and at the blue hydrangea petals he placed in between your hair .

Ever since you arrived at this town, you experienced some harsh incidents that can be considered as ‘bad luck’. First, the landlord wanted to charge you double that of other apartments, until he changed his mind and lowered the price thankfully. Then the town was caught in a huge storm, making all shops close down so you couldn’t visit the grocery store and spent two days eating ramen.

Your job is a whole other story, quitting it allowed you to see things from a clearer point of view and learn from your mistakes. Harry’s advice served you good since if not for him you would be deep down a hole of troubles.

Losing your car was the most damaging, it was the only piece you had from your grandfather, also your first car and held many memories over the years. To see it every day in Harry’s garage made your heart clutch, but you know that you would never give up on it, you just need to save a little money.

All these incidents remind you how you will always be alright in the end. It’s been over a month since the race, and as each day passed you and Harry got closer. Breaking down his wall was not easy; you didn’t even fully reach there yet but there is a progress.

You learned that he has a sister in the UK, he loves engineering but wanted to study Music, he didn’t adopt Bun nor had an intention of keeping him. He found him covered in dirt behind the garage so he took him in until he was healthy enough to give him to someone worthy, yet even then Snowy refused to part from Harry and you have an inkling that it was the opposite.

Harry is a big tea drinker; he has packets that he keeps in both his garage and house. He really loves the honey and cinnamon tea, and drinks two cups a day. However he seems to dislike alcohol a lot and described it as ‘piss’.

Niall is his only trusted companion, they bonded over their origin and even though Niall tends to be playful and exactly what Harry hates in people sometimes, but you don’t recall a day where they didn’t speak to each other.

As you concluded from the beginning, he adores music and is a proud Vinyl collector. He once spent 600$ just to get his hands on a special edition of Elton John’s Breaking Hearts. Every other week, he visits a market nearby where he goes on a hunt for new interesting Vinyls.

Your days with him consisted of laughter, he had a way to make you smile even when it wasn’t his intention. He can still get grumpy sometimes, but he was never mean to you, whenever he got mad, he’d lock himself inside the store and get out after 15 minutes only to continue conversing normally.

He braids your hair from time to time, although you never really told him about the other mean things you’ve been told. You knew his preferences enough to get him lunch or a snack, perhaps a gift even, yet you felt like there was more to know but you had patience and in return you must also give him parts of yourself.

You’re not sure how you managed to be around him this long, he was unnaturally gorgeous, you would stare in awe at whatever he does, you never imagined a person to be this beautiful. You could swear his irises change shades every now and then, that his lips stole the color from cherries, and his body an incarnation of a female and male Greek gods.

Being around him made you flustered but not in a bad way, it was a good feeling that reminded you how you’ll be seeing him every morning, how the blood pumps faster to your heart when he’s near you, when your cheeks burn as he cooks for you or delivers a ‘hello’ message from Snowy with a strawberry filled basket.

He was somewhat your only friend and that was an achievement. Making friends is a nightmare for you, you’re not the best at it nor had good experiences in the past years. You’re not sure if you got better at it or if Harry is easy to be around, perhaps he is ,but that would also mean that there is nothing wrong with you.

Kitty was able to note the change in your attitude, how happier you became, but she refrained from saying anything because she already knows the cause behind all this giddiness and why Harry checked out Pride & Prejudice right after you returned it.

“I don’t mean to intrude my boy, but I never saw you as a classics guy.” Kitty spoke as she registered the book under his name.

“Umm, just wanna see what the fuss is about I guess, no other reason.” He tried to hide the blush in his cheeks by awkwardly scratching his neck and fleeing away after grabbing the book.

Kitty was no fool of course, she was just waiting, after all some clocks need delicate care and attention.

The news of quitting your job earned a broad smile from Harry, he looked even happier than you and kept assuring that you took the right decision. It didn’t take you long to find a job offer, the only issue is that it’s out of town but Harry insisted that you apply to see how it would go.

You watched him hop off his bike and remove the Gucci sunnies, before placing his motorcycle inside and taking off his leather jacket, he glanced at you and was about to speak but furrowed his eyebrows instead at your face expression.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Okay please don’t get mad, but I just remembered that my job interview is tomorrow and I know that this is last minute but I really need to take tomorrow off, I can start working on appointments from now an—“ Your anxious rambling made Harry even more confused that he had to cut you off.

“We all forget strawberry shortcake, what time is the interview?” He replied nonchalantly as he took off his shirt. You couldn’t help but blush at the nickname he’s given you for smelling like strawberries.

“Around one in the afternoon, but I have to get up early because I do not know the town and have to find a bus so th—“

“I’m driving you.” He picked up his crawler and walked to a car he was fixing since morning.

“No you don’t have to, I can—“

“It’s not negotiable, I’ll pick you up at 10.” You mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ as he continued to do his work.

Niall popped in around noon and began rambling about his work, what he ate and what he’s been up to as Harry only nodded and kept his focus on the car.

You liked his presence, he was a nice guy and anyone who Harry likes must be a big deal since it doesn’t happen that often, but it’s safe to say that Bun is fond of biting Niall in his leg , recently he’s been avoiding Harry’s House because of ‘the deadly beast’.

Niall swore that Snowy only seems to like you and Harry, even though he is harmless but he just never clicked with the little bun. You thought that it is such an ironic situation since Niall is the one who gets for Harry, Snowy’s food and essentials from his aunts’ store. Maybe he liked the Bun deep down.

When he figured that Harry is busy and will not give him his attention, he turned to you and struck up a conversation, he was very chatty and you found it hard to keep up with him.

“I had a chicken sandwich and I kept thinking about the ones that Harry make, they’re delicious really.” His Irish accent made you giggle.

“There’s leftover Pizza if you want, I can heat it up?” You asked him in case he was hungry.

“Thank you I should really get back but I’m also bored and I had to pass by to make sure Harry didn’t make you run away yet.” He let out a loud laughter and imitated Harry’s grumpy face making you laugh even harder.

The giggles did not go unnoticed by Harry, he could recognize your voice and laughter anywhere but it was infuriating when it wasn’t about something he said.

He decided to let it go as Niall is a funny guy and can make anyone laugh, that is until he heard Niall asking you a question that made him see red.

“Do you want to go out maybe? I know a nice place..” The rest of Niall’s question was inaudible as Harry’s jaw twitched and tightened.

He strolled over quickly to where you were standing with an oil bottle in his hand and spilled it over Niall’s shirt, it wasn’t a secret that Harry is visibly angry, but while Niall was oblivious you immediately caught up.

“Mate the fuck? If you’re mad unleash your anger somewhere else, I’m still in working hours.” He mumbled angrily as he walked over to his car, taking off his shirt and driving away.

You were shocked at Harry’s behavior; you looked back at him and he had anger radiating off his body. He didn’t even look you in the eye. Your arms were crossed in disappointment, perhaps with a hint of confusion and irritation. He knew it too but acted as innocent as a sly cat. He will not get away with it, you thought.

“Your child like antics seem to get only worse. That wasn’t an accidental spill, you were being rude.” You sneered feeling hot fume leave your body as a reaction to Harry’s act.

He dropped the wrench with a thud and strolled toward you with a scowl on his face that did not appear until you opened your mouth.

He trapped you in the corner making you lightly stumble and lay your weight against the bar stool you usually sit in. His face was inches apart from yours and all the blood in your body was pumping fast.

“Do you see how close I am to you? He must’ve been wishing to get to do that, and that’s my problem. You see I could’ve done worse, I was being nice Shortcake , m’kay?”. His piercing gaze softened after he finished talking and he tilted his head to the side smiling lightly, before backing away and lighting a cigarette.

Harry’s fingers kept tapping against the steering wheel as he awaited outside your apartment building, he showed up 10 minutes after you sent him the address as if he’s a standby chauffeur.

He pinched his puckered lips, glancing every now and then at his painted nails then back to the building gate. It’s not even a date or so but his whole body wants to shiver yet Harry mastered the art of controlling his reflexes.

What he did yesterday was unexpected, he took it too far and was really a child. What’s worse is that he didn’t seem to mind it until he got back home and replayed the scene in his mind. He threw oil on Niall just because he asked you out?

Recently Harry has been acting in ways he does not approve of which is quite silly as he controls his own actions yet sometimes, he feels helpless. He tried to ignore it at first, but that only seemed to make it worse.

Getting mad at the thought of someone dating you can only mean one thing and he refuses to accept it. It’s true that the past month was a change from the boredom he encounters at work every day, but it also allowed you to creep inside of him and lay there, Harry’s afraid you’re already welcome.

Thankfully Niall didn’t catch on, but only because this isn’t the first time Harry has been a jerk, but it also happens to be kind of their own thing, to prank each other. He ponders if he should apologize later on to Niall or just let it be, however If he does then it might reveal the fact that it wasn’t a joke.

Harry would consider himself to have fallen down the rabbit hole.

You and your silly books, adorable soft hair that always reminds him of his strawberry garden, weird colorful clothes that would send a fashion designer into a coma, sweet rambles about everything and your claims on being the best Turkey Sandwich maker. He could go on and on and tell every single bit about you, but he can’t and shouldn’t. He knows better than to allow his desires to take over the wheel, which is why he must find a way to climb back out of the rabbit hole.

He got pulled out of his trance by the sound of the door opening then slamming shut, your sudden entrance along with the wind going in your direction allowed Harry to catch a strong whiff of your strawberry scent making him clutch the steering wheel roughly.

“Am I late? So sorry I didn’t know what to wear and what book to grab for the road.” You apologized as you threw your bag in his backseat, trying not to focus on how he’s eyeing your figure without a single word.

After all, it’s a job interview and being elegant was a must. You spent the entire morning going through your closet and trying on every piece you have, to be a bit fair most of them were decent and suitable for an interview yet it was not your potential new boss that you wanted to impress.

The huffs and puffs paid off as you picked a matching plaid blazer and skirt, you faintly remember the last time you wore this set two years ago which is why it wasn’t a surprise when the skirt turned out to be a bit shorter than expected, it was still decent for the interview but also hugged your body perfectly.

Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out when he saw your skirt, you didn’t even bother to wear tights beneath it and your bare legs were a sight. He still didn’t utter anything and it was making you more anxious.

“Soo how long will the trip take?” You asked with your gaze set down on your feet, avoiding him as much as possible knowing that you’ll blush if you just glance.

“Approximately an hour and a half.” He cleared his throat and fixed his Gucci sunnies as he continued to chew his gum.

You brought three different books with you in case you wanted to pass time, but you hoped that you didn’t have to touch them and converse with Harry instead.

You didn’t realize that it would be much awkward when you are outside of work, initiating a conversation is harder let alone maintaining it. What’s making it worse is Harry’s attitude yesterday and what he said to you.

“I could’ve done worse shortcake.”

That exact sentence kept bothering you the whole night as you tossed and turned. Does he like you or is he just a protective friend?

It would be an exaggeration to assume he has a crush on you yet his actions placed you in a tough position. Would it be unwise to open up the subject? Will you even get the answer you’re wishing for?

All you know is that you’re about to spend half a day with him on the road without work distractions, and god knows what will happen but again the chances are below zero.

“Grab the 2nd CD here will ya?” Harry turned on the engine and began rotating the steering wheel with his palm as he stretched his arm behind your head and looked backwards. The sight of him driving like that made you squirm in your seat. You pretended to be fumbling with the CDs but instead you couldn’t possibly miss the sight of his biceps practically bulging through his leather jacket.

He had light stubble as he hasn’t been shaving for a while and despite having sunglasses on, you could see how focused he is, with a gentle furrow of his eyebrows. His hand on the wheel had protruding veins and you smiled at the new turquoise nail polish.

“The CD has a nice mix especially for road trips, let’s get going shortcake.”

The mixtape Harry picked had one of the best songs you’ve ever heard. He has a talent for picking the right tune in any situation. Knowing him, he probably would’ve bought his Vinyl player with him if not for road bumps.

Emerald star by Lord Huron was playing and Harry raised the volume. For the first time since you left town you dared to look at him.

His side profile was majestic, you can’t see his eyes but you assumed they’re in their usual state, unreadable and unbelievably gorgeous. Some freckles lay against the tip of his nose, the weather has been getting warmer and the more freckles appear on his face the more enamored you become.

His jaw flexes as he chews his cherry gum, and if he likes the song he’d tap with his index finger repeatedly, perhaps bite at the skin of his rosy lips. You can tell that he wants to sing along but you don’t want to push him out of his comfort zone.

“Oh what a jewel are you, and oh what a fool am I

For squandering my love on an emerald in the sky”

The song touched your heart as you listened to pure poetry with a melody, it was something else. Even Harry allowed his dimples to show when he first heard the intro of the song.

“I loved it so much, can we repeat it?” You asked as he immediately turned to you with a grin.

“Haven’t spoken a single word since we set off , and you only talk to me because you liked the song? I thought the cat got your tongue.” He placed his sunglasses above his soft curls and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, leaving the steering wheel without control as he cupped his hands around his mouth to light the cigarette.

“Can you not do that again?” His recklessness was a reminder for you to put on your seatbelt and you did so quickly.

“Do what?” He turned to you with parted lips and you could not tell if he’s acting innocent or is actually clueless.

“This.. thing with leaving the steering wheel and looking at me. You’ll get the car crashed.” Your voice showed how timid you are, but it was only fair when he was being so careless.

He let out a deep chuckle, with the cigarette perched between his lips. “I know what i’m doing shortcake, i’ve been driving cars since I was 14. If I want to get us crashed , I would’ve done that in the race.” He took another puff from the cigarette and let it out through the window.

The reminder of the race made you feel uneasy, not only was it terrifying and life threatening but now that you know Harry more, you unconsciously care for him which explains the pit that formed in your stomach at the mention of the race.

“Besides I can look at you whenever I want” He muttered under his breath and you decided to not answer back at any of these remarks.

“If the garage is getting you good money, why do you race Harry? You could get yourself killed.” Your curiosity took control as you found yourself speaking without thinking first.

It was as if he didn’t hear you or chose not to. The silence was loud except for AngelEyes by ABBA blasting on the radio, you slowly diverted your body towards the door and looked out the window, trying not to feel hurt with his attitude.

“I like the adrenaline it gives me.” He suddenly spoke making you turn back to him.

“It has a certain type of rush that I’m addicted to, you could say I’m an adrenaline junkie. I also love how everyone tries to beat me, but they will never be able to do that shortcake.” He elaborated nonchalantly as if he was speaking about an arcade game not a dangerous street race.

You could not possibly lie and say that you didn’t like it, at some point you discarded the fear and experienced some of the adrenaline he spoke of, but you couldn’t also deny how dangerous it was.

He had you in his lap, with one hand secured around your waist yet still managed to drive with risky turns and the other driver’s attempt at getting him to crash. It looked like any daily routine for him.

“Perhaps you can find a healthy addiction?” You didn’t wish to interfere in his life, but being you, helping others to overcome unhealthy habits is a must.

“Hmm, maybe.” He gave you a toothy grin as if he got an idea right there and then but didn’t want to share.

The road ahead of you was slightly familiar, a few cars were driving along but surprisingly not a lot. As soon as Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High by Arctic Monkeys started playing, you rolled down the car window, and let out your upper body as the soft breeze caressed you and allowed your hair to float.

Harry was shocked at your sudden act, he no longer cared if the road was empty or swarmed with cars. Your back was turned to him and your skirt was riding up on the back of your thighs, you had already kicked off your heels when you got in. The door was locked and you still had your seatbelt on, hence why he didn’t freak out, however he had his arm stretched near your waist just in case.

If an officer passed by on his motorcycle, he’d take away Harry’s license. His eyes forgot that the road exists, or that he’s driving, all he could see was you. Your floating hair, spreading the strawberry scent everywhere, the giddy smile on your face like a child experiencing the high of a rollercoaster for the first time or the way you ignored him and pretended that it’s your own world with the song blasting.

You looked like an addiction he could get used to.

‘ You said you gotta be up in the morning

Gonna have an early night

And you’re starting to bore me, baby

Why’d you only call me when you’re high?’

As the song came to an end, Harry’s apprehension took the spotlight as he pulled you in with one swift motion. He can race with many cars cornering him but you push your body outside of the window and the alarms in his brain go red.

You squealed when he pulled you in, as he cut off your little moment with the wind. His questioning expression made you self-aware of what you did making roses slowly creep up your cheeks as you covered your face quickly with your hands.

“Oh c’mon shortcake, that was nice. Did you get your own adrenaline hmm?” He reached his hand and removed yours off your face.

“I just felt like doing it.” You shrugged your shoulders and smiled shyly at Harry.

“Do whatever you want shortcake.”

Time passed easily with Harry. It was definitely not your expectation but you didn’t mind it too. You’ve been on the road for half an hour now, and you had a fight about ice-cream flavors. You’ve been slowly trying to break down his ice wall and now that you’ve laughed together, you thought about taking the conversation further.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked with curiosity reeking from your voice.

“No I will not try your disgusting bubblegum ice-cream.” He grumbled like a child as if you asked him to eat trash.

“No but one day I will make you eat that.” He rolled his eyes at you making you let out a laugh at the thought of him trying on bubblegum ice-cream.

“ So.. is it okay if you tell me how you knew that my ex boss was scamming me?” You swallowed down your throat after asking, as you reopened the subject that made you both fight in the first place.

You can see how his jaw twitched upon the mention of your ex boss, he certainly was not pleased with the topic and testing the waters now seems like a bad idea.

“Sorry you don’t have to—“

“He scammed my sister before you.” He looked at you with a hint of pain in his face.

“We both came here young and had dreams, I was slowly building myself and she thought that volunteer work was a good step. He kept promising her with a job, made her donate even, only to tell her that there is no place for her when the contract was over.” He was trying to hide his anger but to no avail. His nostrils were flaring and he could rip off the leather of the wheel from how tight his grip was.

“She was ambitious just like you, and what he did left her hopeless. Eventually, she didn’t find a job and went back to the UK.” Your heart clutched at the thought of Harry’s sister going through the same thing but with no one to warn her.

“I’m so sorry, I hope she’s doing better now back home.”

“She is, he just didn’t have the right to do so. That fucker… I wish I complied to my urges and left him a bloody mess but back then we didn’t have money for lawsuits.” He let out a big sigh and you felt like an idiot for discussing it with him.

“ Your sister sounds lovely, I’m sorry that happened to her.” You answered softly not knowing what to exactly say.

“Enough of that now shortcake, talk about something else.” It was obvious that he desperately needed a distraction and you felt inclined to provide it.

“We can play Truth or Truth since we can’t do dare in the car.”

“That sounds like a made up game but okay.” You rummaged your head for nice questions that do not cross his boundaries.

“How many tattoos do you have?” He pretended to count them making you roll eyes at him.

“I dunno shortcake, I lost count at 20.” You don’t have any tattoos but you wondered how the hell he was able to handle all this pain.

“My turn, what’s your favorite book ever?” He skipped the song that was playing until he decided on ‘Sesame Syrup’ by Cigarettes After Sex.

“Absolutely not, I’m not answering that.” You shook your head aggressively in disapproval feeling cornered with the question.

“I’m not letting that slide easily but your turn.” He took off his leather jacket, leaving him in a plain white shirt as you glared at him for leaving the steering wheel again.

“How many partners did you have?” Your felt quite bold but regretted it immediately after you saw his smirk.

“Hmm I’d say one for the serious relationship.” He was cheeky with his answer as if you fed his ego by asking. You’re not even sure why you did so, perhaps your curiosity got the best of you.

“My turn. What’s the best place you’ve had sex in?” Your cheeks turned crimson red at his question, as you began picking at your nails. He looked back at you when you took too long to answer and saw how flustered you were.

“Shit did I make you uncomfortable? “ He cursed under his breath as he stared at your flushed face.

“No it’s okay.. I just.. umm “ You swallowed down your throat, and turned away from him as the game was no longer in your favor.

“What is it?” He was confused as to why you suddenly become more flustered than you usually are. You were biting your bottom lip and playing with the hem of your skirt until he finally understood what’s up.

“Are you a virgin shortcake?” His rather correct guess made your face heat up embarrassingly as you allowed your hair to fall and cover your face from him.

“Hey, don’t do that. S’fine you can say whatever you want.” Harry found it cute that you were so red in the face over his question. He couldn’t believe it.

His shortcake was a virgin.

He tried to refrain himself from thinking about unholy things but god he couldn’t. How can he continue to live every day and be around you now that he knows you haven’t been touched.

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m just embarrassed.” You spoke in a low voice with your gaze set at your feet.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s just a stupid social standard, you can wait for as long as you want shortcake.” He tried to comfort you, as he realized how upset you might be feeling.

“It’s not really about waiting; it’s about finding someone. Boys didn’t date me, they went for the popular prettier girls.” Harry almost hit the brake pedal in the middle of the road at your words. The fact that you thought so lowly of yourself because of stupid premature boys made him see red.

“The fuck do you mean by that? Just because some boys are pricks doesn’t mean you’re not worth dating. Fucks sake where’d you get those thoughts from?” He was visibly angry as you held back tears at both your confession and his sweetness.

“I’m not sure..” You couldn’t provide him with an answer when you didn’t even know what was going on in your own love life.

He suddenly turned off the music and reached his hand to caress your burning cheek. “ Hey, look at me.” He ordered softly as he turned your face to him.

“It’s not nice to think like that. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re worth more than sex and there are many people out there who would kill to have you. It was my fault for bringing it up.” His sweet words added to your pent-up frustration as you held back hot tears.

“It’s okay, can we close the subject now?” You’re not sure you can handle any further comforting from him. You feel embarrassed enough as it is for confessing such things.

“Yes of course but remember my words.” He leaned back in his seat and actually set his eyes on the road.

He didn’t know what to feel. The way you underestimate yourself infuriated him, it proves to him yet again that you’re too pure for this world. Never was he so angry just because someone else was not treated properly.

He didn’t want to think whether it’s right or not to feel that way, all he knows is that he’s mad. If only he could talk a little more… but he respects your boundaries and decided to turn on the music again in hopes of cheering you up.

You arrived at the designated building in no time, and you felt a lot better after Harry stopped by an ice cream shop and bought you four scoops of bubblegum ice cream with marshmallow topping. You admired his gesture and you could tell he was trying to make up in his own way.

Even though you were ready mentally and parked right outside of the building, you felt like cooling off a bit and taking a stroll on the sidewalk.

Harry walked out from the car like a movie star with his beloved leather jacket hanging off his shoulder, you fixed your attire and secured your handbag before beginning to walk with Harry by your side.

The building was tall with tainted windows that you could not see through, you can hear Harry lighting up a cigarette behind you to destress as if he’s the one with the interview.

“Harry, I think I’ll just go in. If I wait any longer, I’ll get stressed.” You fixed your hair and stared back at Harry who was leaning against the car.

“Whatever suits you, I’ll wait here.” You gave him a gentle smile and walked away towards the building before you heard him calling your name.

“Yes?” You turned around to face him.

“Read the contract well shortcake.”

Harry has been waiting outside the building for almost an hour now, he thought about going in to check up on you but he didn’t want to embarrass you, for all he knows you could be waiting or doing the interview as he walks in.

He’s had five cigarettes and walked back and forth three times; it could be a sign of anxiety but for fucking what? It’s you who’s doing the interview and worrying about you should be the last thing he’s supposed to do.

In the past month he allowed you to get closer to him, something he despises. But now that he thinks about it, he never remembers being aware of it. He always has his guard on, and the way he let it down naturally scares him.

He’s gotten used to your turkey sandwiches, books around the garage, random hair clips that he finds everywhere, the fallen hydrangea petals from your hair after he braids it, some doodles and heart shaped drawings in his appointment book, and the curious inquiries when he’s fixing cars.

‘ So if you replace this piece with a new one, does it become like those cars in movies.’

’ Can you place a machine inside the car that gives you bubblegum when you press the button’

‘ What happens if you actually replace the oil with pomegranate molasses’

As a mechanic, hearing these questions sent him into a laughter fit, you were something else that he can’t pinpoint, perhaps otherworldly but what he knows is that you are not the type he ever saw himself meeting. He couldn’t possibly believe that someone like you exists.

Maybe he’ll wake up at any second and find himself back home, and that it was all just a fever dream, even his garage, degree and Snow Bun. Instead he hears the sweet voice that he got so accustomed to hearing every morning.

“Harry! I got the job” You walked excitedly to him while being careful to not trip over.

Deep down Harry knew that they would take you, it wasn’t a surprise that you’re talented, not to mention a very fast learner. But to see you so happy with the broadest smile was the real fever dream. He didn’t prepare himself for encountering such a sight nor could he survive it.

“They said that there’s no need to wait a few days, they hired me on spot and you wo—“ You stood in front of him rambling excitedly before he cut you off by pressing his lips against yours and cupping your face with both of his hands.

You melted in the kiss as his soft lips nibbled on yours, your heart was drumming against your chest and it all felt too surreal. You can taste the mix of cherry and cigarettes on his tongue as his mouth lapped at yours and devoured you whole.

Neither of you seemed to want to let go, especially Harry who held on to your waist as he deepened the kiss further making you lean backwards against his arm. Your tongues clashed together and you could feel him smiling.

Harry is not sure he can climb out of the rabbit hole.

A/n: hope you had fun reading!! Please make sure to leave feedback, i’d appreciate it a lot <3

Taglist: @matildasatellite @xxrosebunny @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @novasblogofstuff @gem1712 @miasdelicatepov @jessitpwk @tiaamberxx @peacheskiwi @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tbsloneely @namelesssav @20031990s @prettythingsworld @st-ev-ie @slut4marvelmenn @swiftmendeshoran @missmielyhoran @a-strange-familiar @wandas-lawyer @fullofstyles @cherrycokeslay @blepskies @that-daydream-look @hslt-2809 @ivegotparticulartaste @itslottiehere @harryssideboob @malwtilda @harrysficreblog @hsonlyangelxo @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @kiwilikesmeow @sagggy @epidxte @indierockgirrl @annesauriol @leenameh @scottisantman @grapejuicebluesrry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @nysworld @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @rueluvsharry @lomlhstyles @novalunosising

702 notes · View notes

hopelesslyromanticshark · 1 month

Note

Dear Covey if you would be oh so kind and write a daughter persephone x percy x platonic solangelo. would love for it to be one of the vlog ones of the 4 of them going to the beach and how will and percy r with the two underworld kids

✮⋆˙ let's go to the beach-each, let's go get a wave; platonic! nico di angelo x daughter of persephone! reader blurb (ft. will solace and percy jackson)

content: nico di angelo x daughter of persephone! reader blurb (ft. will solace and percy jackson) warning: language, like majorly, i was cursing like a sailor this time lmao, but other than that silly goofy times author's note: AHHH I LOVE I LIVE I LAUGH. also, i have FINALLY discovered what im gonna make the angst and yall get a hint of what its gonna be on the last comments, bc i cant keep a secret to save my life 🤭🤭🤭

'cause i'm just ken, anywhere else I'd be a ten is it my destiny to live and die a life of blonde fragility? i'm just ken where i see love, she sees a friend what will it take for her to see the man behind the tan and fight for me?

will and you must have been in the driver and passengerseat, as it was the only reasonable explanation as to why 'im just ken' was blaring from the yellow jeep at eight in the morning. nico and percy knew this, as they could see it...and hear it. it was off-pitch and screechy and just bad over all, but will and you didn't seem to mind as you just kept singing. naturally, you had the camera facing you as you dramatically leaned over the center console and basically into your brother's boyfriend's lap as he drove, still singing along despite the camera in your face.

"do not post that, you're gonna burst eardrums around the world if you do!!" nico called over the music and rushing wind from the open windows and you took a break from 'serenading' the car to laugh.

"whatever. your just jelly that i get to be next to will and you dont!" you called back, turning in your seat to make sure you get nico's reaction. which was choking on his own spit before shoving your camera away with threats against your life. all of which you responded to with an eye roll before turning the camera to percy, who was typing away on his phone with a love sick smile.

"is that the mrs. jackson on the horn??" you giggled and percy looked up with a cheeky smile.

"duh. i just need everyone to know that my smart and hot ass girlfriend got accepted in college with, like, a huge scholarship. so she is, in fact, better than all of you," percy rambled into the camera, which you flipped around to you as he was yapping away and pretending to gag.

"you all are in relationships and it's making me sick!" you cried, pretending like you weren't desperate for that kind of love.

"awwww, is someone jelly?" nico teased, which earned him a glare and smack from his sister.

"yeah, how's that college thing going for you, percy?" will asked from the driver seat, glancing in the rearview mirror and winking and nico before returning his eyes to the road like he didn't just break the son of hades.

"not nearly as good," percy replied, completely stone faced, which caused the whole car to erupt in laughter once more. then percy shot forwards, leaning into the space between you and will, his finger pointing out your window.

"beach! look, the ocean!" he cheered, happily, causing everyone (save for will, thank the gods) to look out to their left. a few more twists and turns and will was parking his yellow jeep.

"okay, get out!" he laughed, all four of them scrambling out of the car. the trunk was quickly popped open and unloaded, will taking the bags with the snacks and nico taking the bag with the towels whilst you and percy worked together to get the left over random stuff.

"ahh, speaker!" you cried shooting forwards and grabbing the yellow speaker before chasing after the three boys who left you behind and already picked a spot.

"hey, sun boy, who's speaker is this?" you asked, holding it up before pulling it back into your lap to connect your phone.

"kayla's. i'd say she lent it to me, but that'd be a lie," replied will as he tossed sunscreen to nico with a pointed look, the gloomy boy rolling his eyes but rubbing it into his pale skin.

"hmm. figures, don't wanna have an allergic reaction, huh?" you teased, glancing up at will, who instantly shot a glare at nico, who smirked to himself.

"you said you wouldn't tell anyone!!"

"she's not just anyone!!" nico argued and it made your heart soar, knowing that his own strange way of telling you he loved you.

"yeah...but now all these people know too," you winced, holding your camera up. will locked eyes with the camera before shooting towards it with outstretched hands, which had you jumping from your seat and running to avoid the son of apollo's hands.

"IM BURNING IT, GET BACK HERE!!"

"PERCY, SAVE ME!!" you cried, hiding behind the son of the sea god and his surfboard. percy rolled his eyes at your antics before continuing to walk towards the surf, tugging his shirt off and throwing it to you. you instantly turned your camera to him, not above selling your friends off as thirst traps for views. percy threw up a shaka and winked at the camera.

"that's a married man yall. he is engaged with a girl that will beat yo ass. been simpin, down bad, since he was twelve. you better behave in those comments," you whispered to the camera before you and then camera were send thudding to the sand, will having tackled you in a desperate attempt to get the camera.

"STUPID TEXAS FOOTBALL BOY, GET OFF ME-"

"sooo, y/n has lost the right to camera," nico mused into the camera, post tackle incident.

"i've been robbed by the gays," you grumbled from where you were laying, tanning in some expensive bikini and sunglasses that hades couldn't say 'no' to buying.

"reverse hate crime," will laughed from beside nico, who snorted at the comment. you threw your middle finger into the air before your timer went off, causing you to roll onto your back.

"that's not how you get your camera back, you know," percy commented, shaking the salt water out of his hair and tugging his shirt back on. you flinched as some of the water landed on you, causing you to slap the boys ankle, the only thing in reach.

"go shake like a dog somewhere else, jackson. and you're blocking my sun!" you whined and percy mocked you but moved. nico spun the camera to himself again, rolling his eyes but then will shot forwards and pressed a kiss to his cheek, the skin instantly blooming red. will laughed as he pulled away and nico quickly shut the camera off, not before it caught his empty threats agaisnt will.

"haha, i got the camera back. those fuckers were stupid enough to leave it unattended. don't worry guys, mommy's home, no more bad camera angles," you whispered into the camera, smiling as you glanced around. it was later in the evening, the sun starting to set on the sea, a sure sign that they'd be heading home soon.

"y/n, i swear, if you have that damn camera-" nico called, peeking around a corner. instantly, you were jumping up to your feet and the view from the camera became blurry as you were sprinting.

"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!!" you called back, grinning into the camera once more.

the video ends with you buckled into the passenger seat, arms crossed and a pout on your lips.

"they got me," you muttered towards the camera before the door was shut by percy.

1.2k comments:

@/user.1: you can't just show us percy shirtless and expect us NOT to fall in love 😍😋🤩🤭

@/annabeth.chase: i will find you

@/underworlds.favs: I TRIED TO WARN YALL-

@/user.2: is- is yn being held against her will at the end?? GIRL BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP-

@/underworlds.favs: no, yn has never done anythings against her own will. right, y/n?

@/user.yn: they're good people, they'd never do anything wrong and they'd def never take away my camera and force me into the car, no they'd never do that.

@/user.3: why yn kinda fine in that bikini like what that throat do fr

@/underworld.favs: gross. talk about my sister like that again and you'll suffer a fate worse than death.

user.3 has been blocked by underworld.favs

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #hoo #toa #percy jackson #nico di angelo #will solace

114 notes · View notes

sleep-drink · 1 year

Text

Part 3

AGHHHHHH I had a COMPLETELY different plan for this but I changed it last minute. Sorry this one baked a lil longer, but I really wanted to do a bunch. I’m hoping to kind of update these weekly, but we’ll see. Life is super hectic but I love making these for y’all who want see em. ALSO MIGHT I POINT OUT THE TRAVESTY THAT IS THE FACT THAT I HAVE NOT SEEN SALLY IN ANY ACTOR AU STUFF THUS FAR???

I love her 🌞❤️

DRAMAAA〜🤗

Thank you all for reading again!

Part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/sleep-drink/718128752962535424/way-hyperfixated-on-welcome-home

Part 2:

#welcome home #wally darling #welcome home fanart #welcome home wally #clown illustrations #party coffin #dolly dreamer #welcome home actor au #welcome home sona #wally darling actor au #welcome home puppet show #sally starlet #welcome home oc #welcome home sally #AGGHHH I SPELLED CAESAR WRONG NOOOOOOO

543 notes · View notes

hesbuckcompton-baby · 1 month

Text

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 9

AO3

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

A/N: Sorry this chapter took a while! Please enjoy some filler fluff as a reward for your patience

The January cold was a biting, painful thing, with the uncanny ability to burrow its way deep beneath any clothing, regardless of the layers everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had desperately piled on for protection. Thick, wool socks and scarves were always in order, and a few of the elderly women in the village had begun to make a pretty penny by selling them on to disgruntled pilots who had never before experienced winter outside of California.

Major Kidd had given her Egan's sheepskin jacket. Well, he less gave it to her than he did leave it in the mechanics' hut for her, but she appreciated the gesture nevertheless. The sleeves were too long, but she made do, as it was loose enough on her to fit comfortably over her work overalls. Combined with the wool tights she'd stolen from George, and the fingerless gloves she'd found at the bottom of a drawer somewhere, the weather was almost bearable. Almost.

It had snowed overnight. There was too much ice on the roads to cycle without endangering life and limb, so Frankie had been forced to commandeer a phone and summon Lemmons in one of the jeeps. The man had looked so miserable upon his arrival, that it had been impossible not to laugh. Hat tugged down past his eyebrows, scarf pulled up over his chin, his face was only half visible, and what sliver she could see was contorted in a frown. His gloves were made of bright orange wool, and she suspected the women in the village had run out of the more appealing colours by the time he sought them out. Grinning to herself, she clambered into the jeep, stomping snow off of her boots as she sat down.

"I don't like this country anymore, Frankie," Ken complained, voice muffled by his scarf.

She laughed. "Oh, sweetheart, if you think this is bad..."

He was stricken with a look of complete and utter fear, and Frankie let out a snort. "It gets worse?"

"Probably!"

This information put him in a foul mood for the rest of the drive, muttering and grumbling to himself about 'goddamn snow' and 'goddamn ice' as they pulled up to the runway, tyres gouging fresh marks into the undisturbed blanket of white. They were both left sorely wishing they had finished their work the night before when the weather had been more palatable, but there was no getting around what they had to do now.

The metal of the planes' exteriors was frozen to the touch, bare fingertips left raw and red as they worked away at replacing and tightening various bolts and rivets, breath blooming in frozen clouds in front of their faces. Every five minutes they would have to step away from whatever they were doing and run a few laps around the place just to warm themselves up, aware of what a ridiculous sight they must have made.

"Think they'll go up again tomorrow?" Ken asked, panting as he jogged on the spot behind Frankie, occasionally pausing to throw in a few star jumps.

"Not if the weather doesn't clear up - they'll need better skies than this if the navigators want to get anywhere," She shrugged, pausing halfway through tightening another bolt to jump up and down, attempting to restore feeling to her legs.

"Everyone else is in bed right now," He complained.

"Lucky bastards."

The pair must have appeared entirely absurd, chatting away with stony, irritated expressions as they stomped and jumped around entirely out of synch, and they counted themselves lucky that there wasn't a single other soul out there that morning to bear witness. A lit cigarette hung from between Frankie's lips, the embers only just succeeding in warming her face. Their cheeks and noses had both turned red after only an hour out in the cold, and by the end of their second, neither could justify staying outside any longer.

Kicking the snow off their boots, they shut themselves in the mechanics' hut, the light that hung from the ceiling swaying in the drafty breeze - the result of a ceiling gap that they were unable to locate. Turning on the gas stove that was usually only used to make terrible coffee, the pair pulled up their chairs beside it, holding their frozen hands above the small flame until feeling returned to their fingers.

"I forgot to ask you about your Christmas," Frankie huffed, rubbing her palms together, creating heat from the friction.

"That was nearly a month ago," He pointed out.

"I know. Just felt a bit bad about not asking."

"It was good, yeah. Sammy's folks had a goose, I dunno where they got it from," Lemmons chuckled, pausing for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a glimmer of something in his eye. "How was your Christmas?"

She frowned at him. "I told you before. Good."

"...Mhm."

A sudden knock at the door took them both by surprise, heads snapping towards the unexpected sound. Brows furrowed, they glanced at one another, neither one wanting to get up from their spot beside the stove. "Door's open!" Ken called.

They could hear the sound of someone awkwardly fumbling with the door handle, and Frankie was about to get up when it finally opened. Rosie had to use his foot to pry his way inside, a steaming cup of Red Cross coffee in each hand as he shuffled through, flakes of snow still resting unmelted in his hair. His face was flushed pink, and he wasn't wearing anywhere near enough clothes to protect him from the cold, snow encrusting the soles of his boots.

"Hey!" Frankie beamed, pulling up another chair for him between her and Lemmons. "Jesus, were you trying to get hypothermia?"

"Brought coffee," He said simply, voice still slightly shaky as he sat down, holding the tin mugs out to the mechanics. "And uh-" Reaching into his pocket, Rosie produced a crumpled paper bag containing a couple of doughnuts. "Don't tell Helen. Was only supposed to take one."

"Gee, thanks, Cap," Lemmons nodded gratefully, shooting Frankie a pointed stare that she pretended not to have noticed. She nodded in agreement, both hands wrapped around her cup, feeling the heat seep through the metal. The Red Cross coffee always tasted so much better than the crap they had in the mechanics' hut, and she resisted the urge to grin at the gesture, especially as she realised he had brought nothing for himself.

They drank in silence for a while, the only sound the jagged, laboured breathing of one trying to wear off a chill. "...So, uh..." Rosie began, hands folded in his lap as he looked between the others. "...Work going well?"

"Y'know, I can go somewhere else if you guys want," Ken pointed out, peering at them over the rim of his mug.

"No!" "No!" Frankie and Rosie blurted simultaneously, assuring him hurriedly. "You need to keep warm, Ken," She told him.

He had slurped down his coffee quickly, the winter cold cooling it down so that it wouldn't burn his throat. Shaking his head, he pushed his chair backwards out of the little semi-circle they had created, scraping loudly across the floor. "The fuel cans we asked for arrived yesterday, I should go pick them up before I forget."

"You sure?" Frankie asked, getting up to trail after him as he made his way to the door. "The snow'll probably start melting soon, you should wait until it's not so icy."

"No, no. Now's good," Lemmons nodded determinedly, smirking at her as he opened the door, a gust of cold wind blowing its way inside. "Thanks again for the coffee, Rosie!"

"No problem, Ken," He nodded, tipping an imaginary cap at him as the mechanic disappeared outside.

Frankie paused a moment to process what had happened before letting out a huff of laughter. Rosie was still sat beside the stove, watching with a smile as she crossed the room towards him. She leant down, and he craned his head up to meet her, their lips meeting in a quick kiss, as casual and comfortable as a long-married couple.

"He definitely knows," She pointed out, lowering herself back into her seat and propping her legs up across his lap, his elbows resting gently on them.

"Oh yeah," Rosie nodded in agreement. "Have you properly told anyone yet? Only, I haven't - I was waiting until you wanted to."

"Oh, I've only told George, she won't tell anyone. But I tell her literally everything, so y'know."

"Yeah, yeah, I expected that," He continued nodding, pausing after a moment as a stricken look of realisation crossed his face. "Wait, does that mean you told her about when we-"

"No! No, not about that, Jesus," Frankie giggled, nose creasing as she took another sip of her coffee. A smile spread across Rosie's expression as he took a moment to actually take in her appearance, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the hem of her trousers.

"... Is that Egan's jacket?"

"Mhm," She hummed, wiping her top lip as she put down her mug. "Kidd left it for me. It doesn't fit-" Frankie flapped the ends of her sleeves to illustrate the point, making him chuckle. "-but the thought was nice."

"God, I absolutely humiliated myself the first time I met Egan," Rosie shook his head slightly, his cheeks reddening. "Kept talking about flying in my goddamn skivvies, I was pretty sure he only brought me to meet you so that you two could both laugh at the weird new Captain."

She laughed, taking one of his hands in hers, absent-mindedly twiddling his fingers as she spoke. "I'm sorry, you flew in your what?"

"Jesus, I'm doing it again, this is like a recurring nightmare. It gets real hot in Texas, right, so we practised flying in our underwear to stop us from over-heating - but of course I decided that was the best possible story to introduce myself to the Majors with. I mean, Christ, I still don't know what I was thinkin'."

"Well, the first time I met him I absolutely destroyed him in a drinking contest, so he's been offered his fair share of public humiliation."

"That... does help, actually," He admitted, and she grinned, running a hand through his hair and messing up his curls as she rose to her feet. His gaze followed her, tilting his head upwards, a few loose curls hanging in his face. "Where are you going?"

"Funny thing is, I actually have this thing called a job," Frankie teased, zipping up Egan's jacket as she headed for the door. "I have to, like, do it, and everything."

"Wow, that sounds really hard, I'm so impressed," Rosie replied flatly, a smirk curling his lip.

A gust of wind blew a cloud of snowflakes in through the door as she opened it, flipping her collar up to her chin against the breeze as she stepped outside. Lemmons was waiting there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and his unexpected presence startled her, snow crunching beneath her feet as she jumped, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ken shrugged. "Thought I oughta give you a minute - didn't wanna interrupt anything private."

Frankie's eyes narrowed, glaring at him as they made their way back towards the hardstand. "Oh, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Can you seriously look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong?"

Turning on her heel, she stared at him, their gazes locked for a long, awkward moment of silence. She gnawed at her lip, saying nothing, until suddenly she broke, scoffing as she stomped away. "Fuck you, Ken."

"Told you!"

Before he could move, she had slung an arm around his neck, forcing him into a playful headlock. Lemmons squawked, wrestling against her unrelenting grip until he dug his fingers into her side, and she released him with a yelp, their hair both dusted white with snow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It took three days for the weather to subside - three days of icy roads, relentless snowfall, and trying not to freeze on the hardstand. Every day like clockwork Rosie had brought the mechanics fresh, hot coffee, filling flasks with the stuff to satisfy more and more of the ground crews, who were growing steadily more irritable with each inch of snowfall. The pilots were grounded for the duration, but even the pub seemed too great of a trek under such circumstances. The only sanctuary was the small, cylindrical heaters inside the Nissen huts, and in the evenings many took to sitting around them to keep warm.

Early morning birdsong came as an unwelcome sound as Frankie's eyes peeled open, adjusting to consciousness as sunlight streamed in through the window above her bed. A gust of air hit her face as her bedsheets were ripped off of her, and she flinched as she waited for the sudden chill to grip her. But it didn't.

"George. What the fuck," She grumbled, pressing her palms against her eyelids as she sat up, hair knotted and sticking out at random angles on one side of her head.

"Get up. Snow's thawed, they'll be flying today."

The woman had a disturbing knack for always looking immaculate - golden hair falling in perfect curls, red lipstick that never smudged, and clothes that always fitted perfectly. George always told her that it was just that she put in the effort, but Frankie tended to suspect some sort of witchcraft.

"Well fuck me, in that case, why didn't you wake me up sooner?" She huffed, her hairbrush getting stuck halfway through a knotted patch. For a moment, she couldn't quite bear to deal with it, and just let it hang there, weighing down her scalp on one side.

"Thought you should get some beauty sleep before you see off your darling pilot," She teased, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. "Although admittedly, I wasn't expecting you to wake up looking like you'd been dragged sideways through a thornbush," George added, and Frankie let out a cry as she yanked on the hairbrush, dragging it forcefully through her hair until it fell straight.

"I'll drag you sideways through a bush in a minute," She muttered, rubbing at the sore spot on her scalp with one hand as she pulled on her coveralls with the other.

"I just think it took you long enough to finally snog him, you might as well try not to look like a dying cat whenever you see him."

"Oh, piss off!"

Huge meltwater puddles lined the roads on both sides, the grass reduced to muddy swampland, sodden with what remained of the snowfall. Frankie pedalled slowly, careful not to slip, calling out in greeting to the men who passed by in their jeeps, tyres kicking up water, spraying her legs and staining her trousers.

Her breaks screeched loudly to a halt as she stopped in front of a half-melted snowman on the side of the road, the last remaining evidence of the village children's play. Their laughter had filled the air since the first snowfall, the only remedy to the constant, freezing misery. The snowman's head was close to toppling off, its carrot nose drooping pathetically. She couldn't help but chuckle as one of the pebbles they had used for eyes slipped from its perch, landing with a thumb in the damp grass. She wondered if it had snowed back home, if Alice and Jill had made a snowman of their own. As a child, she'd used her mother's old scarf and gloves, the scent of perfume still lingering on them after so many years.

Another jeep rolled past, cutting it too close and too fast, a spray of puddle water splashing all the way up her back, the cold soaking through to her spine. Frankie let out a yelp, her train of thought lost as she flipped off the driver in his side mirror and began to pedal again, resuming her steady, cautious pace as the airstrip came into view.

The Riveters were gathered around their B-17 when she arrived, packs slung over their shoulders as they readied to board. Letting out a huge yawn, Frankie dismounted her bike, letting it lie on the tarmac as she approached, the uncomfortable stick of damp fabric against skin making her squirm. The moment Pappy saw her, he frowned. "D'you just get up? They've run the checks on our bus already, right?"

"Your plane's been ready to fly for days, Pap - I was out here in the snow making sure of it while you lot were warming your feet by the fire," She rolled her eyes, squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

Rosie was visibly fighting a grin as she approached, Bailey shooting him a confused look at his expression as he passed, clambering into the belly of the plane. One by one, the flight crew filed inside, hauling themselves up through the hatch in a series of grunts, until their Captain was the only one left standing on the tarmac. The moment they were alone, he let his smile show, a red tint flushing his cheeks. "Ma'am," He teased, tilting his cap at her as she approached.

Frankie smirked, stepping forward until their fronts were pressed together. "So... what number is this now?"

"Seventeenth mission," Rosie nodded.

"Hm. Not too shabby."

"Why thank you, dear," He grinned, leaning down to press his lips to hers. Just as Frankie began to reciprocate the kiss, a thought popped into his mind, and he pulled back, eliciting a tut of disappointment from her. "Y'know, I had this idea earlier that I'd bring you flowers, but it's too damn cold for 'em. Thought I'd let you know anyway, so you can appreciate the thought."

She hummed. "Duly noted," Grinning, she resumed the kiss, her teeth accidentally grazing his lip as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. Hands grasping at her back, his brow furrowed at the sudden dampness, but he figured she might send him away if he ruined the kiss again. He could smell the oil on her clothes, but the scent he had once found acrid now only succeeded in reminding him of her. Even miles up in the sky, hanging perilously over enemy territory, there was something calming in that smell, a constant tether to home.

The pair had been so engrossed in their embrace, that they had failed to notice Pappy reappearing through the hatch, sent to retrieve something they had forgotten in the jeep. But the moment his feet hit the tarmac, and he took in the scene before him, he froze, releasing a sort of strangled grunt that alerted them to his presence, springing away from each other, hands raised to wipe any evidence of the other from their mouths.

Wide-eyed in a mixture of shock and horror, he spoke in angry whispers, closing the hatch most of the way to muffle the sound. "Are you kidding me?!"

Rosie held up his hands as if begging for mercy. "Look, Pappy, I was gonna tell you, it's just-"

"I owe George so much money," Pappy huffed, running a hand across his brow.

Frankie frowned. "... You what?"

"We had drinks last week, we were betting on how long it'd take for... this to happen."

She resisted the urge to laugh, noticing how Rosie seemed to be suppressing a smile. "George already knew about this last week."

His expression was horror-stricken, face growing ever-redder with every second that passed. "... Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Rosie let out a chuckle. "I think you just got scammed, Pappy."

Brow furrowed, expression contorted in fury, Pappy muttered to himself in indecipherable fury as he marched over to the jeep, retrieved his forgotten cargo, and stomped back towards the plane, pausing briefly to interrupt his incensed murmuring. "Happy for you two. Or whatever," He sighed, waving a hand in their general direction as he failed to meet their eyes.

As soon as he was safely inside the plane and out of earshot, they collapsed into laughter, his utterly outraged frown seared into their minds. Rosie wheezed as he caught his breath, "I think George is using your friendship for evil," He pointed out, succumbing to laughter again as Frankie let out a cackle.

"I am not letting her collect on that debt," She shook her head, face flushed red, cheeks creased with a smile. Frankie looked up as she felt his hands against her face, palms cupping his cheeks as he brought her face to his, their foreheads simply resting against each other's as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

"I will see you later," He spoke softly, the tip of his nose brushing against hers.

"Yeah, you better," She reached up, straightening his tie. "I'll be really pissed off otherwise."

"And we can't have that."

"Nope."

With one last smile, Rosie pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Frankie scoffed as he pulled away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He smirked to himself as he climbed up into the plane, arms burning with the weight of his body as he hauled himself up through the hatch. Navigating his way through to the cockpit with ease, he slid into the pilot's seat, feeling Pappy's gaze burning into the side of his skull.

"...Yes Pappy?" He asked after a moment of silence, his co-pilot shaking his head side to side, never retracting his penetrating stare.

"I fuckin' knew it."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #ken lemmons #pappy lewis #oc: frankie #oc: george #fic | i'm your man

112 notes · View notes